No thanks

There's this guy who works in the finance-lending office near my apartment building, and I was buying some stuff in the convenience store next door.

"Hi," he says.

I look behind me to make sure I'm the one he's talking to. No one else is there. "Hey," I say out of politeness.

"You're really cute."

This immediately makes me uncomfortable. I choke out a hesitant thanks.

"Do you wanna go out?"

"No, I'm busy, and I don't know you."

"I'm K**."

"Right."

"I have a car outside."

I look outside and see his Toyota Avanza. I roll my eyes in my head and force out a smile.

"Do you go out often?"

Please go away already and let me buy my fucking chips.

"Sometimes."

"Where?"

"Anywhere nice."

"Do you go to IT Park?"

Do I look like I live an Amish existence?

"Of course."

"Have you been to Figola?"

"A couple of times, yes."

"Well, I'm one of the owners."

I guess that was supposed to be impressive.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Can I have your number?"

This about does it for me. I couldn't hide the irritation from my face anymore. He stops, startled by the acidic reaction that resulted from his question, but he brings back that smug look on his face. "Can I have your number? We can hang out sometime."

Please fuck off and annoy someone else. I roll my eyes, this time for real. "No thanks."

I run out the store, annoyed that I didn't even get to buy my chips. I guess in this day and age, if a guy has a car, owns a club, and has fortunate looks, every girl is entitled to go out with him. But fuck you, jock, who think you can get every girl you think is "cute" because you have abs under your shirt. Fuck you, business owner, who think you can take out any girl in your newly washed SUV because you have ten digits in your back account. Not every girl wants you.

 I definitely don't want you.