"I see you're quite famished, Miss Long," Abel said, gazing quietly at the five bowls of food I had emptied in the blink of an eye. There was a twinge of appalment in his dark, sultry eyes.
At his sudden statement — the first thing he had said since we both sat down for breakfast fifteen minutes earlier, other than his order for me to serve the food, that is — I looked up at his alluring face, shocked.
Then, I immediately looked down at my food, regretting looking at him. My brain was already malfunctioning that morning due to an earth-shattering event, but now my heart was also involved in that malfunctioning after catching a glimpse of his just-out-of-bed look. Why does he have to be so cute with those ethereal, somnolent dark eyes, disheveled black hair, and that faint stubble at his chin? Not to mention that tired look he always gives his food before digging in, that's too cute~!
Wait...'CUTE'? CUTE, as in C-U-T-E?
Suddenly, I gave the lobster on my plate a quaking slap with my fork.
The resulting impact shook the whole table, which — you guessed it — wasn't quite big, so Abel conveniently received part of the impact when his noodles were hurled up by the sudden force, onto his face.
The temperature in the room fell drastically as a certain stony visage darkened ominously, but I was too busy glaring at the lobster to be fretting over the temperature, or the beast whose wrath I had ignited.
CUTE? Which hole did that unworldly word crawl out from? How could 'he' be cute? He's...he's—
"Miss Long?"
His sultry voice interrupted me. I had learned my lesson and didn't dare look up, for the sake of my malfunctioning heart. But...there was something unusual about his tone. If I were to be more prudent with my words, he kind of sounded as though he wanted to strangle me. Yes, that was the most vivid description of his voice. Er...wait a minute...Wanted to strangle me?
My eyes trembled. Did he want to kill me?
I suddenly felt a stamp of a foot beside me on the floors made of tatami. Abel had stood up from his seat and was standing beside me. He was glowering daggers down at my head which was seemingly buried in my food, unwilling to look up at him.
"Miss Long?" he repeated, each syllable being emphasized.
I gulped and cleared my throat noisily, "Y-Yes?"
"Look. At. Me." He ordered darkly, his voice freezing the air in my lungs. I coughed uncomfortably, trying to ignore the rapid collapse of my heart. Why was it that his cold, threatening, sensual voice also made my heart malfunction? And...he...he wanted me to look at him...?
'You would do a lot more than just looking, wouldn't you?' A devilish little voice whispered, looking a lot like a miniature Abigail, but with two black horns plastered on her head. I shooed the sinister little creature away without a moment's thought.
Then, I hesitantly lifted my gaze to his. I couldn't help but notice that his handsome face was suspiciously wet...with soup...and bits of noodles. Ha...haha...how did that happen? I smiled wryly, remembering my attack on the lobster and the resultant impact that shook the table. Oh...darn it! I'll have to buy a bigger, sturdier table. But the matter of purchasing a new table would have to wait. I brought out my kerchief which was cleaner than anything you could find on me. Then I fumbled it towards his well-chiseled face, mopping off the soup.
Ahem. I 'tried' to not 'accidentally' graze my fingers on his face, but...yeah...accidents happen.
Surprisingly, he did not chop off my hand in response and only fell silent. His eyes seemed to have darkened slightly. His cool gaze lowered to my face which had suddenly pulled closer as I stood up to avoid straining my arm.
A tense silence reigned between us. Like a fool who didn't care about their malfunctioning heart, I unwittingly kept my gaze on his dark eyes that dug into me intense throbs of emotion. My hand that held the kerchief against his cheek paused as his hand clasped my wrist gently. My heart thudded against my chest, my wrist burning with his touch. Subconsciously, I bit my lip.
"What is troubling you?" he asked abruptly, still gazing at me quietly. I wondered if he was going to release my wrist, otherwise, I think my hand would be burnt off.
Huh? What did he just say?
My mind gradually processed his query.
Without a second thought, I blurted, "The glitch in my heart." If anything was troubling me, it was my malfunctioning heart! What else?
His brow lifted slightly. He looked a bit irritated as he finally released my hand. But he immediately restrained my waist and pulled me closer - frightfully closer! "No. What I mean is, you've looked troubled by something since this morning," he expounded, a crooked smile tugging at his thin lips, as his other hand caressed a wisp of my wavy black hair that had fallen past my cheek.
My thoughts roamed to his question. How was I supposed to reply? Should I just tell it straight to his face: 'My first kiss was taken by a random girl I met this morning' while adding some crocodile tears to make it more dramatic?
My lips curled downward when I discerned the sincerity in his gaze. Somehow, the idea didn't fit quite well with me. When my eyes veered to his unfathomable dark eyes that were still fixated on me quietly, all my mechanisms of deceit collapsed. I couldn't lie to such a nice-looking face.
His lean hand was now lingering near my cheek.
Fuck pride!
"I was kissed by a random girl," I said, feeling prodded to simply throw myself onto him and perform some unmentionable things.
He froze.
"You what?"