Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > A nasty, guilty pleasure.
Pete flipped his hair out of his gorgeous topaz eyes and flashed one of his absolutely beautiful smiles at a thirteen year old girl and her posse. They all giggled and pranced off with an extra bounce in his step.
"Waiiit!" He whined, trotting after them. Shocked, the theenies turned around and gaped at this gorgeous boy asking them to wait. "I want a hug." He bounced up to the oldest- and most hoe-bag looking one, and hugged her. Real shallow, Pete, call me when you get thrown in jail for molestation. The tiny hoeish looking girl was more than willing to hug him back before he dissappeared back into Brney's in his Armani hoodie.
Daisy Scott glared at her faggoty ex boyfriend across from the store. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed her because she knew he would ocme up just to aggervate her. But even though she hated his guts, she had to admit, he looked gorgeous for a man who looked like Rihanna. Siging and going back to browsing through expensive pajama-pants for the lovely and Jewish Levi Rosenfield.
"Daisy?" She heard someone, a "man", ask. Her olive high-set cheeks redened instantly, and it wasn't a blush. She knew exactly who was speaking to her, and Daisy was in no moode to talk to him. "Daisy Isabella Scott."
When a girl doesn't talk to you when you call her name, you don't keep pushing buttons because she's finally going to do what she always dreamed of doing: A) slap you, B) kick you or, if she's really crazy, B) turn you in to the cops for when you hit her that one time after she set the bomb off outside. 'Member that?
Dasiy wasn't that insane, though. She was going to go with option B, but if he kept it up, option A was going to follow shortly. Yanking a pair of expensive five hundred dollar pants off the rack for Levi, she turned around with her chin held high as phsyically possible with out falling over backward. Take that, Peter Puffer. Heh, new nickname for him.
"C'mon, I wanna ask you a question!" Pete whined, knowing better than to grab her wrist and turn her around. Daisy knew people that knew people and if he so much as go near her and put a bruise on her perfect arm, she wouldn't hesitate to have him shot. And hey, who wants to hear "HE TASTES LIKE YOU ONYL SWEETER" every five seconds on the radio? Walking right up to the register and giving the man her credit card, she waited impaitently so she could get the hell out of there.
"Uh, M'am, it says it's been denied." Red-headed-clerk said, looking at Daisy with a smirking expression. Her perfetly chiseled jaw dropped and she stared at the man. "Denied?" She repeated, her cheeks finally turning red in a blush instead of anger. "That's what I just said..." The stupid red-head man said with an irrated look on his face. "That's not possible..."
And then she heard Pete snigger behind her before slapping his own credit card down. "I'll pay for it." He smirked, looking down at Daisy with those gorgeous brown eyes of his.
Still not saying anything, Daisy waited for red-head to ring it up so she could leave and then slap Pete.
Bad move, Wentz.
"Waiiit!" He whined, trotting after them. Shocked, the theenies turned around and gaped at this gorgeous boy asking them to wait. "I want a hug." He bounced up to the oldest- and most hoe-bag looking one, and hugged her. Real shallow, Pete, call me when you get thrown in jail for molestation. The tiny hoeish looking girl was more than willing to hug him back before he dissappeared back into Brney's in his Armani hoodie.
Daisy Scott glared at her faggoty ex boyfriend across from the store. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed her because she knew he would ocme up just to aggervate her. But even though she hated his guts, she had to admit, he looked gorgeous for a man who looked like Rihanna. Siging and going back to browsing through expensive pajama-pants for the lovely and Jewish Levi Rosenfield.
"Daisy?" She heard someone, a "man", ask. Her olive high-set cheeks redened instantly, and it wasn't a blush. She knew exactly who was speaking to her, and Daisy was in no moode to talk to him. "Daisy Isabella Scott."
When a girl doesn't talk to you when you call her name, you don't keep pushing buttons because she's finally going to do what she always dreamed of doing: A) slap you, B) kick you or, if she's really crazy, B) turn you in to the cops for when you hit her that one time after she set the bomb off outside. 'Member that?
Dasiy wasn't that insane, though. She was going to go with option B, but if he kept it up, option A was going to follow shortly. Yanking a pair of expensive five hundred dollar pants off the rack for Levi, she turned around with her chin held high as phsyically possible with out falling over backward. Take that, Peter Puffer. Heh, new nickname for him.
"C'mon, I wanna ask you a question!" Pete whined, knowing better than to grab her wrist and turn her around. Daisy knew people that knew people and if he so much as go near her and put a bruise on her perfect arm, she wouldn't hesitate to have him shot. And hey, who wants to hear "HE TASTES LIKE YOU ONYL SWEETER" every five seconds on the radio? Walking right up to the register and giving the man her credit card, she waited impaitently so she could get the hell out of there.
"Uh, M'am, it says it's been denied." Red-headed-clerk said, looking at Daisy with a smirking expression. Her perfetly chiseled jaw dropped and she stared at the man. "Denied?" She repeated, her cheeks finally turning red in a blush instead of anger. "That's what I just said..." The stupid red-head man said with an irrated look on his face. "That's not possible..."
And then she heard Pete snigger behind her before slapping his own credit card down. "I'll pay for it." He smirked, looking down at Daisy with those gorgeous brown eyes of his.
Still not saying anything, Daisy waited for red-head to ring it up so she could leave and then slap Pete.
Bad move, Wentz.
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