Anything But Perfection

Meant To Be (18)

Chapter Eighteen

"Have you ever stalked somebody?" I asked, watching Christian keenly from where I was sitting on the counter. My hands were spread outwards on the table as I watched him cook. I had never seen a man cook in real life and it sure was interesting. Jeremy was bad at cooking. I had tried to teach him at first but he was a lost cause. He couldn't even boil an egg. Christian's movements were graceful, his concentration never wavering as we played truth and dare.

"Yep, there was this one girl in college," he replied as he shoved the tray into the oven. I had asked him again and again if he needed help with cooking, but to my great relief he had refused. If there was one thing I didn't like doing, it was cooking. Which came as a surprise to my friends because I looked like the kind of woman who liked cooking. I didn't.

"Oh, really what was she like?" I asked as he finally sat down opposite to me, giving me the attention I wanted.

"Hot."

"That's not enough. Give me details," I persuaded him, annoyed at his one word answer.

"About how hot she was?"

"No,  about how you stalked her."

"Well, I got hold of her home number, mobile number, Facebook and stuff. But I didn't send her creepy stalker messages though," he told me, seeming bored from all my questions.

"Then where was the fun in it?"

"It wasn't fun," he replied. How boring.

"Okay, forget it. My turn," I said, starting to feel a bit bored myself. When we'd started playing, it had been more interesting because he seemed excited and I was more than eager but the fun had died and there wasn't much to say.

"Have you ever flirted with somebody to get a favor done from them?" he asked.

"Uhh, I don't remember really. Maybe back in junior year of high school. Yeah, I think I did," I replied, feeling a little red thinking about how rude it must be to use someone like that. But the poor guy wasn't in love with me or anything so all was good.

"Would you date a taller girl?" I asked, a smirk playing on my lips. I tapped my fingers on the counter, watching my purple nails. Christian was pouring himself a drink as he answered.

"I don't think so," he replied, grinning in that boyish way of his.

"Huh." I took the glass of wine he offered me and took a sip. I was feeling quite nice actually; it felt normal to just talk and have fun rather than sitting around in the hotel room alone. At first I'd welcomed the loneliness because it gave me time to think but it started to bother me after three weeks of it.

"How would you kill your enemy? If you have one," I asked Christian as he drank his wine. He was smiling, those grey eyes of his meeting mine every now and then and I was for the first time in three weeks feeling comfortable with him.

"Chainsaw," was his reply.

Talk about killing.

"That's cruel," I said faking a gasp. He chuckled at my response.

"Killing is cruel, babe." I tried to act as if he just hadn't called me babe which actually sounded kind of cute. In other circumstances I would have objected but I was feeling too content for it. I made a face at him for good measure, not sure whether I made it for his answer or not.

"Okay. What is the best way of proposing a woman?" Christian asked, ignoring the fact that he'd called me babe too. I immediately sat up, my eyes shinning.