Don't Get Too Attached

Don't Get Too Attached ~Chapter 12~

“I don't like KFC, and I wanted to treat you.”

“Well, thank you. It's incredibly nice of you,” I said, a grin on my face.

“So, what would you like to order?”

The waiter brought us our food, a meat lover's pizza for two. “This looks amazing!” I commented as the waiter left us to eat.

“It does,” Sam replied, reaching for a slice. “It tastes even better!” He savoured his pizza for a while, “How about we carry on our game of 20 Questions? I think we were on ten.”

“Okay then,” I took another slice of pizza as I thought of a question, “Why are you so nice to me? Honestly, I was horrible to you at first, but you put up with it, and you stayed the night with me, and you're treating me to food- which I can pay for,” I added, “and all I ever seem to do it rant about something or other, so why are you nice to me?”

“I like you.” He stated simply.

“What?”

“I like you.” He repeated, a smile on his lips.

“What? I'm not nice to you, I punched you in the face!” I exclaimed.

He merely laughed, “You're not horrible, and the punch was accident, look, it's not even bruised,” he gestured to his eye, “and I find you interesting, you're not like the other girls, you're you. Original; and I like you. Besides, I think it's cute when you go on one of your little rants.”

“Don't call me cute.” I smiled at his reply as I thought of another question, “It's hard to think of questions, umm, what's your ideal type?” In my head, I told myself I didn't care what he answered, it was just a random question, but I knew there was another reason I asked.

“My type? Well, I like peperoni, ham, chicken, anything with meat on it,” he replied, his expression serious.

I laughed, “not pizza type! Like, your type, in girls?” I tried to keep a nonchalant expression as I said it.

“Well, I like short girls,” he winked, “I don't really have a type, but they have to be different, you know?” He told me sincerely.

I nodded in understanding as I stared into his eyes, they were glowing with something electric and I just couldn't look away. “Wh- ho- erm, I don't even know what to ask... Do you have a job?”

“I help train Cammy's football team, but that's voluntarily, I don't have an actual job that pays me.”

“Aw, that's cool, what days does he train?”

“You realise that's another question?” He looks at me and I nod, “Thursdays, then his team plays Sunday mornings.”

“Aw, can I come with you tomorrow then? I could help you train them.”

“Another question..” He sung playfully, “Cammy would love that! Except Brandon helps out some weeks?”

“I don't mind,” I grinned, “It'll be great.” He grinned back at me just as wide and we carried on eating in a comfortable silence.

I'd only had three slices of the pizza, but Sam managed the other seven himself. “Are we having dessert?” He asked.

“Really? Aren't you full?” I asked shocked.

“Trust me, I could have finished the whole pizza, come on, you can choose dessert.”

“Honestly Sam, you don't have to,” I tried to reason with him.

“Come on, Tatty, I'm treating you, and I say choose a desert.” He stated firmly.

“Fine.” I agreed as I scanned the dessert menu he passed me. He smirked smugly as he watched me.

“Here you go, you two love birds enjoy,” The elderly woman who brought us our dessert said smiling, “can I get you anything else darlings?”

“No thank you,” Sam replied, his eyes glistening with something.

“Why does everyone think we're a couple?” I asked him.

“Because we're adorably cute together,” he winked.

“Shut up.” I picked up a spoonful of the sundae in front of us, it was full of whipped cream, Maltese and even a brownie. It was sickeningly sweet, but tasted great... “Ugh, I can't have any more,” I said dropping the spoon in the bowl.

“You've only had three spoonfuls,” Sam quirked an eyebrow up at me.

“And I'm full, I told you not to order it.”

“I'll finish it, don't worry,” he smirked, and proceeded with finishing the sundae...

“Thank you so much for dinner Sam, it's was great,” I said as we walked out of the restaurant.

“It's my pleasure, now come on, I have somewhere to take you.” He took my hand and led me in the direction of the escalators. We wove in and out of the busy shoppers, determined to do their shopping. We were on the third floor and he led me into a department store, “You wanted to paint your boxing room right, so take your pick. He waved his hand towards the stacks of different coloured paints in front of us.

“Aw, Sam! Thank you so much!” I scanned the shelves for red and blue paint, I wanted it to look like a boxing ring. Once I located them, I looked for a small can of black paint.

“I need brushes, this way,” I reached for both cans of paint; I insisted on carrying them, but he refused...

“You can't pay for them, Sam. It's my room, so I'll pay! Honestly, I'll pay for the brushes too.” We were queueing at the till and Sam was insisting on paying for it all, but I was having none of it.

“No. I'm treating you today, Tatty, so I'll pay.”

“No! You already brought me dinner, and you're doing the favour of painting the room, the least I can do is pay for this. And besides, I'm letting you call me 'Tatty', and I hate pet names, so let me pay.” I told him stubbornly.

“That has nothing to do with anything, even if you told me not too, I'd still call you 'Tatty', it's cute,” he flicked my nose and I glared at him, “I'll pay.”

“No, you won't. And that's final, Samuel.”He ignored me and reached for his wallet, but I was quicker.

I passed the money to the cashier before he could and he glared at me as I took my change. “Now come on Samuel, vamos.” I picked up the bags and walked out of the store.