Chapter Twenty Seven
906 Words
Surely he had to be joking, right? But the way he stared at me made it difficult to think in that direction.
It didn't help that my internals kept me in a confused state with how much bolt of electricity passed through me at the moment.
The intensity of his gaze struck me like lightning, leaving my heart to drift close to explosion, not sure why that was so.
He took two strides towards me, closing the gap between us, and still not breaking the gaze.
That familiar scent of his cologne sent my knees on a slight wobbly train. The heat of his presence overtook me, not helping my poor state at the moment.
His hand moved to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear before leaning closer, brushing his lips against my ear just so he could whisper, “will you make me get married before Katie?”
“Uh—” it didn't make sense why I was so lost of words, but that just had to be me at the moment.
He pulled apart, leaving my ear to stay far too aware of the fact it'd made contact with his lips.
His lips curved upwards a little, “it's just a joke, I don't expect you to think I'll want us to get married,”
“Uh…” of course it was a joke.
Jeez Kim, what the heck is wrong with you? It's just a joke.
He just headed towards the door, disappearing into the house once he'd opened the door, while I stood there, conflicted by my own thoughts.
What was that about?
My heart still went on a marathon, but I was able to compose my movements, enabling me to take steps towards the house.
Once inside, I closed the door behind me, taking off my coat which I replaced on the rack before strolling in.
He wasn't in the parlor, not that I'd expected him to be hospitable, but it was still annoying to think he left me here, so I just invited myself to sit on the sofa, dropping my purse which I'd hung over my shoulders when I'd gotten out of the car, beside me.
“Don't tell me you want to play basketball in that,” he appeared from where I had no idea of, eying my dressing.
“What do you mean?” Furrowing my brows in discomfort, I also stared down at my clothes.
Surely one could play in a dark blue knee length gown, right?
But his expression said otherwise, as he just heaved a sigh. “It's not your fault but mine.”
“What does that mean?” I pulled my brows in askance.
“I should've know you won't use your senses to think about what dress makes sense for such occasion and what doesn't, and should've been more specific.”
I felt my jaw drop at his words and the truth it held.
How could he say it so straightforwardly? “What the heck,”
He didn't look like there was an ounce of care, as he just sauntered towards the small table beside the window, picking his phone from it and looked to be dialing a number.
“Hey mister,” I jumped to my feet, stomping angrily at him.
But was halted when he stretched a finger, indicating I didn't say a word while whoever he was calling answered.
“Hello Mirabelle,” placing the phone close to his ear, he disappeared into a door, leaving me to stand stunned.
Did he seriously just indirectly tell me to shut up? And I heeded, shutting up.
What the heck.
This guy really was the definition of an asshole. How dare he do such?
Would I seriously be able to work with such— such frustrating asshole who has no respect whatsoever for anyone that isn't himself.
I could feel steams pouring out of my ears, hating how I couldn't leave even if I wanted to.
Because then, my novel would be the one to suffer the consequences of that action.
If I didn't want to end up with nothing to show for on the thirteenth of next month, then I had to bare with this dude that was willing to teach me about the sport.
But then, what on earth was wrong with my dressing.
He was certainly going to be overreacting. Wasn't basketball all about throwing balls and all, what was so hard about that, that I couldn't do while in a gown.
I huffed, not sure what his deal was with me exactly.
But then, the door opened and he strutted in dressed in a sleek, white basketball jersey with a bold, red number fifteen emblazoned on the back.
The jersey was sleeveless, showcasing his huge biceps, only popping out the athletic build.
His matching white basketball shorts had a thin, red stripe which ran down the sides, that also seemed loose fitting.
On his feet, he had a pair of shiny, black basketball shoes with bright red laces and trim. The shoes had a sturdy sole and a high ankle collar. He also had a pair of white athletic socks with a thin, red band at the top.
All in all, he looked extremely handsome and ready for a match.
Was this how all basketball players looked? Or was it just him?
Or perhaps, could it be me seeing it like that?
- Writer
