The Runaway Cheat

Chapter 13

Marilyn Harrison (six years ago)

I think I am nesting a whole family of butterflies in my stomach, especially because of a guy who I claimed to hate.

After Cara served us our food, we talked a bit while eating even though I did most of the talking while he listened. He is probably the very first person to listen to all my blubbering with so much attention. Even my parents, who love me enough to buy me a literal star, never paid any attention to my non-stop talking.

I am always the gullible person who speaks the most weird shit. And almost every time people tune me out after hearing two or three sentences. But Ridge didn't.

Who is this man, again?

When we were done with it, Ridge suggested going for a walk on the beach. The beach was empty except for one or two people and with every hour the surrounding was getting quieter, the parties were slowly dissolving.

But this absurd curiosity in me to go with him is at it's peak. What if he is a serial killer who has this unique skills to make women hate him first and then show how incredibly good he is? Like a walking Greek fucking god.
Focus Mara.

This is not a good idea, I don't even know him except his name and that he is from London. That's more than enough right? Right.

"Sure" I grinned.

“You are really quiet, aren't you?” I asked him, looking up at him while walking beside him. He was so tall, and his cheekbones were sharp, his lips are full, and with a perfect nose. God, this man is the definition of exquisiteness. I look a little down at his broad shoulder, and his arms were—

“You are doing that staring thing again.” He said before I could complete my thoughts, “And clean your mouth your drooling.”

Unconsciously I touched my lips, and my eyes went wide as I facepalm in my mind. “I am not doing anything,” I said immediately.

“You are. You are looking at me like you want to devour me. And guess what?” He asked, bending a little to come to a same level “I volunteer as tribune.” He gave me a full-blown smile, his eyes were closed and two tiny dimples were out on each side. And my mind as if paused at the scene, he was indeed beautiful. Noticing my stare, his smile fades and his eyes turn into dark features filling with something else, lust. “Stop looking at me like that Mara, if you have no intention of getting fucked on this open beach.” He growled at me.

I came back from whatever fantasy I went into, trying to not react to what he just said. “I'd rather stare at a blobfish than hurt my eyes looking at you,” I said, ignoring his last comment and walking faster leaving him behind.

“Is it now? Come here and say it again.” He called to me and without turning I knew that he was smiling.

After a minute or two he caught up with me and when I looked up at his face there was a small smile, “you are cute when you smile, you should smile often,” I speak out even before I could stop myself. My mouth does have it's own brain. But I am not wrong either, his face does look much more staring-friendly now that he is not frowning.

“Don't call me cute,” he said, turning his face into a void of emotions. What's up with man and hating to be called cute? Just take the compliment, dude.

“Okay, you are a fruit,” I said, blurring out the first word that came to mind.
Women, stop talking.

“That doesn't even make any sense.” He said frowning. Of Course, half of the shit I speak doesn't make sense.