I once again saunter from my room after a whole lot of wandering for nothing in in my room. Along the stairway, I notice Damian again with a glass of in his hand.
I drag my rage quickly to the table and wait for him because he is enjoying the liquor than he will enjoy this delicacy. That is why he is taking forever to get to the . "Is this thing even good for your health?" I asked Damian with concern and . Wasn’t it a hangover that made him take that one glass in the morning? Didn’t also promise that he wouldn't touch these bottles again? What happened?
Fortunately for him, he apparently got a call from work after posing the facetious in the morning. He was fortunate that the call saved his ass from incurring my , because I find it so insulting how he could think of such an absurd mind- idea. Sex as payment? Who thinks like that? A sex maniac, perhaps!
I really hope he won't bring it up again. I am beginning my excursion through the city with or without his damn services, and I am in a terrific mood tonight, so I 't want anything to spoil this for me. If that is the price, as early as now, I will let know that I don't need his fucking services.
He promised that he would bring dinner when he got home from work because, well, customary, I couldn't cook, and he actually did bring dinner with him a while ago.
Sincerely, it is embarrassing, but what can I do? Sigh! He only excused himself to a quick shower while I set the table, and now he is just sauntering over with a ? He truly is unbelievable!
"You don't drink?" He implores, staring at me as though my simple "no" response will me the second Holy Mary.
"Why on earth would I take that bitter sh*t?" I curiously ask, and he arches an and puckers up his mouth in response.
"This shit makes you forget some shit. I am not encouraging you to drink, though," he his shoulders as if saying, ‘I am not saying you shouldn’t try, though’.
"Really?" I inquire as I reach for a dish to serve the chicken and chips we are having dinner, but he seizes my hand, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.
"You don't need the plates. We can eat from the box. Unless you are afraid to share a with me."
Huh? Come on now! Why on earth would that make me uncomfortable? It is fantastic, ! At the very least, I won't have any stinking dishes to scrub. His idea is quite . Don't get me wrong; I have never done this, and I obviously can't sit around house and watch him do all the work, including feeding me. It just doesn't feel at all. I will be a burden and one hell of a freaking lazy ass!
"I have no problem at all," I respond, my heart pounding with a small dance at the that I won't have to clean anything.
Beh! I blame my parents for this. Growing up, I never washed even a spoon. So, count these on my parents.
We begin nibbling on the scrumptious dish. This has been my favorite ever since I can . I am not sure why, though, but I feel like my face is getting hot. I also don't understand why my eyes keep darting to his mouth and throat unnecessarily now and then. I am even forgetting to chew my own food in my mouth and watching him chew his.
I clear my voice after swallowing. "You broke your promise," I mumble when he finds me ogling him, just to break the awkwardness. I bet I even matched chewing rhythm after recovering from just staring at him.
What on earth is this man doing to me, huh? Why is my face reddening even just by at him? Why do I act like I have never been this close to a man before? It 't even been over 72 hours since I met him, for goodness sake! That reminds me;
I should probably start looking for somewhere to stay ASAP. I don't understand why isn't asking me anything, like when I am leaving his house, but I find it difficult to relax in his beautiful house as though I belong here. I love it here, but I need my space. I have invaded too much already. What if he brings in his girlfriend? I 't stand to see them in a lovey-dovey mood or bear with their moans while I am nursing a broken heart.
"What promise?" He asks, and I am sure he knows exactly what I am talking about.
Playing dumb, huh? "You promised that the glass you took in the morning was the one today,” I reply, and as if to aggravate me, he gulps down the remaining liquid the glass all at once while closing his eyes briefly to relish the sweet taste.
"Sorry. I just needed this one. But no more."
Can I go sarcastic on him, even for a little bit? How many times will he repeat that ? "You miserably failed on your first promise, and I am sure you will do the on this one too. Additionally, I don't think drinking helps with dealing with . You were simply rendered completely foolish for a couple of fucking hours.
And when this sh*t clears from your system, reality slaps you mercilessly. It helps nothing! Man up, face your problems, and stop hiding behind the bottles of . That has and will never be a solution or a remedy for anything! It is a belief the fools!"