Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: I originally was on a fic-writing spree and wanted to work on Her instead of this chapter, but I knew that if I did that I would ditch this story. I have a lot of ditched material and I tried my best to finish this first. In the end, I ditched it anyways. As such, the chapter is actually split into two writing sessions. I hope the quality is up to par with the previous chapters; I had no idea what to put here at all. Much apologies for a terrible description of the house; it was somewhat rushed.
Anyways, here it is. Enjoy.
She had never been an untrusting person for the most part, but lately her circumstances had caused her to be rather suspicious of people. Hayner had left without so much as a word to the war and she assumed he was never coming back; Pence had his own things to do and while they still communicated as friends she felt no relation to him anymore. There were hardly any other people she had grown to trust over the years as close friends and she had decided some time ago that she was never going to make any more friends like them. Now she felt it was necessary to make adjustments to that vow.
She never was going to have friends like Hayner and Pence again. They were their own sort of person and they were a part of her childhood. Close friends were possible again, she realized, as she grew older. Seifer was a fascinating example of it.
The man had caught her eye some time ago but she had never developed her interest; there had been no conscious need for it. As he had grown to be more persistent (which was something that puzzled her: why would someone continue to be nice to her after she had been so offensive and distant?) she learned that he was not as arrogant as he had originally seemed. While Seifer was thoroughly confident in his abilities and his standing in the world, it was not the center of his life; he had a heart for others and he was showing it to her. The thought of it touched her in some strange way.
He was showing that tender side to her now as he was leading her from her apartment. She had taken several minutes to collect a change of clothes for the morning, some hygienic belongings, her artistic papers, and her phone – and he had waited without complaint the entire time. He had even insisted on carrying the bag into which she had hastily stuffed everything; and no matter how she protested, it was a lost cause for he had already decided. She had felt compelled to slap at him again but was reminded, when he had begun to usher her out the door, that he was doing her a great favor. She owed him the respect to be, at the very least, polite.
Once they had settled in the car and he had turned the ignition key, he turned to her and stared at her levelly.
"Are you sure you want to come over?" She regarded him curiously.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I know you don't want to be alone, but is this something you might regret? I know you're not really comfortable around me so I can understand if you might want me to take you somewhere else."
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she confessed and she averted her eyes. She did not want to make it sound as if she had no other choice but to go with him, but had nothing else to say; fortunately, he seemed to understand.
"Alright. If you want to go home at any time, though, you let me know, alright?"
She agreed. Her elbow found a level area on the door to lean on and she rested her chin against her hand. As much as she had little attraction for expensive things, such as the Porsche, it was extremely comfortable and it rode smoothly. Her tired eyes took in the scenery and she recognized some of the streets they passed, and others were new faces to her that winked their streetlamp eyes as her. Gradually she felt into a light sleep and was barely aware the vehicle had stopped.
"We're here," she heard him announce indifferently. Whether he was home or not could not have mattered much to him. He came here every day. She was expecting something extravagant.
For the first time, when she opened her eyes, she was rewarded with assuming correctly. It was by no means a mansion, but it was large enough to easily be considered an upper-class house. It looked almost mystical in the moonlight.
She opened the door for herself this time, adamant that she not play the role of a damsel in distress entirely, and stepped out cautiously onto the sidewalk. A simple and dainty garden lined the pathway to the entrance door and once she grabbed her tote bag, she strolled up to the house slowly so she could admire the lawn.
Astilbe flowers lined the edge of the house. To her left there was a small pond encircled by rocks. The outer, western limits of the lawn were guarded with bushes that she thought, with her limited vision, were covered in roses. To her right she noticed something that she found breathtaking: surrounded in a multitude of violet pansies was a wooden white gazebo that was shrouded in a mass of moonflowers; the rays of the swelling moon hit the flowers in a way that they seemed to glow a faint, almost fluorescent white and blue. While she was not one to dwell on the matters of couples as of late, she found the idea of sitting there with her potential, future beloved a rather entertaining idea. The sight looked romantic.
"Like what you see?"
She jumped and realized she had stopped in the middle of the walkway. Abashed, she moved aside so he could make his way to the door. She followed him, stepping onto the smoothed and wooden porch. She noticed a swinging bench to her left which, once she had caught sight of it, seemed to balance out the beauty of the gazebo. The door was a white wall with a heart of oval glass. The house did not have to be big to be a mansion, she decided. It was a drastic change from her apartment for sure, beautiful with simple but refined touches.
Inside, the house displayed polished marble floors that reminded her of a chess board; black and white squares matched dull beige furniture that was rather mundane in comparison to the rest of the house. Glass lamps dimly lit the room and a lethargic Siamese, perched on the back of a loveseat, gazed at her indifferently. To her surprise, there was no fireplace despite the spacious living room; it would have completed the picture. Farther back, past the chairs, she could see into the kitchen. It appeared quite small and it seemed it held enough room for one wall of counter and sink, one corner for a stove, and the rest of the room for a round table that would seat three people.
Once inside, she felt increasingly awkward and stood motionless as she watched her host lock the door and disappear into the kitchen. The feline blinked once at her from its lethargic posture, awakened by a sudden spill of light from the other room, and then it uttered a yawn. This late in the night, the cat had no intention of greeting any guests and even dared to look indignant about an intruder in its house. The creature was the complete opposite of its owner, who emerged from the kitchen with a can of coke in each hand. Olette found herself accepting the drink and felt a mild blush forming from having remained loitering in the middle of the room.
"We didn't finish dinner so I'm heating some food up in the kitchen right now. You can sit down if you want." His words were a salve that seemed to smooth onto her, a welcome touch from the more stressful events earlier in the evening. She took a moment to decide whether or not she really was confident in her decision to stay here before she determined that, for once, she would leave herself to second-guess her choice tomorrow.
Olette stepped over to the nearest piece of furniture, the "mundane" beige loveseat, and lowered herself onto the cushion, mindful not to spill the drink. From the back of the sofa opposite to her, the cat uttered a disgruntled sound, arched its back into a stretch, and slipped off from its perch to slink off to somewhere more private. It was in some way cute enough to cause her to almost smile.
To her side, Seifer stood and studied her. The air hissed at his fingertips as he opened his can and took an indulgent sip. For a period afterward, the can remained idle in his hand while he considered her.
In their short time of interaction, he had already witnessed obvious changes and developments to Olette's personality since he had seen her when they were younger. As a youth, she had been lively and strangely maternal for her age, equipped with common sense that had become useful when dealing with the other members of her childhood group of friends. Over time as they had graduated high school and transferred into college, he had noticed an unexpected absence in those friends. She had matured into an intelligent, witty, and attractive young woman, and every day she grew more as such, the less he saw her socialize. In fact, the more she accomplished concerning education, the less he saw her at the college. Rumors had spread that she was too good for most of society and had taken on two jobs to make up for the lack of her social life. The exchange after the graduation ceremony was trivial and he refused to regard rumor as fact based on the little verbal spat he received, but seeing her behavior tonight had brought up more questions.
What turned a beautiful woman with a smile like the sun, friendly and always looking out for everyone else, into someone who was aggressive, bitter, and withdrawn? What lowered her standards so that she compromised her quality of life and allowed herself to live in miserable housing, isolated from the rest of the world, with hardly any food, clothes, and any time to herself? What made her choose to slave over two jobs so she could return to a dump in which to live alone every night? She obviously had goals or else she would not have cared to further her education in the college. She had interests and talents, if her art was any indication. She was brilliant, the evidence revealed through her stellar grades. For all this, though, she was alone and largely discontented with life, and seemed unwilling to do anything to change it.
When Olette looked up from the couch, her eyes met Seifer's and she instantly felt self-conscious. His stare was intense and pensive; it concealed much more than his face could have shown and yet it was clear that his focus was on her. He could have been thinking anything. It made her shift in her seat and she tried to hide the fact that it affected her by taking a sip out of the coke can. Her lips twitched upwards nervously and she kept her eyes trained ahead where the Siamese had been moments before.
Seifer cleared his throat to break the silence. She glanced at him and then back at the sofa.
"Do you want some chicken? I have some that's been baked. There's rice with it, too."
It seemed so ridiculous that someone so plainly wealthy would eat something as simple as chicken; yet, from her most recent dining experience, Olette could not remember the last time she had eaten anything like either chicken or rice. The meals for the past week alone had consisted entirely of boxes of Apple Jacks, the last grocery item in her pantry. Her stomach reminded her that she had not yet eaten a real dinner tonight, either, aside from the pitiful amount of aforementioned cereal.
"If you don't mind," she replied hesitantly.
"I wouldn't offer if I'd mind. Don't worry about it." Seifer remained where he stood a moment longer, eyes lingering on her, before he returned to the kitchen and left Olette to herself.
The brunette was unsure of what to think or how to feel. Over the course of the day she had embarrassed herself on several occasions with more severity than she cared to acknowledge. While Seifer had proven himself capable of noting the needs of others, not just his own, and acting on those observations in incomprehensible forbearance, her fear of being seen as repulsive for her own shortcomings in etiquette prevented her from feeling relaxed around him.
She was not able to deny that he had been generous to her tonight, though she could still not fathom any reason for it. Aside from his caterwauling outside her apartment, the blond had been completely and unexpectedly pleasant in both his actions and conversation. Blunt to the point of almost being tactless, he had attempted to confront certain subjects of her life that no one had ever dared to touch, mostly because it had been a while since she had even been spoken to by anyone. Every effort she made to rebuff him was futile and, tonight, her vulnerability in the streets had led her to abandon her strive for independence in favor for companionship.
That did not change the fact that Olette still did not know Seifer Almasy that well.
He was an anomaly by all accounts. Over the years, he had changed from a wholly self-centered, brash, demanding fool to someone who received respect, and rightly so. The favor among his peers was well-earned due to his accomplishments and agreeable nature. His grades were above average, if only slightly, and he was known for having held a steady and decent job for the entirety of his period in college. With an extensive ring of friendships and countless, adoring female fans, he was idolized and envied by all the students that had been around him. Now that he was out of college she did not doubt that he would advance in his career, whatever that might be, and express romantic interests in pursuit of a family of his own. His standards of living were decent at a minimum and he wasted little effort or time on anything beneath those standards.
So Olette could not understand why he had appeared outside her apartment door. There was no sense in his expressed desire to take her out to a dinner. Beyond that kindness, he had extended an invitation to his own house for the sake of her comfort. During the entire time he had not even hinted at anything remotely perverse or sexual, as if he were interested more in interacting with her than he was in hunting for what he could get out of her. It was like he saw something in her that even she could not see in herself. That thought threatened to unsettle her.
"You still good with your drink?"
Seifer's voice startled the female out of her train of thoughts. As he approached with plates loaded with chicken and rice, utensils jutting out of his pockets, she glanced down at the can in her hand. She still had most of her coke and the drink had been forgotten while she had tried to figure out her reason of being here.
"I have enough."
"Alright. If you need anything else, just let me know and I'll get it for you."
The dim glow of lamps from the wall cast the colors of sunset on the plate he offered to her. Olette stared at it with thinly concealed amazement. A pair of chicken breasts, seasoned with herbs, had been placed on a bed of wild rice. It made her mouth water and she had to suck her stomach in to prevent it from roaring in hunger. Her hands grasped onto the plate and she carefully transferred it over to her lap. She accepted the fork, knife, and napkin with the same caution, handling each thing as if it were laden with traps. It was not until Seifer sat across from her on the sofa that she found her voice.
"It looks great. Thank you."
"Sure. No big deal. Not every night I get to have a pretty lady eat my own cooking."
"You made this yourself?" She blinked at her plate in surprise. It was neatly arranged and looked well cooked enough to be a heat-and-serve dinner. Had he not mentioned it, she never would have guessed him to be the chef of the dish.
"Yeah. It shouldn't be that strange, really. If you want to eat, you learn to cook. It's what normal people do." Normal people. The words struck her strangely and her appetite drifted away. The brunette nudged her rice with a fork while Seifer proceeded to cut into his chicken. He was quick to notice her lack of appetite and paused mid-bite.
Thus far today, the female had been a wild card in response to events; conversation had been difficult at best and there had been high volumes of tension. Now, there was a visible difference in her mannerisms. It was almost like she was subdued, or exhausted in a way that suggested that she had not slept in days. He made an attempt to test the waters carefully.
"Do you need something else to go with your food?"
"No." Her reply was immediate and succinct. Still she did not begin to eat. The blond suspected it was something beyond food, but he had no idea how to even start to address an unknown subject when he had no idea how far he could go.
"Would you prefer to sit somewhere else?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you not hungry anymore?"
"No." Whether that meant she was no longer hungry, or if it meant she was still hungry, he had no idea.
"Is it me being here? I can move if you want so you can eat alone."
"That's not it."
"Then what is it?"
Olette peered down at her plate with mild confusion. He was prying as subtly as he could, that much was obvious to her, but his degree of patience yet again baffled her. It was his house, and he had every right to be frustrated with her tightlipped responses. Instead, he had resumed eating, but he was doing so slowly and glancing up at her with peculiar frequency. His interest was beyond her understanding. He had helped her tonight when most others would have left her on the streets for a cruel fate, and for that reason alone she relented at great length.
"It's not the food," she admitted. She set her fork down on the side of her plate. The sound resounded with her and gave her the imagery that the icy walls of defense around her had just been chipped. His fork echoed hers as he gave pause to eating in order to give her his full attention. She swallowed thickly and inhaled deeply; she needed to at least seem calm when she spoke.
"You don't have to do any of this for me. I'm just another failure in life who managed to graduate college. I was asinine to you earlier today and rejected nearly every attempt you made to be kind to me. I don't deserve your help, and I don't understand why you insist on continuing to try to give me any. I don't understand you at all."
Seifer had already figured it had nothing to do with the food, but he genuinely found himself surprised at her explanation. Before he could form any sort of response, she had continued. Now that she had started, she would finish.
"There are so many better people you could be spending your time on. I'm sure you have friends and I know you have lots of girls who would love to be in my place right now." It was strangely difficult not to sound bitter at that. "No matter what I think, I still don't understand why you showed up at my apartment and tried to spend some time with me. I'm just a recluse who spends her time fantasizing about what I don't have in life, who lives in a dumpy apartment building, who spends so much time working that I've become unaccustomed to socializing with anyone, who's just a nobody that doesn't meet even average in society."
Olette found herself blinking back tears.
"I know what people say about me, and a lot of what they say is true. People have standards, and you clearly have some far better than what I do. So why are you spending time with me? It doesn't feel like I fit your standards at all. It doesn't seem like I warrant any attention from someone like you at all."
His expression was unreadable through the sudden onslaught of tears. The dam in her had begun to break. She was confused and unsure, frustrated with everything in her life, seemingly unable to deal with the recent events and the potential changes that stood before her – and she was unraveling all of this in front of a practical stranger.
"Someone like me," was all Seifer said at first. She stared at him blankly, mute while he set his plate aside on the sofa and pushed himself up to stand. It seemed like he was going to leave the room in disgust judging from his stride around to the back of the furniture, his shoulders tense and his face too masked to be normal.
"Someone like me," he repeated again, voice soft, his back to her and his hands in his pockets. From where he stood, the light from the kitchen was blocked off by his figure and his back was lit by the faint glow emanating from the lamps.
"What sort of person did you think I was?" There was a little laugh under his breath. "Or, rather, what sort of person did you think I am?"
He turned to face her when she said nothing, and Seifer could not remember having ever seen anyone else look so distinctly lost. She was staring at him with emerald eyes shimmering with tears, hands resting in her laps with her fingers clutching wrinkles into her black skirt. Those sneakers stood out terribly, much like she seemed to view herself with the rest of the world around her. A medley of grief, disappointment, confusion, fatigue, desperation, loss – they all ghosted across her face in that moment. With the dim light tracing over her, she looked like a broken angel, one who had her dignity and life slip out of her fingers and, through sheer resolve to regain it, had struggled so far; but one who had now slipped for what might be the final time, there being an indecision to continue after so much struggle and failure, and there being an insecurity about self-worth, and there being an uncertainty if that light of hope in the darkness was truly worth pursuing. It was a fairly cliché description and yet the most fitting one he could find. The picture burned into his mind so strongly, he doubted that he would forget it anytime soon.
Seifer came around the sofa and crossed the room to her. He sat beside her but refrained from touching her. There was a large gap in discussion, her questions unanswered for the period of silence, and he just listened. The sound of their breathing and of her ill-disguised sniffles hovered in the air around them for several minutes. His eyes focused straight ahead on the table in the kitchen while the female beside him worked to regain some composure. At great length, he sighed and looked down to her.
"Olette, do you know why I came to your house?"
At his question, the brunette wiped away more salty liquid with the back of her hand and with her palms, shook her head, and peered up at him with the makings of swellings around her eyes.
"Because you weren't interested, that's why."
Her brows furrowed as she tried to grasp the meaning of his statement. A moment later, Olette's mouth twisted down into a frown. Her voice was unsteady but harbored clear traces of offense.
"What did you say?"
A bit of confusion of his own filtered into his eyes. Too late he understood the implications she had perceived.
"You mean to tell me you came to my house and embarrassed me by commenting on my impoverished conditions because I wasn't interested? You pretended to care about what I felt and tried to be nice to me because that was really what you wanted, wasn't it? It never was about me; it was about doing whatever you wanted, and even if I wasn't interested, you were going to do it anyways because of what? What? Because there was some sort of conquest you had yet to achieve? Because there was some sort of self-conscious gratification about yourself that you had yet to attain?"
"No, no, no, that's not it –"
She sucked air into her cheeks, suddenly feeling livid. All this time she had been foolish enough to think that he had changed, but really nothing had changed. Seifer Almasy could not possibly have the capability of changing into anyone attractive, anyone who cared about anyone else, anyone who would take no for an answer.
Olette grabbed the plate from her lap and stuffed it at him along with the drink. He caught them in his hands with a perplexed look in her direction.
"What –"
"I should have known better," she ground out, feeling heat take over her face. "I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have left my house to go anywhere with you."
"Now wait a minute –"
"You never were interested in anyone but yourself. You think one nice thing changes anything? Is that what you think?" Her voice began to rise and she got to her feet. "That's not how life works!"
Seifer realized things had blown out of proportion faster than he could ever have anticipated. He dropped the plate and drink onto the cushion behind him and stood up. His hand barely caught her wrist before she had begun to stomp away for the door. She jerked away to free herself, but he would not relent. Athletics had given him a solid build and a firm grip when he wanted to use them.
"Listen to me."
"No! Get away from me! I'm leaving – leaving here and I don't want to hear anything you have to say, you pompous git, you –"
"Will you shut up?" For the first time since her outbursts, his voice had reached a point near of impatient yelling. It stunned her into a momentary silence and he seized upon the opportunity to correct her.
"I didn't mean I was going to steamroll over you. I genuinely wanted to take you out to dinner because of you." He saw her mouth open and held up his other hand to silence her. "No, stop. Listen, please." She stared at him sullenly but in obedient quiet beside short huffs of breath.
"What I meant when I said that you weren't interested is that you weren't interested in what you could get out of me." Seeing her once-again dumbfounded stare, he exhaled in moderate relief and tried to finish now what he had meant to finish a minute ago.
"There are too many people who want to ride my tailcoats. It's too easy to mooch off of someone who already has money or successes so you don't have to do it yourself. People try to be around me for appearances and what they can gain out of it, thinking that my friendship will equal some sort of shared wealth, and it gets kind of tiring after a while. When I bumped into you earlier, I realized you weren't like that. Sure, I forgot your name – it's been years, I'm sorry – but I never really forgot what you were like; and I did hear things about you, but none of them really rubbed me the wrong way. That might seem hard for you to believe, but because of your differences, you stand out to me with potential. Good potential."
He released her arm and, to further his relief, she did not proceed for the exit. Instead, she stared dumbly at him with disbelief and something else he could not discern.
"It's been a while since I spent time with people just to spend time with them. I usually have to fend off people prowling for gain. Do you understand? I never went to get anything out of you. You had nothing to offer me, and that's fine; it was more that you didn't want anything I had."
Olette pressed her lips together until she had almost rolled them into her teeth as far back as they would go. She had just blindly accused an innocent man of intending to commit some sort of heinous deed against her, and he had just proved her wrong in an unfairly kind and longsuffering manner – again. She had never felt so humiliated before in her life.
"I'm – I'm so s-sorry, I had no idea – I just – I can't seem t-to – my temper – I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Just as before in her apartment, Olette began to sob, and the words "I'm sorry" poured out of her mouth in repetition so much that they eventually became unintelligible. Her body became racked with tremors. She tried to wipe her tears away but they escaped at such a rapid speed that it only served to coat her hands and the effort was otherwise useless. When he tried to reach for her, she stepped backwards and shook her head back and forth with great force, and continued to weep relentlessly in the middle of the room.
Seifer gazed at her with concern, briefly unsure of what to do. He was hesitant to touch her again, and this called for more than just a simple arm around the shoulders. It was more than a childish display of waterworks; this was grief. Her face would need cold water and her eyes would probably need ice after this. She still needed to eat and plainly would need rest. But he could offer her none of these with her in such an unstable state. Ultimately, he decided that it was best to gain some control over the situation before she exhausted herself to the point of passing out on his floor.
The blond closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. He was, at first, met with resistance, but it was weak and she soon succumbed to his embrace. His hands offered her a small consolation in comforting strokes along the back of her head, on wavy curls of chocolate, and one arm encircled her torso with some protectiveness; but it was mostly soft tones of his voice that soothed her. There was again a relative stillness in the air, disrupted only by the soft sounds of her erratic but steadying breathing, the hiccups and sobs muffled by his chest, the murmurs of hushed words into her hair.
It was an intimate moment that offered solace and she was too beside herself to refuse. Olette knew she had been a fool in extreme measures tonight and felt obligated to make up for it somehow, but right now she could think of nothing to remedy it. She could concentrate on nothing at all but the feel of someone stronger and more solid than she was right now. When her sobs subsided and the hiccups left her, she eased out of his hold gingerly and stared down at his floor with shame.
"I should go."
"You don't have to."
"But I – I've been a huge jerk and I shouldn't impose on you anymore."
"It's not a problem. My offer to stay the night still stands."
"But –"
"I don't mind it at all." Seifer breathed out as if considering the wisdom of the next words, then added, "I'd like it if you stayed tonight."
There was a great moment of deliberation as she weighed the possible outcomes of her decisions. If she went home, she would have to suffer an uncomfortable feeling during the ride. She would then be alone in her apartment dwelling of questionable state, left to feel vulnerable and paranoid that, at any moment, a lewd stranger might crawl in through her window or break into her door and abuse her. If she stayed here, none of those things were an issue; and, while she might feel conscientious about being in Seifer's house overnight, especially since she barely knew him, it was only for one night. Exhaustion and the need for security won out. Plus, he had said he did not mind – that he would like it. That had to count for something after he had suffered all this from her so far.
The brunette gave a sigh of defeat and offered a fragile smile at him.
"Thank you." He returned her smile warmly, relieved at her choice. There was more confidence that she would be safe here – not only from unwanted and criminal guests, but also from herself.
"Anytime, Olette. Do you want to finish dinner, or do you me to take you to the guest room now?"
A pang of hunger reawakened in her belly at the mention of dinner. In her explosive fit, she had forgotten that she was truly hungry. Color spilled into her cheeks. Now that the emotional state of calamity had ended, she felt ravenous.
"Dinner, please."
"Right this way, then," and the blond dipped halfway into a bow and waved her over to the loveseat again.
The rest of the night went more smoothly as they dined together on chicken and rice. Seifer entertained her with stories of various, humiliating experiences during college sports. He pulled laughs out of her with tales of detailed pranks he and others had inflicted on uptight and unsuspecting classmates and teachers. Tears of amusement trickled out of her eyes when he shared his memory of his first night out of his parents' house.
When the food had disappeared off both of their plates, Seifer stacked the dishes on top of each other and excused himself to place them in his dishwasher and set the machine to work. By the time he returned, Olette was curled up in the corner of his loveseat, drink considerately set on the floor so as not to spill, her arms folded over themselves on the side, head nestled on the corner of her elbow. Her eyes fluttered slightly against her cheeks, stray curls of hair lingered over her face, and her lips were parted to allow for soundless breaths against the arm of the furniture.
He allowed himself a little smile and slipped out of the room to the kitchen. From there, he made his way through to the formal dining room and up the stairs just around the corner to the left. A comforter was removed from a hallway closet and he sneaked downstairs back to her sleeping form. He was careful not to wake her as he draped the thick fabric over her, and he was rewarded with a complacent sigh one makes when falling deeper into blissful unconsciousness.
On his way out of the living room, Seifer glanced back to her to double-check that she had everything she would need until morning. He hoped she would rest well, and that dawn would bring him an opportunity to get to know her better. She was definitely different. Many others who had so desperately attempted to woo him and win his heart had come up empty. She had ignited his interest in trying to avoid it.
A soft chuckle echoed in his chest as he exited the room and headed for his bedroom. For the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to the morning.