Hey, sorry this took so long! :P Im really busy, and I have to work on starting my other story. I just wanted to get the characters started for that story. So, here's chapter 5 finally! Ill try to get the first chapter of my other story up this week. So enjoy, feel free to give ideas in comments, and VOTE! VOTE VOTE VOTE if you like! Read other chapters and vote on them too! VOOOTEEE! Thanks for all the readers and voters so far that have gotten me up to the first page on What's Hot. :P VOTE! Enjoy!









Chapter 5



We ended up going to Olive Garden- a family favorite. Well, when we can afford it anyway. Which is hardly ever. So, I made good use of the treat and ordered the all-you-can-eat pasta special. Fettuccini noodles with creamy Alfredo sauce-mmm! Can't get better than that!

I went through two bowls and was about to order a third, (I'm not a fatty, I just wanted some for later so don't judge me! >:O) when my mom nudged my arm gave me a "don't you dare act like a pig in front of these people" look. Fine, looks like no to-go box for me.

The whole thing was extremely awkward, for me at least. We were seated at a table for six, my family (minus Felipe) on one side, and the Collins on the other, with Tristan of course sitting straight in front of me.

Our parents tried to strike up a conversation between the two of us, but that didn't really happen. So our parents talked, the dads about business and finalizing this retarded arrangement, and the moms blabbered on and on about...ugh...wedding plans- ew!

Remind me again why I'm actually doing this? Because I'm a half-decent human being and love my family. That, and I don't have a choice. Whatever. At least I'm only forced to stay in this thing for two years. Then well get divorced and ill even walk away with a bit of money. Heh, call me a selfish gold- digger, but you're not the one being forced to marry a 21 year old, rude, conceited, careless, insensitive, perverted (yeah, he's made a few small comments and stares at me in places he shouldn't), self-obsessed...mysterious...beautiful....ASSHOLE!

"Hello? Helloooo-ooooh? Anybody home?" I heard Tristan's voice say. I snapped out of my spacing and lightly shook my head. I looked back up to see a waving Tristan with a smirk on his face. Wonder what he's thinking. Actually, I probably don't. Whatever, I ask anyway.

"What's that smirk about?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

His lip just twitched at the corner, and he wouldn't answer me. I rolled my eyes, figuring he was giving me the silent treatment for now, and would come around later. Not that I cared, or wanted him to.

I took a slow slip of my root beer and sensed eyes on my face. Looking up, I briefly snuck a peek up at Tristan. I expected to see him staring off into space, listening to his iPod, or something. I was right. He had those little white headphones in his ears, and was staring.

At me.
With a small smile. A real smile. Our eyes locked, and all of a sudden, like a little kid caught eating the cookies from the cookie jar, dropped his eyes to his lap, where his hands lay folded. I continued looking at him, trying to catch his gaze. But goddamnit this boy wouldn't look up!

I lightly cleared my throat in a failed attempt to get his attention. Dios, this boy is so stubborn! Fine, he asked for it. Under the table, I kicked at his foot. Finally he looked up, his face twisted into some sort of a scowl/smirk, with hints of amusement, embarrassment, and even a bit of surprise.

"Why you tryin' so hard to get my attention, eh, Talesia?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. And he refuses to call me Tilly! "A little stalkerish, maybe?" He smirked.

I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Oh, of course, I just can't get enough of you. Because, you know, I was the one staring at you like a fat man does a buffet."

"Aw, come on wifey, don't flatter yourself. I was simply returning the favor," he said matter-of-factly.

"Uh, care to elaborate there?" I asked, confused. What is he talking about?

He chucked, that deep, husky sound...and said, " Oh, Talesia, don't you remember just three minutes ago, when you were off in la-la-land, staring at me, and, if I'm not mistaken, you were staring at my lips."

Wait, what? I don't remember that. I mean, I remember spacing, planning a divorce, but I don't remember looking at him. In fact, I don't remember looking at anything.

"Tristan, I was not staring at you, let alone your lips. I was spacing. Planning a divorce in fact," I said, and smirked.