The No-Kiss Agreement

Chapter 25

A/N: The video above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on YouTube.

Mean's POV

Every time, every single time that he flashes his smile at me, my heart spins around in my chest making me feel dizzy in the most pleasurable way.

There has got to be a way for me to control my emotions. He mustn't know. He must never know.

"Mean ... "

"Huh?"

"You're spacing out again."

"Oh yeah ... the shipping and handling fees can be lowered so that our clients won't complain too much," I said quickly, averting my face so that he wouldn't notice how intently I had been staring at him.

For a very long time now I have been hiding my growing feelings for Plan. I really didn't mean to. We have been in constant interaction with each other  because we are business partners in our newly opened shipping company. We shipped goods and any other items that needed to be sent to private individuals and private businesses. Even if our company was fairly new, we were starting to get good reviews because of our efficient service and on time deliveries. Our ratings were almost always five stars.

"I will take care of the announcement," he was saying now. "I will have it added to our new advertisements."

"Cool," I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant.

"I am hoping that our clientele will grow and that our current customers will increase their requests for our service," he said.

"I hope for the same." I echoed his wish.

I glanced at my watch.

"It's almost seven," I said. "We have done enough overtime. Let's go get dinner at the cozy little diner round the block. My treat."

"I'm tired of commercial food, I miss having homemade dinners," he remarked, standing up from behind his desk.

"I'll cook dinner then," I offered quickly.

"You will?" he raised his eyebrows at me.

I couldn't blame him for feeling surprised. I had never offered to cook dinner for him at my place. This was a first, and I was actually suddenly feeling nervous about it.

"I think you're regretting that you spoke too soon," Plan said with a smirk. He must have noticed the sudden look of doubt on my face.

"No, not at all," I denied. "It's just I'm anxious that my culinary skills might not meet your expectations." And that was the truth.

"If you're that worried, I will be with you every step of the way, guiding you on how I want the meal to turn out," he said firmly.

"Great!" I exclaimed. "Let's go!"

I texted him my address so that he could place the directions on his GPS.

Then we both went to our respective cars in the basement parking lot of our business building.

I kept glancing at my rear view mirror to make sure that he was following right behind me.

At times I would lose him when some motorist would cut into his lane but after some time I would see his car again following me.

I turned into the open driveway of my modest bungalow and I saw him drive his car into my driveway and park right behind me.

We stepped out of our individual cars at almost the exact same time.

"Nice house," he remarked looking admiringly at my two bedroom bungalow.

"Who tends to your garden?" he asked, surveying my small front garden with a row of lilies of the Nile lining my picket fence, their blue violet blooms moving slightly in the soft evening breeze.

"I have a gardener who tends to my yard once a week," I replied.

"What's his name?" he asked.

"Oh c'mon," I chuckled. "Do you really need to know?"

"Yes, I do," he replied with all seriousness.

"That's crazy but okay," I relented. "His name is Pond."

"What's his last name?" he asked.

"Seriously?" I was starting to get weirded out by his silly questions.

"Do I look like I'm just kidding?" he asked.

"Naravit," I replied to satisfy his curiosity.

"What day of the week does he come to do his garden work for you?"

The questions just kept coming and I was starting to feel like my privacy was being invaded.

"We've been standing out here long enough," I said. "Let's go inside the house."

"Not until you answer my last question," he said stubbornly.

"You promise that that would be your last question for the night about my gardener?" I asked.

"I promise," he replied.

"He comes here every Sunday," I replied already walking up to my front door to unlock it.

"On your day off," he said, his face looking thoughtful.