Staring contest – a game in which two people maintain eye contact for as long as possible, the loser being the one who is first to blink or look away.
Although this was rather popular in third grade, I found myself in a staring contest right now. He was looking at me, and I was looking at him. It was a game of who'd back down first, and although his honey brown eyes were rather intimidating, I was a sore loser. Even though this wasn't defined as a staring contest, or spoken of as such, it still felt like I was going to lose if I looked away.
We were sitting in the living room, two bowls of untouched chicken soup in front of us. It took a total amount of six fuck's, four shit's and three mierda's for us to make it this far. This only backed up my previous point, that he was in no shape to leave, but I wasn't about to say that because for now, my death wish was not that strong.
"You're not a fan of chicken soup?" I finally spoke, breaking the deepening silence between us.
He narrowed his eyes for what felt like a nano second, before going back to his usual careless expression.
"You haven't touched yours either"
I looked down at my untouched bowl of chicken soup and smiled. Touché.
"You're the guest, you should be the first one to eat, anything else would be rather rude"
A hint of amusement rose on his face, did he find this amusing? Or was I just bad at reading facial expressions.
"How do I know that you haven't put anything in it" As I mentioned earlier, this man seemed to have some serious trust issues, and judging by the fact that he was shot only days ago, it seemed understandable. He lacked logic though.
"I understand your lack of trust based on how you ended up here, but why would I save your life only to take it again by poisoning your chicken soup?" I asked, it was my nicer way of saying, think smart not hard. He still didn't seem to believe me though, which resulted in me taking a spoonful of his soup and eating it.
"Looks like we're both going to die then" I said, the confusion on his face disappeared and then a smile pulled on his lips. Amusement.
I put my spoon back in my own soup and started eating. Making sure to let out some mmm sounds, to make it clear how delicious my soup was. This was a technique we used at the hospital to make kids eat after surgery, when they had lost their appetite. He was no kid, by to looks of it I would say he was in his mid-twenties maybe, but the sight him slowly picking up his spoon meant that the technique worked rather way.
Excitement written all over my face as I watched, as he took his first spoonful of soup. Did he like it? Was it as good as I thought? Or did he hate it? His eyes shot up at mine, which resulted in my cheeks turning a bright shade of red at the embarrassment of getting caught staring.
"Are you going to stare at me the whole time while I eat?"
"Depends. Did you like it?" I asked back, with a smirk.
"No."
The smirk on my face faded away in seconds and got replaced with a pout. Everybody liked my chicken soup, they used to cheer when I brought some to work.
"Oh." I let out, gaining a chuckle from him. I looked up, and he was chuckling at what I think was my reacting to him not liking my specialty. This only meant one thing, he was lying. Now that's not nice is it, because if he really didn't like the soup, he wouldn't keep eating. Right?
"Well, since it's that bad, I guess you don't want It then" I said, on my way to reach for the soup before he slapped my hands away.
"I, um, I have to eat even though it tastes really bad" he said, faking a disgusted face expression after the really bad part.
"Oh, is that so?" I l said, raising my brows
"Yes, how else am I going to gather my strength to leave"
I rolled my eyes at him, and a smirk appeared on my face again. "If you say so"
I cleaned up our plates when we were done, while he sat there, his eyes following my every move.
He was really intimidating, and I have a feeling that he's the type of person you'd rather not mess with.
I didn't want to judge too quickly though, if there something I learned from a young age, me being the biggest example was.. never judge a book, by its cover.
"How did you end up getting shot?" I blurted out, not sure if I really needed to know, what if he was a serial killer? Or a druggie? Or a rapist? Although death wasn't my biggest fear, I'd rather not relieve some things before it.
"Shit happens" He answered, short and simple, as if getting shot in an alley was just another daily thing.
"Stuff happens, getting shot in a dark alley is usually not stuff though" Was I being rude? I wasn't trying too, but I was curious about who I had laying down on my couch.
He looked at me for a couple of minutes, as if he was debating what he should say next.
"I found myself at the wrong place, in the wrong time" He said, I let out another breath I'd been keeping in for too long. He looked at me in confusion, probably wondering what kind of crazy person he's trapped with.
"Sorry, I'm just relieved" I said, excusing my reaction. "If it was wrong place, wrong time it means that you're not usually involved in that, which means I can cross serial killer off the list"
He let out a chuckle, a dark one. I'm pretty sure if a producer saw this guy, he would be casted as the hot evil character on the spot. Something with his aura screamed the role.
"What do you do then?" I asked, trying to make some small talk.
"Business" he answered, I noticed that he always gave short answers, like he didn't care to explain.
I should've understood that he worked in something like that, just by the Armani dress he was wearing earlier. Was.
My eyes shot up, and I noticed that he's been sitting shirtless the whole time. He was wearing the same bloody pants from earlier, but I had to cut his shirt open to do surgery, and his jacket was full of blood so I set it aside.
"Shit" I let out, standing up and rushing to my room to grab him something. He was probably too embarrassed to ask. God, how can I be smart enough to almost become a surgeon yet so stupid.
"Um, this is all I have that you can fit in" I said, rushing back with an oversized hoodie and some basketball shorts I found in my closet.
"Boyfriend?" He spoke in a low tone, I didn't get it at first but then I saw him glaring at the clothes.
"Oh, no not at all" I blurted, then it hit me that I sounded like such a loser.
"Um, oversized hoodies are a must for winter, and men's shorts are way more comfortable to sleep in then woman's"
I earned a look of approval, and he grabbed the clothes from my hand. I expected him to go to the bathroom or bedroom, but when he started unbuttoning his pants my eyes widened and I turned around, talk about not being shy.
"How old are you? twelve?" He laughed, at what I'd assume was my reacting. "Excuse me, it's called not being a creep, have you heard of that?" I shot back, shocked over how that sentence came out of my mouth. Usually I was the polite type, not the let people walk over you polite, but also not the throw sassy comments to a guy you've barely known for a couple of hours.
"You can turn around now, ángel" He called me angel again, which officially makes it a nickname. I wanted to ask him why, but I didn't want him to stop, not when its the first nickname ive ever gotten.
I turned around, and started laughing at how tight the shorts were. The hoodie was perfect for him, but the shorts looked like they were two sizes too small. "Its not funny" He shot, at my reaction but I couldn't stop laughing, and I could see him fighting a small smile. "It is"
He sat down again, but he was much closer now, dangerously close. I tried to move a little, without making it obvious. I didn't want him to feel bad, or think that he did something wrong, but I really didn't like being close to someone, or being touched at all. I don't think I was as careful as I thought though, based on his expression, he understood what I was doing.
"If you want to take a shower to wash off the rest of the blood, you can" I said, breaking eye contact. I should've said it before he changed, but my mind was all over the place right now.
"It'll relax your body too" I added, I wasn't sure if he was going to want too or not, based on how guarded he was, taking a shower in a strangers house was probably not on top of his list.
He nodded his head, surprisingly taking the offer and started making his way to the bathroom, slowly but surely.
"When you're done, we can pick out a movie, I'll get some snacks" I said, there wasn't really much else to do. I had taken a couple days off of work (which my boss surely wasn't happy about) to take care of mr. stranger and therefor I had nothing else to do than sit here and make sure he was doing well. Or at least breathing.
"I dont watch movies" He answered bluntly, taking slow steps towards the bathroom
"Would you rather sit and listen to me talk all day then?" I smiled back.
"Movie it is then" He replied, causing me to roll my eyes and smile at the same time.
He took off the hoodie right before entering the bathroom, giving me a mere of three seconds to notice the big dragon tattoo on his back.
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what do you guys think so far?? Do you like the story? -YALW