Nell: 1

Ass-face: 0

God, I love winning.

That is, until the dickhead opens his mouth again. “Oh, Miss Prescott, I forgot to tell you, I love your taste in underwear.” The wine I’d just sipped suddenly goes flying across the table, right onto Nick’s shirt.

“Oh, shit!” I shout, garnering unwanted attention from the people around us as I leaned across the table and dab at the offending stain with my napkin. “I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

Nick clears his throat awkwardly. “He’s seen your underwear?”

“She looks fucking phenomenal in lace,” the bastard says. “And that thong…” he trails off with a moan, closing his eyes as he lifts his wine glass to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I feel like I’m missing something pretty serious here,” Nick mutters.

“Those damned uniform skirts,” I smile manically, still rubbing at the stain that seems to be growing larger. “Can’t bend over an inch without them showing everything.” I sit back in my chair and shoot Gavin a look that explains, in great detail, the way I’m planning to murder him. “Obviously, Mr. Saint lacks all gentlemanly decorum since he brought it up.”

Nick pushes his chair back and stands. I have a sudden wave of panic that he’s bailing on our date, leaving with his feelings hurt and me alone with Gavin. “Excuse me for just a minute,” he smiles politely. “I’m just going to go put some water on…this,” he waves at the front of his ruined shirt.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sure!” I answer, relieved he’s not bailing on me, although I know I’d deserve it. Once he’s gone, I turn to Gavin. “You’re Satan, you know that?” I hiss. “Fucking Satan!”

“I’d say I just made your date more interesting, Miss Prescott.”

Current score…

Nell: 1

Prince of Darkness: 1

The fucker.