6 -In my feelings - (1/2)
Sarah's P.O.V
He walk like 1mile away from were I sat eating, .
He came back like 2minutes after his phone conversation.
”Do people always do what you tell them?”
”Usually, if they want to keep their jobs,” he says, deadpan.
”And if they don't work for you?”
”Oh, I can be very persuasive, Sarah. You should finish your breakfast. And then I'll drop you home. I'll pick you up at Lindsey's at eight- fifty when you finish. We'll fly up to Cali.”
I blink at him rapidly.
”Fly?”
”Yes. I have a helicopter and a private boarding airplane.”
I gape at him. I have my second date with Jonathan Christopher who turned to Jace the-so-mysterious Alicanté . From coffee to helicopter rides. Wow.
”We'll go by airplane to San Francisco (California) ?”
”Yes.”
”Why?”
He grins wickedly.
”Because I can. Finish your breakfast.”
How can I eat now? I'm going to San Francisco by Airplane, because I choosed airplane not Helicopter, because we'll be parking and traveling on plan. with Jace Alicanté and Izzy . And he wants to bite my lip… I squirm at the thought
”Eat,” he says more sharply. ”Sarah, I have an issue with wasted food… eat.”
”I can't eat all this.” I gape at what's left on the table.
”Eat what's on your plate. If you'd eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be declaring my hand so soon.” His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.
I frown and return to my now cold food. I'm too excited to eat, Jace . Don't you understand? My subconscious explains. But I'm too much of a coward to voice these thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen. Hmm, like a small boy. I find the thought amusing.
”What's so funny?” he asks. I shake my head, not daring tell him and keep my eyes on my food. Swallowing my last piece of pancake, I peek up at him. He's eyeing me speculatively.
”Good girl,” he says. ”I'll take you home when you've dried your hair. I don't want you getting ill.” There's some kind of unspoken promise in his words. What does he mean? I leave the table, wondering for a moment if I should ask permission but dismissing the idea. Sounds like a dangerous precedent to set. I head back to his bedroom. A thought stops me.
”Where did you sleep last night?” I turn to gaze at him still sitting in the dining room chair. I can't see any blankets or sheets out here – perhaps he's had them tidied away.
”In my bed,” he says simply, his gaze impassive again.
”Oh.”
”Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too.” He smiles.
”Not having… sex.” There – I said the word. I blush – of course.
”No,” he shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. ”Sleeping with someone.” He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.