XXIX.

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The first weird thing that happened with Alexander was when I wanted to get into the car and he refused to move. Amelia was on the other side, so I couldn't go there, and Alexander refused to sit in the middle. I kindly asked him to step out so I can go in and then he can come in again.

He refused my request with a big satisfaction written all over his face. I wanted to slap him.

Instead of doing that, I took a deep breath and prayed to all the stars above to give me the strength to not kill him.

And then I just put both of my hands on his thighs and climbed into the car since I was definitely not taking a chance and climbing in it with my back to him. I saw how that amused expression fell from his face when I stepped in and it caused us to have our faces only a few inches apart.

I felt his breath all over my cheeks and it caused them to flame and coat in redness. I quickly looked down and moved, sitting down next to him.

After that, Alexander didn't move the whole drive to the restaurant. He didn't look at me even once. He sat there with his arms crossed, looking out of the window the whole time, not saying a word.

Amelia happily filled in the silence in the car.

We go to Marcus, a restaurant that's not so far away. When I step a foot inside, I instantly get uncomfortable by all the bliss and elegance. It makes me feel like I don't belong here. I'm not used to luxury things. I lived in bad conditions in France, and seeing all this bliss around me is something very new to him.

I cast a look at Alexander to see how he's dealing with all of this, but like usual, he has a bored look on his face, like he'd rather be somewhere else than here. Probably in Islington, riding that motorcycle with his friends.

Once I look at Alexander, I find myself having a hard time looking away. I never thought he could get any more attractive, but, dear God, if only I could take a picture of him right now ...

I quickly remove my eyes from him when I realise where my thoughts are going again. What is wrong with me? This is the guy who called me names, threatened me, made me feel like pure shit, and I'm here worshipping his looks.

I don't need that in my life. I'm glad he's not someone else, I'm glad Alexander is the way he is. My life is complicated enough as it is. And I'm leaving in a few months anyway. If I fell in love here, that would end up badly.

We sit down at the table that Rosalyn and Alfred made reservations for.

And when I see all that cutlery in front of me, I just want to scream out in panic. What do I do with all this stuff?

The second weird thing Alexander does is right then. He wraps his arm around my shoulders – since he's sitting right next to me (the lucky stars decided not to be on my side today), and leans close to my ear. "The way you're staring down at that cutlery, it looks like you can communicate with it."

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