TWICE FOR LOVE (An Mbti College Romance)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: KINDER, MY LOVE.

PART TWO: THE STALK

(ENFJ) ANNA'S POV

I might have to check my ID card again. I should hand him a copy. No, wait. The university's admit card will do too. He only needs to confirm my age. I have been mistaken for older a few times but never for young. A toddler at that.

I blink at Denver who has both his hands resting on the table, his fingers entwined. He means business.

I glance at the object of my internal conflict. My brow twitches at the bag of Kinder Bueno, sitting innocently on the table and making my mouth water.

The smooth crispy milky goodness would melt in my mouth simultaneously melting me in my seat. No! I shake my head! We lost track.

But chocolate. Kinder, my love. No. Stay steadfast! I glare at the innocent bag. You won't tempt me.

We are at the nearest unaccommodated space which happens to be the Sentinal's common room. Denver's suggestion. It will save us the ten-minute walk to the library and back. We sat down to 'business' as he put it.

When he waved to me in the hall a minute ago and asked for a word, I felt a flutter in my chest. I am glad that it wasn't awkward between us after the last study session. The flutter won't let my grin drop even if I am a little confused. I school my face into a blank look.

Right after we took seats near the window he said he got an idea. Then pulled out a bag of Kinder Beuno. Then he made his pitch.

Hence, I've been sitting here sporting a frown and debating if I need to see an Audiologist.

I fake cough, "So, let me get this straight. Your plan includes me reading through the topics you kindly made a break-up syllabus of and answering questions. If I get one right I will get a piece of Beuno and if I get one wrong then you get one? "

"Yes", he says.

I nod and clear my throat again. "Just to be sure. How old do you think I am? ", I question.

He seems to ponder, "Physically or mentally? Which age are we talking about here? " "Both.", I answer helpfully.

"Physically? I don't know for I am yet to see you lift a bus. But mentally four or some?.", he says with a straight face.

My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. "Sorry. Five?", he corrects himself. Is he serious? Was I too immature? Did I overdo the happy-go-lucky?

Then I see him pressing his lips together. My jaw drops. Is he for real? I nearly smack him with the stack of papers I have. He grins. His eyes are suddenly playful.

I didn't realize we had entered the teasing territory. If so then.

"But just exchanging chocolates is boring.", I spin my own scheme, folding my arms onto the table. He raises a brow, looking interested, " Okay, how can I make this more intriguing for you? "

This time I bite my lower lip. He glances down and reverts to my eyes in a jiffy. I almost didn't catch it.

"A flick will do." His brows clash, "A flick? " "When I get a question right, I get to flick your forehead and if I get a question wrong you are free to flick mine. "

I sit back, proud of myself. He mulls it over and drums his fingers rhythmically on the table. It sounds nice. And familiar.

I have heard it, haven't I?

Before I can skim through the music catalogue in my brain Denver speaks, unsurely, "Are you sure? I don't think you can survive that many flicks."

My jaw drops. He did not.