Chapter 3: There's No U In Boob

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"Why didn't you just ask?" Gwen asks wondering who goes around kissing people just to see if they like him.

"Well, you wouldn't let me get in a word at all, I had to do something."

Oh yeah, that. Perhaps she should invest fully into developing her verbal diarrhea so hot guys kiss her more often. But Gwen suspects he's not like other guys, at least none that she's ever met. Steve would never have kissed her to get her to stop talking, let alone kiss her like his life depended on her lips embracing his.

Gwen wonders if her eyes have turned into zombies, as they can't seem to take their gaze off of his. Eyes. The color, it's like something unreal, it's green at times, but with hints of blue and gray. She leans in closer to get a better view and perhaps snag another kiss, but he removes his hand from her and steps back causing her to stumble forward into his chest.

Most people would be embarrassed by this turn of events, but what they don't realize is his shirt smells amazing all sexy man scented. But the best part, his thick chest muscles she is currently rubbing her face in as if he is a hand towel and she just washed her face. Is this weird? Probably, but he hasn't stopped her yet, so she's going to go with it.

"Um, that is my chest."

"I know," is what she said but he heard, "Imnokm" due to his chest being in the way.

Gathering all her strength, Gwen pushes away from Dorian not quite getting her fill but enough to tide her over and turns to face the menus spread out over the pale bamboo floor. Bending down to retrieve them she senses him hovering over top waiting for her to say something, but she just keeps busy.

He makes a noise, clearing his throat indicating he wants her to stand, face him and explain her odd behavior but she can't. She's embarrassed now. It's always after Gwen has done ridiculous and cringe worthy things, that her conscious taps her shoulder. Never beforehand when she has a chance to stop herself.

When she finally stands she walks over to the couch in the living room, to look at him. As she plops her rump on the soft white cushions she brings the menus up to her face as if analyzing each with precision. Dorian is walking toward her; she can hear his feet pad the floor. The couch dips as he takes his place next to her.

"So, Chinese or pizza?" Gwen blurts out while the menus still hide her face.

Nothing. He doesn't give her a response. Her hands are going to start to shake, she knows it if he doesn't talk soon. The overwhelming embarrassment of the last ten minutes is sinking into her veins and only a distraction will stop her limbs from panicking. A distraction like his velvet voice.

He's stubborn or just enjoys watching her squirm, which for some reason excites Gwen. Perhaps she can play stubborn too. She has all the time in the world, until Monday when she has to go to class, but other than that she can sit here and not talk as much as he can!

Gwen suddenly finds this Mexican menu quite fascinating, as it's in both English and Spanish. She doesn't know the Spanish language but perhaps tonight is her night to learn. She taught herself chemistry in high school when she had pneumonia and was out for a month. Gwen is quite sure the Spanish language can't be worse.

Hmm, it says the word for chicken is pollo...

"Are you ignoring me again? Is this about the kiss?"

Ha! She won.

Gwen lowers her Spanish lesson and looks him in the eye. He's smirking and trying his best to hold in his laughter as his shoulders begin to tremble. He's laughing at her! What the hell is so funny?

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