When We Met

six

|Martin|

Miss Grey Eyes opens the door to her apartment and lets me in. Honestly, I never even assumed that she'd agree to my deal.

But, she did. And now I'm gonna have coffee with her. Nice, right?

"Sit there and don't touch anything." She commands, heading off into a room I assume to be her kitchen.

I frown at her words. Seriously?

"Do I look like a toddler to you?" I ask, following her inside the kitchen.

"Yes, you do."

"Smooth."

"I know, right? By the way, mister? Why are you following me again?" Her grey eyes narrow on mine and I smirk.

"You're pulling me." I state, shrugging my shoulders.

"I am what?" She puts her hands firmly on her curvy waist and I try to not gape at it with an open mouth.

"You're pulling me, just like a moth drawn to a flame." I sing in my crappy voice and she sticks her fingers inside her ears.

"Shut the fuck up! You ruined a Shawn Mendes moment for me. Damn you!"

"Oh you lured me in, I couldn't sense the pain!" I continue to sing like a crow.

"Seriously, boy. If you don't shut up–"

"Your bitter heart heart cold to the touch!"

"Oh God, what the–"

"Now I'm gonna reap what I sow! I'm left seeing red on my own!"

"Okay. Get out of my house."

"This is not a house. It's an apartment, you doofus."

"You didn't call me a doofus."

"Get your ears in check. I just did."

"Argh! Remind me again, why did I decide to bring you in here?"

"Um, that is a trick question."

Her eyes fix on mine and I almost delve into them. Her hair is up in a ponytail and some strands have managed to spring out to frame her face. Honestly, she looks quite different when she's not wearing a sexy dress or diving into ten glasses​ of alcohol. And in a good way.

"What is your name, again?" I ask her, wondering if she thinks I'm a buffoon.

"Why do you want to know my name?"

Jesus Christ!

"I don't know. Maybe stalk you up on Facebook or Instagram and then send my kidnappers to hide you in the woods." I scowl.

Seriously, man? Who can be so thick?

"Wise words, goof." She presses some buttons on her coffee maker and then slides over the kitchen counter.

I lean against the door frame and cross my arms in front of my chest. The first thing that I notice about her is her habit of chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her lips form a pout and she looks... Adorable?

A small smile plays on my lips and I do nothing to hide it. Eventually, she catches my stare.

"Why are you smiling like that?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Should I have a reason to smile?"

"I think so..."

"Well, you're wrong. It often happens that you never get to know that you're smiling. It's just the way your emotions become visible without your consent. That's it."