| Chapter 11 |

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Chapter 11

Sniffling, I inched towards Christopher. "So...the soup?" Yet, I wasn't over the fact that Christopher made me soup. Call me dramatic all you want, but this is Christopher we're talking about.

Christopher, with his phone in his lap, glimpsed at me from the corner of his eyes. "What are you doing outside here?"

"I didn't know that you cook," I raised my eyebrows.

"Maybe because my dad owns a chain of restaurants?"

I snorted. "Your dad owns restaurant, that doesn't mean he cooks. And even if he did, did he teach you how to cook?"

Christopher simply sighed in response, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Go away, Daniella," he grumbled irritatedly.

The image of Christopher wearing an apron flashed through my mind, causing me to emit a loud laugh. Christopher's eyebrows rose to the sky and I wiped my nose with a tissue. "Sorry, I just imagined you dressed in an apron."

He gave out a groan and then stood up. "I hope you're aware that you sound like a dying witch," he noted. Narrowing my eyes at him, I hugged myself and followed him towards his car.

Pushing aside his comment, I asked, "Where are you going?" 

"To work," he responded. "Can you put this book back?" Holding out a book towards me, I grabbed it with furrowed eyebrows.

"You work?" I exclaimed in shock.

Christopher looked annoyed. "Yes, Daniella, I work."

"Where?"

"At an ice cream shop," he responded, opening the door that led to the driver's seat.

"But...why?"

I had no clue as to why Christopher would work, when it's pretty clear that his parents were loaded. I don't know if it's just me, but I wouldn't ever work if my parents were loaded. I'd laze around all day while purchasing stuff online.

Christopher opened the door wider and sat in the driver's seat, facing me. His long legs dangled, and I watched as he adjusted his beanie. "I don't like being dependant on my parents. I want to be able to make money for myself. I couldn't care less if my parents are loaded; I want to work because one, believe it or not, I like working, and two, I don't like lazing around."

I was, to say the least, stunned. "You're the complete opposite of me." So that's why Christopher disappeared at times.

It was silent for a moment, until Christopher jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "Can I go now or not? I'm already late, thanks to you."

Stumbling back a few steps, I held up a finger. "Can you wait for me? Please? I'll be back in ten seconds."

He blew out an annoyed sigh as I spun on my heels and hurried towards the house. After placing his book on the couch, I raced back to the car and was relieved to find out that Christopher was still waiting.

"Can I go now?" he asked impatiently.

I swayed back and forth on the heels of my feet. "Can I come with you? Please?"

He shook his head. "No, you're sick," he excused.

"Exactly. I'm sick, meaning you should treat me well."

"What kind of stupid rule is that?" he questioned.

"Come on, Christopher. I want to watch you work."

"Nah."

"Please?" I exhorted, losing my pride and dignity.

Once again, Christopher shook his head. "Nope."

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