Chapter 7. That Cliché Moment
"You know why I didn't knock on your door?" I asked, and he shrugged. "Because you're the one I want to knock out."
Dylan chuckled dryly. "Oh, really? With your puny hands and little to no strength, you think you can put a scratch on me? How cute."
"But my puny hands can pick this up, and with my little to no strength, I can step on it," I said, grabbing his laptop with one of my hands.
His eyes widened as a few incoherent curses left his mouth, something about not saving an important draft. "Woman, put that down."
"Yes, I'm about to."
"Argh, fuck." He inhaled a sharp breath and spoke in a much calmer tone, "Hand it to me. It contains data more important than your life." Dylan really liked putting me down, so I was going to do him a favor and put his precious laptop down.
I flashed him a tight-lipped wide smile and was about to whack it on the ground, but I was stopped by a large hand grabbing my wrist.
I glared at
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