Her, Saving Grace

42

Damon

Now that I'm trying to pursue Catherine.

Also known as risking her fate and losing my credibility to follow simple instructions such as distracting a woman, I need to start on the pursuing part.

It's been quite some time since I last tried impressing someone and it usually didn't take much effort.

I guess cooking after the big wham was something most women found charming about a guy.

I mean hey, here have some scrambled eggs.

The problem now is, the same pattern I followed when it came to the women I've been with in the past, which surprisingly isn't a lot, wouldn't and (absolutely) couldn't apply to Catherine.

For one, cooking for her without clothes on (that's how it goes and it works every time) is a big no-no.

I want her to like me.

Not get her killed by giving her a heart attack.

Also, I do cook for her. Almost every day. So unless I cook something fancier than usual, she wouldn't notice even if I put extra meatballs on her spaghetti.

There's also the fact that she doesn't dig the bad boy image I put up on day one. It didn't exactly ward her off. But it didn't get her to show obvious signs of attraction either. Aside from the occasional glances she throws my way whenever I walk around shirtless. But I'm guessing that's normal. If I saw her shirtless, I would have taken a picture.

Come to think of it, I did see her shirtless. With a nice pair of underwear as a bonus.

She's that one woman that makes me stay up at night. Imagine my struggle when she stayed in my room. I will never admit this to anyone, but I would sometimes wake up and just...look at her.

Before she starts moving around and ends up on my bed. Not that I'm complaining.

She gets me thinking on what she thought of me.

I don't even know on what she thinks about the new car.

Okay so it's not exactly new.

But it was as good as one. The only complaint I heard from her was that the air freshener I got smelled bad and I should just put a used shirt inside my car at all times.

I'm not sure on how I should take her observation about how I smell better than the apple-scented can I got.

When we got back to the apartment the night I got kicked in the baby bank, she changed in her pajamas and we sat down and talked about work. She still wouldn't tell me where exactly it is that she went to with Robert. By the way she spoke; I could tell that she was hiding something from me. She looked at me like she wanted to say something but changed her mind before even speaking.

We spend quiet evenings most of the time, just sharing this comfortable silence while watching women slap each other on national television during dinner.

I guess when you actually just sat it out for a minute and think about it, really think about it. This was how most of us would want our day to end.

Me just sitting on the couch with someone who could withstand my singing and (her words) snake-like trait of leaving clothes on the living room.

I'm working on it.

Maybe I should take voice lessons.

Unfortunately, making popcorn for her wasn't going to get me anywhere. Especially with Robert giving her flowers almost every day and texting her good morning while I couldn't even text her unless I was asking where she put the keys to the apartment.