His Rose

His Rose: 3

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Lack of intelligence is the greatest poverty

Rose

Opening the door slightly as I peek down the hall—trying to see if there's any sign of Elia. After what happened a few hours ago, I don't even know if I can face him. Honestly, I can just act like nothing happened; as if he didn't kissed my cheek.

I don't know what's wrong with me. It was just a kiss on the cheek, right? It's not like we did something out of the line. Nothing wrong about a kiss on the cheek. He was being a gentleman, perhaps. By the look of it, he is already a gentleman. Come on, he kissed my cheek when he could have gone for the lips!

Sighing, I push the door wider as I walk out of the room. My eyes wander down the hall; trying to see if there's anyone especially Elia. Maybe he's asleep, it's three in the morning anyway. I couldn't. Not when I know he's here, in this house.

Quickly making my way down the hall and down the stairs but I immediately stop as soon as I bump into someone. Shit. I curse mentally before moving back slightly and see the familiar brown eyes. My heart somehow stops beating when I realise that he has his arms around my waist—preventing me from falling.

It also took me awhile that I have my hands on his chest.

Elia looks up at me as he frowns his eyebrows in confusion, ''Are you going somewhere?'' He asks. I blink a few times, making sure that this isn't a dream because everything feels real. My mind can't seem to remove the feeling of his arms around my waist—maybe he should move it first so that I can actually talk.

''Uh, I'm hungry.'' I mutter.

He smiles, revealing his dimple, ''Of course you would be. You didn't come down for dinner earlier.'' Then, he looks down at his wrist watch, ''It's three in the morning, Rose.'' He adds.

I nod, ''Maybe that's why I'm hungry,'' Casually patting on his shoulder—more like in a friendly manner. My eyes wander down to see his clothes and see that he's wearing a suit and tie.

Without me realising, I am frowning at him which causes him to look down at his clothing and look back up at me, ''I came back from work.'' He answers my curiosity. ''You don't want an empty stomach, I can make you something to eat.'' I move slightly and he let go of my waist, putting both of his hands in his slacks' pocket.

''I think it's fine. I can just grab some snacks—''

He cuts me off by pulling my hand, making me follow him down the stairs. Honestly, I may say that I don't want him to make me something to eat but I want to. Aren't all girls like that? They say no but they want the other way—I guess I'm no different.

Once we reach the kitchen, he gestures me to sit down on the seat near the kitchen counter. He glances at my direction before standing in front of me—the kitchen counter separating us. I continue to look at him and due to the dim lights, his face seems perfectly structured. He's like goals. For no reason, one look at him and anyone could fall head over heels.

I run my fingers through my long hair; trying to reduce the awkward tension between us. He does nothing but look at me and I find that really distracting. I mean, I don't mind if a hot guy looks at me. Who would mind? But right now, I mind. ''What would you like?'' He suddenly asks.

''Are you sure you can cook?'' I ask back, earning a chuckle from him.

''Very sure.'' He replies with a smile—oh lord, can someone please stab him in the face so that it wouldn't be a distraction whenever he smiles?

Then, he moves towards the other side, taking out a frozen lasagna—and I laugh sarcastically; knowing what he meant by making me something to eat. ''You're such a good cook.'' I say, making him grin. ''Impressed.'' I add at the end.