The Billionaire's Sweet Trouble

13

Curious, I asked again, "promise I won't. What is it?"

"Being in a boat distant from land, and sea waves," she smiled, "it's called thalassophobia."

My forehead furrowed. She probably had an unpleasant experience before.

"That's not funny at all. I know many people who are scared of cruising because they get seasick."

"Well, the waves gives me anxiety," she admitted, then asked, "what about you, do you have any fear? Seems like you don't have one."

"Of course, I have. All human beings have fear, even the strongest man," I chuckled, and shook my head, "but I won't tell you my fear. You're going to write about it and tell the world."

"I won't if you don't want me to," she assured me.

"You're going to laugh," I teased her.

"Try me," but she was laughing already.

"Peanuts," I chuckled.

"Peanuts? How can you be scared of them? They're tiny little beads and taste delicious."

"They're deadly to me. I get a bad allergy whenever I eat peanuts and I always end up in the ER."

She pouted, looking sad, "seriously?"

I nodded, "that's why I have to be careful eating in restaurants. Usually, I only eat at ours, because we don't serve anything with peanuts."

"I see. I'll keep that in mind while we're into this... dating deal," she gave me a determined look, then said, "no peanut oil, no peanut cookies and ice cream, no peanut butter with banana... oh darn. I feel suddenly sad for you. I can't imagine myself not eating peanut butter for the rest of my life, they're my favorite thing!"

The way she said it was so cute. Instead of feeling bad, my lips curved into an unconscious smile.

"They're not my favorite though. I'd feel the same if I'm deprived of steak and potatoes."

"That would be terrible. Thank God it's only peanuts," we stared at each other and laughed. She diverted the topic by asking, "how often do you do this activity?"

"Twice a week. I'd like to do it often but I can't because of work."

Her eyes darted at the high stoned-wall again, "that looks like a strenuous exercise."

"It is. All muscles in the body will work, starting from the fingertips down to the toes. But what I like in this — it's like puzzle solving, planning ahead what my next step is and at the same time, improves my stability and physical coordination."

"I agree. Let's see if I can reach the top."

"You don't have to follow the difficulty level, use the boulders and just have fun," we walked towards the climbing wall, as we were set to start, "have you done wall climbing before?"

"Nope. I only climbed on our orange tree when I was a kid," she said, "how about you?"

I slowed down walking, as I noticed she was catching up with my long strides.

"I did worse. I climbed walls to cut classes during grade school," I chuckled when her eyes grew big.

"Oh, you did that too!" her lips twisted, "I guess most men experienced that."

"Most probably. But when I was a kid, I imagined myself as Spider-Man. Like you, I climbed trees. We had many gigantic trees at home... Then I advanced to climbing walls and gates. I was good at sneaking around and got my bodyguards in trouble. I'm sure you've read more stuff about me when I was a kid. They're all over the internet."