NOAH
"For the love of God, please, smile. If you keep your face stuck up and moody like that, the Paparazzi will start spinning a different story," I said through gritted teeth.
Ciara rolled her eyes, and gripped my hand so tight that I knew it would have a bruise by the end of the day.
"I am in a shitty mood. I don't feel like smiling. Your paparazzis can go to hell," she responded sharply. I sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose.
This was our third date.
The first and second date had gone surprisingly well, minus the fact that Ciara kept dropping snide remarks whenever no one was within earshot.
The public was eating the story. They shipped us together, and no matter how much we tried to keep our appearances sparse, individual pictures of the both of us kept popping up everywhere.