I Hate You But I Love You More

Chapter 3

I blink twice at him and he does the same. Why does that water drop sound effect pops into my head at each blink? I haven't spend a proper day with the guy yet and I'm already losing my marbles.

I quickly grasp my ears, a nervous laugh emitting my throat. "I'm looking for my earring." He nods and I swear he is silently laughing at me for a split second. It is brief because let's face it. Does Darson know what a smile is? A genuine one? Much less a laugh?

"But isn't it in your ear?" His eyebrows arch and I can see he is enjoying himself.

I clutch my ears and the awkward laugh forces itself through again. "Oh, so strange." I throw myself onto the couch, my eyes wandering everywhere but Darson. Way to embarrass myself.

I fold my hands on my lap and take the opportunity to view the room. It is small but very cozy. Two plush cream sofas are on each side of the jet and in the middle is a small coffee table with a few stacks of magazines. I am not surprise he has his own jet and I am definitely not surprise it is this classy.

I reach for a magazine that catches my attention. I may as well occupy myself. It's not like we're getting down from here any time soon and it's very unlikely Darson will participate in unnecessary banter I imagine he will call it. "What's wrong with your hand?" At first I am confuse. The stinging in my hand that follows reminds me of my little misstep yesterday.

"I fell." I answer simply.

"When?" He pushes on and I blow a sigh, my eyes finding his.

"When you refused to help." He remains silent for a moment. What is going on in that egotistical, swell headed brain of his? I really wonder.

"I wasn't at fault so why should I? What am I? One of your help from the Bain mansion?" He says this so unbothered that I can't begin to believe this guy.

"A human. You're human." He rolls his eyes. How does he even manage to look good rolling his eyes back into his head? I don't understand.

"Get a first aid kit." The flight attendant who happens to be passing by nods before leaving. He goes back to reading his magazine and I can't help but glare at him.

"Here it is. I'll do it, sir." The flight attendant announces but he takes the kit from her hands.

"I'll do it. Go take a break." She nods before she leaves with her hands folded in front her. Darson reaches for my hand and I quickly pull it to my chest. I eye him suspiciously. He narrows his eyes at me and I do the same. Why did he offer to do this? I'm skeptical about his intentions.

Darson then stands and slowly makes his way toward me. I stand as well, discreetly moving away inch by inch. Why is he looking at me like that? Like a lion will at his prey.

I am about to make a run for it but he grabs me by the waist and pulls me toward him. My back hits against his chest which results with his face being directly next to mine. I can basically feel his breath against my face. Personal space violation.

There's an unfamiliar feeling in my stomach I can't quite put my finger on. That's definitely because of the height. I mean, what else can it be?

His hand goes down to cup mine and I glance over my shoulder to look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed as he is deep in thought. He then lifts my hand up to eye level to inspect it. The gash isn't that big. It is a mere scratch.

"I'll clean it and put a bandage." He swiftly turns on his heels all the while dragging me towards the couch. He turns so sharply, I almost bump into him. A hand clamps down on my shoulder then pushes me to sit on the sofa. Darson takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table then proceed to open the small first aid kit.