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— 𖤐 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐇𝐀'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 :
I stab the juicy, boneless chicken piece with my fork and twirl the noodles around it, taking a huge bite. I can't help but sigh as the flavors explode in my mouth like a mini party.
I'm literally starving and all because of that 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐳 insufferable Antarctica.
[ impolite ]
Just then, a can of cherry soda and my absolute favorite dark chocolate bar slide toward me as I sit at the dining table, still in my comfy pajamas.
I look up at the man standing there, looking like he just walked off a magazine cover, still shirtless and flaunting his perfectly sculpted body at every opportunity.
Yesterday, after that mind-wrecking, toe-curling, all-consuming kiss, he enveloped me tightly from behind.
The kiss had turned my brain into mush, and I couldn't think anything straight, so I let him rest his head in the crook of my neck and kiss the hollow there. The soothing warmth radiating off him and his fresh, musky scent made me feel all dizzy, moreover I was so exhausted that I felt like I would faint any second, so I just let the sleep lure me away.
Even though I might have kissed him back and slept all wrapped around him, I can't shake off the chill of how coldly he ignores me whenever it suits him.
This morning, when I woke up to find myself still in his arms, my heart fluttered wildly. My face was nestled in the crook of his body, and my limbs were tangled with his in a comforting mess.
A stupidly wide smile spread across my lips at the thought that this time, he hadn't left me alone in bed.
I couldn't help but admire his gorgeous sleeping face, with long lashes resting delicately on his sharp cheekbones, and the way his warm breath tickled my forehead like a playful feather.
But then I'm reminded of his polar Godzilla self, snapping out of my daze, I shoved my palms against his chest unapologetically, jolting him awake. I glared at him before dashing into the bathroom to start my morning routine.
After I freshened up and stepped out of the bathroom, I found him nowhere in the room. With a slight frown, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, and in the dinning room I found a steaming bowl of hot chicken noodles waiting for me on the table. My stomach growled loudly, and without a second thought, I dove in. And that's how I ended up here.
I knew he had cooked it for me, and the thought did sent a flutter through my stomach, but I pushed that feeling aside. This time, I'm determined to make him taste his own medicine.
He slid into the chair across from me, cradling a mug of bitter—just like him—black coffee and took a slow sip, watching me intently like a hawk behind the rim.
I stuffed a mouthful of noodles in, chewing defiantly while glaring at him. I took a huge gulp of cherry soda and slammed the can down on the table, wiping away the excess soda that dribbled down my chin with the back of my hand. He didn't seem to mind my clumsiness, instead, he just stared at me, silently observing every move I made, his intense gaze unwavering.
