In Love With The Enemy: A Love and Hate Story Book #1

42. Their stay (Part 2)

Tristan Pov:

I was about to turn my laptop off and get some well-needed rest, but I decided to go to get a cup of water first.

Just a few meters away from the kitchen, I heard the clanking sound of a utensil, followed by a curse from an oddly familiar voice.

The kitchen was pitch black dark, hardly visible to the human eye in the dark. My brows furrowed in confusion.

I already knew exactly who was in the kitchen because of the fact we were the only ones in here, and the voice belonged solely to her.

Walking into the kitchen, I turned on the light and caught her with a spoon in her hand, a tub of cookies & cream ice cream on the counter open, and her eyes wide in startlement while her hand held her chest.

"You scared me." Alina said with erratic breaths.

I walked up closer towards her. "What are you doing here...in the dark?" I asked her, curiously as I came closer.

Uh...I got h-hungry so I...c-came in here to eat so-something." She replied in almost a whisper.

"Oh really? Why in the dark though?" I couldn't help but smirk when I noticed how affected she was.

"Be-because I....I don't know." She replied. Filling the gap between us, I looked into her hazel eyes as she looked into mine.

We stayed like that until I finally moved aside and grabbed me a bottle of cold water.

She looked down as I passed by her without a single word. "You came in here for w-water?" Alina asked and I nodded.

"Yup. Are you hungry?" I asked and she shook her head in a no.

All of a sudden, I could hear a small pitched noise which seemed like a rumble if I was correct.

My brow raised up in amusement. "Your stomach says otherwise."

Sitting the water bottle down, I put the cap back on the ice cream and put it up.

"Hey, I wasn't done with that!" She grumbled with a frown etched on her angelic face.

I smiled whole-heartedly at her childishness. "Wouldn't you rather eat real food instead of junk?" I asked.

She paused and contemplated whether she did or not and finally responded with a "No", which she didn't seem to be sure of.

"Right." I scoffed, not believing her.

I washed my hands in the sink with soap and dried them before going to the huge wooden cabinet.

Taking out a box of macaroni and a pack of chicken, I set it on the counter and pulled out the other ingredients.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Alina asked me.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking...for you." I told her, pausing at the end as I thought if I should add the last two words and I decided to do so.

Author's Pov:

As Tristan continued to pull out the needed ingredients and measuring cups, Alina stood there dumbstruck.

She didn't understand what he meant by cooking for her. Not once has she ever seen him cook. There was always a maid around and always a chef.

"Do you even know how to cook?" She couldn't help but asking.

Tristan shrugged. He never once cooked in his entire 26 years of living, but here he was.

"There's always a first for everything. Is that so shocking that I am cooking?" He asked her, clearly amused.