"Am I doing this right?" I can't do anything but stare at Zander in amazement; with the right palm of my hand against my forehead and my lips firmly pressed together. I wish I could give the poor guy some reassurance; I have never in my life, come across a person who didn't know how to make a fruit salad.
Looking down at the bowl with a frown, his eyes glance at me worriedly, "shouldn't I add mayonnaise?"
Alarmed, my eyes widen from the horror of such a suggestion. "It's a fruit salad not potato salad!"
"But if mayonnaise can be added in potato salad why not fruit salad?"
Shaking my head vehemently, I do my best to dissuade him with dramatic hand gestures. "There are rules and boundaries to everything, especially food. Don't you dare apply that sense of logic to everything you hear me?"
"But it's – "
Entering the kitchen, Patrick glares at Zander's salad with disgust, "Dog food bro."
"Shut the hell up Pat!"
"Hey, I call it what it is. And are those supposed to be apple slices? These apples look like they were hacked by an army knife."
Crossing his arms defensively, Zander takes a threatening step towards Patrick and all I can think of is Patrick's poor life coming to an end as the knife in Zander's hand gleams as light streams in through the window. "You blind or something?" Zander asked, menacingly.
Narrowing his eyes, the taunting expression on Patrick's face doesn't slide off before bleating, "More like haphazardly cut blocks...that doesn't even look edible."
Now I'm really scared, wedging myself between the two of them, my eyes never leave the knife as I try pushing Zander back. "Okay whoa guys, no need to fight over cut fruit."
"He started it!" They yell simultaneously, glaring at one another.
"Hey, I happen to be proud of my fruit chopping. Don't mock me!" Waving the knife around, both Patrick and I step back nervously. Gulping involuntarily, I chicken out and move to stand behind Patrick, using him as a human shield. "Like I said guys, could you not fight?"
"Look what you did idiot, now she's scared!" Patrick chides, craning his head like some smug bird.
Peering over the side of Patrick's arm, I can't help but heave a sigh of relief as Zander finally places the knife down. "Actually I'm – " My words get cut off by Patrick's hand resting against my shoulder.
"Trust me, there's nothing I can do that could hurt her more than eating fruit salad containing mayonnaise." Whipping his head around to look at Zander with an evil grin, my eyes travel to Zander who silently grabs the knife once again.
"Says the guy who thought putting ketchup on pancakes was a smart idea."
"Listen, the aesthetic appeal it had was pretty awesome."
"Guys...?"
"Yeah?" Responding like twins once again, I blink once before stepping back to give myself room to make a run for the door if necessary. "You're not normal. Not normal at all so please, listen to the normal person in the room and forget mayonnaise or ketchup." Making subtle gagging noises at the thought of ketchup pancakes, my mind trying to imagine red pancakes and ultimately censoring it out.
They both decide to put an end to their petty argument, harrumphing at each other like middle aged women fighting over who gets the last brand named hand bag.
"What about – "
"The answer is still no. You're trying to feed your family right? Then please, just follow my specific instructions." I state matter-of-factly, receiving a forced smile and salute in response from Zander.
Narrowing my eyes, I point silently at the chopping board and refuse to succumb to his pleading gaze – He's clearly trying to get me to do all the chopping but all I can think about is the doorbell ringing and the First Lady walking through the front door and giving me a look – a look that analyses me from head to toe, demanding I explain my presence in her son's apartment. Remembering our first encounter at the pool makes my spine go stiff, I don't know why she makes me so nervous but there's just something about her that makes me feel so little.
Sighing, Zander starts his horrendous chopping and I'm brought back to reality at the sound of it, the knife creating abstract marks on the chopping board. Patrick however, walks over to the farthest corner of the kitchen eyeing Zander with pity, " I feel sorry for Mrs. N and little Sis."
"Shut up Pat!"
"You can hear me?"
"You weren't exactly whispering."
"Oh. Oh well." Shrugging, he smirks while I stare at him in disbelief. His unapologetic tone scaring me; is this really Patrick? Nice guy?
"Did you guys breakup?" I ask suddenly, their faces contorting in disgust.
"What?" They chimed, affronted by my remark.
"No, he just stole my favourite video game and had the nerve to tell Ronda down the hall that I have a thing for her. Ronda! She's old enough to be my grandma, Cat!" Drawls out Patrick, his face laden with horror as Zander chokes on his own laughter in the kitchen.
I'm about to ask Patrick questions about this Ronda for business purposes when my nose catches a whiff of something scorching, "Wait! What's that smell?"
With dread I watch smoke rise and slink its way towards me from the oven, making my heart pound in my chest. NOT THE CHICKEN!
"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!"I shriek, alarmed by the smoke engulfing the kitchen.
Pulling the oven door down, the three of us get hit with a spray of black smoke but what makes my skin crawl is the sight of a chicken that's been overkilled and overcooked. Black charred remains are the only things left on the ceramic pan.
Glancing at Zander, Patrick merely states the obvious, "I think you just cremated the chicken bro."
"You said 700 degrees Celsius right?"
Shaking my head in disbelief, I scoff twice before responding in a shrill voice, "700? WHEN DID I SAY THAT?" And how the heck did he manage to possess an oven that reached such an extreme temperature?
Shaking his head in disapproval, Patrick walks off to the kitchen window opening it to let in a cold gust of wind as the fire alarm begins to blare, "Leave Zander alone in a kitchen unsupervised and this is what you get."
Sending Patrick a black look, Zander throws in a few of his haphazardly chopped fruits into the salad bowl placed on the counter, "Unsupervised? Cat was here the whole time."
"Are you suggesting this is my fault?" I ask bitterly, grabbing a dishtowel to wave it back and forth while standing directly underneath the fire alarm. The stupid thing wouldn't shut up and my ears were beginning to ring.
"You could have glanced at the oven to see if the temperature was set right...so yeah I am."
The fire alarm goes mute and I fling the dishtowel at Zander's chest before turning to Patrick with an expressionless face, "Patrick, I think we should leave," I urge faintly, coming to the conclusion that Zander was a lost cause.
Patrick's eyes light up, briskly walking towards me, nodding once before Zander could sense anything was up, "Yes! You know I don't think we've bonded before, just the two of us that is. I could really go for some fried chicken and..."
Interrupting Patrick's agenda for the evening, Zander's eyes look down at me questioningly, "Wait, you guys are leaving me?"
"Yes." I declare loudly, grabbing my recipe-book and heading towards the door.
I really hope I'm selling this act...
Placing a firm hand against Zander's shoulder, Patrick decides to provoke him further, "Congrats, you've selected the correct answer."
The hurt on his face is so visible my heart jerks slightly, "Why?" he asks, his question directed at me. Gulping, my eyes shift towards the door.
Sensing my discomfort, Patrick slings a lazy arm around my shoulders for support, "We'll leave the charred chicken to you, tell your Mom I said hi."
"But...Cat!"
His mild hysterical plea forms a knot in my chest but I bite my inner cheek and whirl around to face him, "That's not my name!"
Whistling, Patrick nods in my direction as I stumble in the darkened entrance, trying to locate my bag and cellphone lying on a table nearby.
"I don't think I've ever seen her this mad before, you really got her upset this time," Patrick hissed, grinning.
"Yeah but why is she always mad at me and not you? I thought I was closer to her."
"Sometimes it's the people who you're closest to that you get the most upset at. But this is a new side of Cat...I like."
"Pat. Don't."
"I'm kidding, relax, and there's nothing – "
Feeling the colour in my cheeks rising, I can't help but glare at both of them, "I'm not deaf you know! I can hear you perfectly well! You coming Patrick?"
"Er, yeah let me just grab my wallet and phone, and call to get some food delivered."
Nodding in silent agreement, Patrick walks off and I'm left alone with a sulky Zander staring at me with an intensity that could create large and infinite black holes right through me.
Clearing his throat with scrunched eyebrows, he rubs the back of his neck before risking a brief look at me, "Catherine..."
What the heck is this? Where did this tone come from? Alarmed, I take a cautious step closer towards the door while glancing frantically from left to right.
"Wah-what?" Closing my eyes quickly, I curse inwardly at my stammering as my heart rate begins to accelerate.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
My back facing him, my eyes begin to tear from one corner of the door to the other. I could feel his eyes on me now. I knew this was a bad idea. "I didn't do anything, you're doing this to yourself."
"Fine. I won't argue with you. Are you coming over for dinner at least?" Biting my lip, I sense him move around and sure enough, he was now standing in front of me with a look that might haunt me tonight. He seemed conflicted, as if raking his brain to find a reason for my cold attitude towards him.
Still not meeting his eyes, I settle to stare at the doorknob, "Um...I don't think – "
"I'm not taking no for an answer."
Wincing at his firm tone, I finally meet his eyes, "But – "
"You're coming over."
Not responding, an awkward pause settles between us before Zander frowns and places a light hand on my shoulder, "Please?"
"Okay fine, I'll come back with Patrick by seven."
"Thanks, this means a lot to me. Well, since you guys are abandoning me in my time of need, I guess I'll have to change into a disguise and head to the grocery store. Actually, that might not be such a bad idea – I can cross it off of my list of 'normal' things to do."
"That's a little odd, usually most people write down adventurous things on a bucket list," I pointed out, amused by his excitement over such a trivial thing.
Although our friendship is still new and at its 'blossoming' stage, I haven't gotten accustomed to Zander's status or his lifestyle. He seems like a normal...or almost normal guy within the confines of the apartment complex but once he steps outside or offers to tell me about his life outside the comfort of the apartment walls, he's seen as someone else entirely.
"What are you thinking about?" Blinking twice, I nearly keel over backwards and pass out from how close his face is to mine. When did he even get this close is beyond my capacity to comprehend but my flailing arms and rising body temperature create an irritatingly smug smile on his face.
"Whoa there, didn't mean to catch you off guard."
Yelping, my eyes widen, "But you clearly did want that! And whatever happened to personal space huh?"
"That doesn't exist between us, and yeah so maybe I did want to invade your personal space just a little bit but you suddenly had this look of a person who was deep in thought."
Rolling my eyes at his dramatic analogy, I step back to give myself some breathing room, "It's nothing."
Patrick suddenly strides into the room to stand next to me,"I'm back! Miss me? Did ya miss me?"
Narrowing his eyes as Patrick's arm slings over my shoulder again, Zander sends him another one his black looks, "You must be starving Pat since you're this annoying."
Returning Zander's look with a glacial one of his own, Patrick's voice seems to have turned from jovial to hostile within a span of a few seconds, "Shut up! I was trying to be cute for Cat. Anyways, have fun prepping for what I'm sure is going to turn out as an unforgettable evening with the dominating women in your family."
"My grandma isn't coming over though." Zander's steely answer amusing Patrick immensely, his face breaking into a grin before shaking with laughter.
My eyebrows shoot up at this remark, filing that bit of information for his file, I can't help the small smile that forms on my face; it was hard to dig up information on grandparents, the rich kept details locked up in maximum security; Grandparents were a delicate subject for some reason.
"Oh...right. Right. Now that's a personality that'll make any dinner feel like – "
"Patrick I think we should go, I called Celia a couple of hours ago to meet me in ten minutes. She should be – " Before I can even get my words out, he flings the door open and rushes past me in the direction of my apartment. Well someone is clearly whipped.
Shaking his head in disapproval, Zander waves goodbye and I walk towards an annoyed Celia. Noticing my presence, she glances at me worriedly and I merely shrug; Patrick was in on our plan whether she liked it or not or rather, he decided to form one of his own.
"Why is he here?" She asks coldly, glaring up at the grinning fool.
Rolling my eyes, I shrug my shoulders, "Because he loves you and can't get enough of you."
Touched, Patrick places a hand mockingly against his chest, "I could hug you Catherine, you put any wingman to shame."
"Thanks." Not mentioning that I could in fact put them to shame because I'm more qualified due to my profession.
"But this makes things complicated Cat!" Celia hisses, trying to dodge Patrick's outstretched arms, signalling for a hug.
"Patrick is actually going to help out with making dinner for Zander's family."
"I thought you went over to his place for that exact purpose, why did you leave then?"
"We made a bet. I told Catherine here that Zander was a terrible cook and figured we should give him a hard time while actually making dinner ourselves. He'll not only panic and slave away in a kitchen, but the entire place might just burn down in flames as well."
Confusion mars her face, "So you were helping him, then quit, but you're actually still helping him. Am I getting this right? Okay but why? And you just placed the lives of every resident in the building in danger."
Grinning even wider than before, Patrick saunters off into my kitchen, somehow locating an apron, "It'll annoy him more and besides if Catherine is involved, he can't do anything about it." Waving his hand in a dismissive motion, he ties the apron, looking absolutely ridiculous, as it was too small for his broad frame.
Biting back a laugh, I shake my head baffled by what I got myself into, "I think you're giving me way to much credit here. Regardless, I hope you can read a recipe-book Patrick, because I'm leaving you unsupervised in the kitchen."
Rubbing his hands mischievously, he offers me wink before saluting, "Yes Ma'am!"
I make a grand display of passing the recipe-book and Patrick takes it with a solemn expression and marches into the kitchen like a man on a mission.
Glancing at me nervously, Celia presses her lips into a firm line before furrowing her eyebrows. "I honestly don't understand this bet you two made."
"Neither do I, we didn't even bet on anything but Patrick really wanted to walk out on Zander only to surprise him in the end." I conclude uncertainly.
Not comprehending she frowns in confusion, "What?"
"Nothing. Anyways, it gave me a good excuse to leave early to meet up with you so let's get down to work. We only have two hours before the First Lady arrives and we need to go over all our notes. I was thinking of recording our conversation but that might get me arrested in the future if she ever finds out and I can't physically take notes in front of her. I've memorised all the basic questions I need to get information on but it won't be easy."
"You'll be fine," Celia assured, with a wave of her hand.
Her reassuring smile does nothing to ease my anxiety. After several hours on the phone last night, we devised a plan to add to Zander's profile. A chance encounter with his family would provide plenty of subsequent information that could help in the matchmaking process. I also feel slightly guilty for having ill intentions since Zander wanted me over as a friend, and not a prying Matchmaker who only wants to see him married off in the future, as a customer to gather data from.
I feel my shoulders slump as the gravity of the situation weighs down on me once more. My friendship with Zander has sparked this need to resolve his issue with 'Club girl' or as Celia calls her, 'Suspect A' and see him happily in a relationship of his own. I'd only look for someone who fit the bill but that might be to relieve myself of the guilt I feel.
"Don't worry so much Cat, I don't think he'll hold it against you later on."
Scoffing lightly I give her a sad smile, "I would if I was in his position."
"But didn't he want to look for the Matchmaker to resolve his issues and gain press coverage in the first place?"
"Yeah but he seems to be half-hearted about it, I think he's actually given up." For the past several days, Zander barely mentions the Matchmaker to my relief and regret. I feel relieved not to have to be so cautious around him, the very word 'Matchmaker' sending me in a panic but his lack of enthusiasm to find the Matchmaker seems to have disappeared...but why?
"So then just imagine how glad he'll be once he finds out that it's you."
Glancing at her nervously I shake my head, my thoughts in a jumble, "I don't know Celia..."
"Actually Cat, thinking about it now, I haven't read a single thing online or in the tabloids about Zander's slip-up."
"What do you expect? He's the President's son! Of course they'll conceal things. They can afford to keep the press silent."
"But the online tabloids and community? I don't know Cat, something's off. Has Zander even mentioned this girl in detail to you? I know for a fact that you can't keep everyone on social media quiet. Whether you're the President's son or not."
Shaking my head, I respond solemnly, "We just became friends, so of course not. I'd also rather discuss such things once he realises I'm the Matchmaker, not as a friend at this stage."
"Okay, I won't pressure you then since I can understand that kind of work ethic. But cheer up! You two will be okay, I really don't think he'd be mad."
But what I can't tell her are all the things Zander's confided in me; he's been honest about how he feels about his status and his glamourised life, not being able to do the things normal every day people can. All these things he's told me, he's told to a friend. Not a Matchmaker.
How can I possibly even write such things down in his profile? It makes me feel sick to my stomach, was I like all those people who want to get close to him for their own personal interests? I can't do that to him, not even as someone who's just become his friend and could easily brush him off and walk away – keeping things 'professional' for lack of a better word. With my own past, I can't devalue our friendship even for my career and survival.
Analysing my face intently, Celia's voice brings me back to my living room, "Whoa, you're really agonising over this Cat, aren't you?"
Exhaling a frustrated sigh I give her a despondent look, "I can't keep hiding this Celia. I mean it."
"Okay, well if you're ready to tell him the truth then I'll be there supporting you...but if he even dares to get mad at you I'll kick him in the balls and drag you away from the likes of him. Okay?" Pausing to stick a pointed finger at me, she raises one of her eyebrows, "And I mean it Cat. I never want to see my best friend have a breakdown or any fears because of someone else."
Taking her word for it, I nod gratefully, "I'll tell him in a few days, I think if I gather information tonight and write it up to add to his profile I can show it to him. At least he'll see that I haven't violated his trust by including anything else other than any information vital for matchmaking. As someone who struggles to trust people I need to prove it to him."
"I'm so proud of you Kitty-Kat."
The serious atmosphere around us dissipates as my mouth forms into a scowl, a sour expression on my face, "Ugh. Don't ever call me that!"
Her lips curl into a sly smile but before she can offer a plausible excuse to call me such a disgusting pet name, Patrick walks back into the room with flour and sauce stains sullying the apron. "Call you what?"
"You're already done Patrick?" I ask quickly, changing the subject as my cheeks were colouring from embarrassment. I can't afford to have either him or Zander hear that name.
"Yeah, I followed the recipes strictly, exact measurements so they should come out fine...and don't worry the temperatures are all set according to the book."
Jumping to stand, Celia claps her hands excitedly turning to face me with an unreadable gleam in her eyes, "Well since food is taken care of, I guess I can dress you up now."
My eyes widen in shock, "What?"
Horrified, she crosses her arms defiantly, "C'mon do you seriously think you're going to meet Zander's family in that?" I was wearing a massive knitted, red turtleneck sweater and a pair of loose grey trousers with thick socks.
She's right but I didn't want to play dress-up or admit defeat, "His mother has seen me in worse." I declare frostily, already cowering at the look she was giving me.
"Which is exactly why you can't show up like that!"
Amused, Patrick decides to provoke me, his smile turning sinister, "Ooouu makeovers! Do I get one too?" His amusement earns him a glare, as I start tapping an impatient foot.
Taking his teasing seriously, Celia appraises his clothing, tapping a finger against her chin, "All you need to do is change your shirt and you're fine."
"Are you saying he looks better than me?" I ask in disbelief, my sense of female pride wounded.
"He's far more appropriately dressed and presentable."
Aware of the dangerous tension growing between us, Patrick backs away slowly whipping his head back and forth between Celia and me, "Well since you don't need me anymore, I'm just going to take a nap. Make sure to wow me once you're done Catherine."
"I didn't know I was here to please you Patrick." Is my acidic reply, my eyes never leaving Celia's unwavering ones.
"Nice one. No wonder why Zander likes you, you got sass."
Shifting my gaze to look at him, a frown forms on my face, "I really don't, you guys are just too easy to make fun of." Really, I was a coward and weak, the sass was all in their imagination.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." And with those final words, he grabs a pillow and shuts his eyes, snoring after a few minutes.
How he even manages to sleep with two other people in the room is an amazing feat. He was a little too comfortable around us, and this realisation gives Celia an opportunity to hook her arm around mine, "C'mon Cat! We don't have much time." Dragging me into my room, Celia gives me a disapproving nod before dramatically opening my closet and pulling out a hanger with a dress I've never seen before."
"Um, that's not mine."
"I know, I bought it for you."
Feeling none too grateful, my eyes narrow, "You did? When? Why?"
Shrugging, she resumes her desperate search through my closet, "I had a feeling something like this would happen so I picked out an entire outfit for you a few days ago."
"I don't know if I should hug you or strangle you."
"You'll look great in it Cat!"
"Isn't it all too much? I feel like I'm trying too hard as a friend with a dress like that." I state critically, emphasising the word 'friend' hoping she would understands my apprehension.
"Cat, this is perfectly normal and casual! You think people who wear clothing worth thousands of dollars would think this is dressing up?" She makes a swooping motion, my eyes following her hand as I take in the dress.
"I guess you're right."
"Go take a shower already! I turned up the heater earlier, and good thing to otherwise Patrick would have noticed. Now that it's warm in here you can take a nice shower and air-dry your hair without worrying about catching a cold."
Sighing, I give the dress one last glance before trudging into the bathroom, towel in hand. I emerge from a steamy twenty-minute shower and walk back into my room with a white bathrobe on and wet hair sticking to my face. Hearing me enter, Celia rolls off my bed and points to a chair, her lips twitching into a smile.
"Is this really necessary?" I ask one last time, a feeble attempt to dissuade her out of this makeup session. Although I might be overreacting I still think dressing up is too over-the-top, especially for someone like me. I'd only feel uncomfortable and embarrassed because of all the effort taken into presenting myself. And God knows I don't want Zander to think it's because of him...
Scrunching eyebrows at this last thought, I take a moment to wonder why I would even think or assume that Zander would entertain such thoughts about me. Of course he'd expect his friend to look decent and presentable in front of his family! There could be nothing else beyond that.
"Yes it's necessary."
"You're the worst." I mumble under my breath, avoiding her piercing gaze and clearing my head of muddled thoughts.
To my surprise, she's true to her word and finishes within ten minutes. Handing over the dress, I enter the bathroom once more and try it on. Somehow, Celia's picked the correct size and instead of being too formal it fits perfectly, hugging me in all the right places.
Presenting myself to Celia, she motions for me to twirl and I do so to her amusement, "See! It's perfect!"
Begrudgingly, I return her smile, "Yea, Yeah. Whatever. Am I done now?"
"No, we need to give a small side braid and get rid of those glasses. I'm not going to mince my words, they're ugly Cat."
Throwing a pillow at her, it hits her square in the face and I smirk triumphantly before walking over to the little container she's placed; I'm being forced to wear contacts once again.
"Your eyes are beautiful, I don't know why you hide behind those."
"I have no one to stare at."
"You do now!"
Rolling my eyes, I can't help but give her a sardonic reply, "Who? When you see a mythical god or fictional character, holler."
"Do I have to spell it out for you? Forget it! Wear those shoes and we're done. I don't know why I have such an ungrateful friend?"
"Sorry, I still love you. I just don't know why you bother with me?" Shoving me playfully, we stride into the living room with linked arms to find Patrick still asleep. Silently pointing to the kitchen, we both start to pull out trays and peel off plastic wrap from bowls.
"SERIOUSLY?" Flinching, I drop the sheet of plastic wrap in my hand and glance up to see a seething Patrick.
"You're going to snoop around and judge the food I made without waking me up?"
"I..."
"Not cool – " Finally looking down at me his eyes widen with unconcealed shock, "Wow, you seriously clean up nice, Catherine."
"Um, thanks." I mumble out, tugging down the hem of the dress feeling intensely nervous.
Snorting, Celia throws her hands up in the air, "All thanks to me and my efforts."
Clapping, Patrick nods approvingly before giving her a thumbs-up and I can't help the blush that spreads across my cheeks. Damn it! I hate receiving this kind of attention! Catching Celia's eye, she gives me a, "see I told you so," look before her features soften into a smile.
Shaking her head, she turns around and heads to the door, grabbing her bag and keys before turning to face us, "Well everything seems to be in order, I guess I should be heading home now. You two have fun...and behave."
Rolling my eyes, I meet Patrick's amused gaze and we both turn to Celia in unison, "Yes, Mom!"
"Whatever brats. See you later Cat!" Waving, she shuts the door behind her, the apartment becoming still.
"Now what?" I ask anxiously, not sure of what to do with myself.
"Now we go surprise a very sad Zander Nolan. By the way, don't be surprised if he gets a little speechless."
"Speechless? Why?"
Looking at me from head to toe, Patrick offers me an impish smile as if he were aware of an obvious secret. "Mmmm, I could tell you the reason why but I think it's better to let things play out on their own and let nature take its course."
Not understanding his cryptic reply, I shake my head feeling utterly clueless, "Er...Okay."
Grabbing the prepared food, we leave the apartment and knock on Zander's door hoping to catch him with a sullen expression as he answers the door but what happens next almost makes me drop the bowls of food in my hand.
Instead of Zander's depressed face, a grinning teenage girl yanks the door open glancing between Patrick and me before flinging her arms around my neck. "You must be Catherine! I can't believe I finally get to meet you!" Squeaking in delight, she lets go of my now sore neck before grabbing the containers of Tupperware in my hand and shoves them into Patrick's chest.
"Hey!" Wobbling, back and forth my eyes widen as a tower of containers were now stacked high against Patrick's chest, the lower half of his face no longer visible. Biting my lip in concern, the animated female continues her chattering without glancing at Patrick, "I seriously can't believe I get to meet you! And you're so pretty!"
"Um..." Is my only unintelligible reply, her eyes boring into me, fascinated.
"Gwen." Hearing the sound of Zander's voice behind her, I heave a sigh of relief.
Turning towards Zander, she waves him aside not noticing the scowl on his face, "But Zan I wanted to met her so badly!"
"Gwen Nolan, you let go of our guest and let the poor girl enter the room." Stiffening at the sound of a different voice floating through into the hall, my eyes search the apartment through the half opened door landing on a slender figure occupying the couch.
The First Lady.