You're my goal

Chapter 9

*Q's POV*

"I just feel terrible about it." Her eyes were fixed on her hands that she was rubbing together with much force.

I sat on one end of the love seat, her on the other, as we faced each other.

"You shouldn't. Look, I once broke up with a girl just because she wanted me to go get her icecream in the middle of the night."

Which was completely true.

Her eyes lit up as she simultaneously giggled. "Oh, oh I remember that! You said that in the episode where you were Hibachi chefs."

"I can't believe you remembered that. Great memory." I wink at her.

She blushes, quickly averting my gaze. I can't help but admire her pale blue eyes that really stand out in this dim room.

"I miss that. You guys never do those little talks in between challenges anymore."

I take a moment to think to myself, "I guess you're right. But this way you get to see us do more challenges!"

"That's true but I just miss hearing all those facts about you guys."

"Which ones interested you most exactly? I mean, just which ones did you like the best. And it doesn't have to be the person in general- or if you want to take it that way it could be the person! You don't have to say unless you want to!"

Wow, I can't stop tripping over my own words and I'm only digging myself a deeper hole with each sentence.

She shakes her head before meeting my eyes once again with her charming smile. "It's kind of fun, listening to you struggle."

"Wow thanks." I roll my eyes, faking hurt.

"But it's cute when you do it." She says in a near whisper. Did she expect me to hear that? Did she want me to? "To answer your question," Her voice audible once more. "It was you."

Me?

"Me?"

"Yes, you." She fumbles around more with her hands, still avoiding my gaze.

"Well this must be interesting for you then." I start to feel confidence in my words again.

"What is?" She looks up at me curiously.

"Here I am! Your favorite joker."

"Who said you're my favorite?" She smirks, challenging my gaze.

This time I'm the one to break first. I was thrown a little off by her remark. I'm not her favorite? Didn't she tell me I was before? Why do I feel so offended?

"I'm not?"

She breathes out a sort of laugh, breaking the straight face she was maintaining.

"Yes, you're my favorite. Im just messing with you."

"You had me genuinely scared, Miss."

"Then I am genuinely sorry, sir."

We sit in a comfortable silence.

"You're feeling better? Really?"

She exhales a deep sigh. Oh god I hope I'm not prying.
"Sorry to do this to you. I ask to come here and talk about it, then I'm actually dreading addressing the topic."

I don't say a word as she appears to be contemplating her next sentence.

She pulls her head up, to my surprise, and makes direct eye contact. It doesn't stutter, it doesn't falter, and I find myself consumed by her lingering stare. As captivating as it, it doesn't distract me from noticing the arising tears in the corners of her eyes; I can even see the stricken pain in her pupils.