Catherine

I vow to never make any form of physical contact with things that would give me headaches ever again.

As much as I wanted the emotional frustrations out last night, the aftermath wasn't even worth it.

I got up, groaning as my brain decided to go for a roller coaster ride without a seatbelt on. I knew I wasn't going to throw up, but it felt like a had a lump in my throat, and I have no idea on how to get rid of it.

Grabbing a cotton shirt, I slowly made my way to the bathroom.

I lived alone. And I make sure everything is locked before I close my eyes at night. I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night with somebody trying to rob me. And nobody. And I mean nobody was to see my ladybug underwear set.

Putting on one of my many university t-shirts, I yawned. It felt like I jus t blinked, when in reality, I slept half the day away.

Facing the bathroom sink, I groaned. My hair was a mess. As much as I liked it long, it was too time consuming. Maybe I'll get it cut short on my way to meeting a couple of people later.

I was just made editor two months ago. I started off answering phone calls while I was studying and worked my way up. I knew my dad did a little bit of Wright magic. No way am I going to be promoted in a snap if it wasn't for him.

Knowing my dad, it was impossible to say no. And at that time, it was making his not-so-little-girl editor in a company he owned shares.

It was unfair and it made me mad. I went straight to the big guy to take back my so-called 'promotion' but he gave me the reason that since I was the youngest among the bunch, I was perfect for the romance department. According to him, they had to know which novel made hearts flutter.

I almost gagged. Of all people, why me? I was awkward, only had three relationships that didn't even last long enough to be called relationships, and was the least sociable.

But among the group of people there, I was the most optimistic. Sure I said something about not believing in happy, riding towards the sunset endings.

That wasn't for me. But that doesn't mean it wasn't meant for other people. The editors now just wanted to publish books that could make money first. Then make hearts flutter later.

I was okay working at my department. Besides, I've read Fifty Shades before, and having mature scenes on romance novels was sort of normal for me now. Okay, so that isn't exactly advisable.

I have read about how it would feel like. That if the man you love touches you, you'll feel the tingles.

Glen tried touching me before, intimately; his hand on my thigh as he gradually attempted to move it further north during a dinner date, and well-no tingles.

I'm not being miss goody two shoes but I was saving myself for someone.

...

Okay so I am a little bit of a miss goody two shoes. It doesn't bother me that I'm untouched at twenty-four. I was somewhat proud of it, but not exactly something I'd flaunt when my co-workers start talking about bedroom escapades.

The sound of my stomach growling made me take out my toothbrush. I remember having a chocolate bar before downing half of the wine, so that wasn't a shocker.

After brushing my teeth, I stepped out of the bathroom and went straight to my living room. Picking up the DVD player's remote, I turned it on. After half a minute, music boomed from the speakers.

My neighbors didn't mind me playing loud music plainly because my apartment was at the very end of the third floor. And it had thick walls, it was basically soundproof. The only thin wall was between my bedroom, and the other bedroom.

I live alone, but when I leased the apartment, (actually my dad insisted that he'd buy it for me but I stood my ground and said no. He insisted. So now I'm paying him little by little) I was thinking that maybe when I do have visitors, they'll have a place to stay instead of my couch. So far it was only Audrey occupying the room, occasionally.

When she was too drunk to drive.

I was dancing my way to the kitchen, occasionally closing my eyes and shaking my hips, while singing 'Got the cool, I got the cool shoeshine' from 19-2000 when I heard someone chuckle.

Did I mention that I live alone?

Opening my eyes, I saw a figure of someone bending over my small fridge.

"Who... How did you get in here?" My voice broke, and even I could tell how scared I was. I started walking sideways, hoping that he wouldn't notice that I was making my way to the knife set at the counter.

My important things are still here so I don't think he's stealing. And it looked like he's been here for a while so it isn't me that he's interested in.

The man straightened up, looking at the apple that he was holding.

If it was physically possible for my jaw to drop, it would have.

While he was searching through my fridge, I had a nice view of his er...bottom. His jeans were hanging low on his hips and , and I just realized that he was shirtless. His back was really nice. I liked looking at backs. Rose, a beautiful redhead from work told me it might be a fetish of mine. I turned as red as Rose' hair then.

Catherine Wright does not have any fetish.

My hand finally made contact with a knife handle and I mustered enough courage to talk.

"You're a food thief."

Well. Okay. Great job Catherine.

I should be threatening him. Not point out the obvious.

The man was a lot taller than me. Bigger, too. But I had a knife, and he was made of flesh that can be easily injured by a knife.

And a couple of hard muscles.

The food thief slowly started facing me, and I brought the knife in front of me just in case he got any bad ideas inside his food thief head.

And as if my eyes weren't wide enough, I stared at him. Like he had an extra nose.

I know him!

Well not by name. But he...he was the man from last night.
His raven black hair was still a mess. Now I have the chance to really look at him. His skin color reminded me of the color sample my mom showed me during the renovation of her restaurant. What was it again? Ah, yes. Wheat.

"Are you some crazy stalker?!" It's taking me a lot of courage not to pee myself at the moment.

He was the same man who almost killed me last night, and he's now in my kitchen, half-naked, and stealing my food.

---------
Damon

I raised an eyebrow as I regarded the small woman in front of me.

"You're funny."

The woman was eyeing me like I just murdered someone. I took a step forward, and she took a step back. We kept doing that until her bum apparently bumped against the oven.

It was fear that I saw in her eyes before she closed them, and pointed her weapon at my face.

It started with a chuckle, that soon developed into full-on laughter as I took her weapon from her hands.

"Thank you. Well that's one way of welcoming your roommate."

I started peeling the apple I took from her fridge with the peeler she so kindly offered me.

The woman was delusional to think a peeler would scare me, much more intimidate me.

One eye opened to take a look on what I was doing before she looked down at her now empty hands.

"Room what?"

Slicing a small piece from the apple, I took my time on chewing and swallowing before I replied.

"I'm moving in Bambi." To be honest, I was half-expecting her to blush, just like a good girl would.

"Bambi's a boy." She was looking at me with this confused expression on her face and was a bit annoyed on how I can't tease her if she ever did blush.

I pretended to be shocked.

"You're not a lesbian? I mean, I don't mind if you are." I walked over one of the kitchen stools, and placed half of the apple on a plate that I got earlier.

She looked annoyed and it was enough encouragement for me to annoy her some more. She really reminded me of a baby deer; innocent and wide-eyed.

I highly doubt teasing her by calling her Bambi would work anymore.

I frowned.

Not really a nice pet name. I think bonny's more appropriate.

"No. I'm not a lesbian. How'd you even get in here? What do you mean by roommate? What exactly are you doing here?"

I stood up and put my hands in my pockets, grinning.

"I opened the door. Roommate. I'd share this apartment with you but not your room, of course unless you wanted me to. And like any human being, I need shelter. So here I am." I spread my arms, gesturing the whole kitchen. Not much. It was either far too small or I'm too big.

She eyed me. I know she's smart enough to know that I did give the right answers. I could almost see the gears in her brain working, formulating a question for me. Anything to make me feel uncomfortable.

She looked up at me and I waited for the question she's about to dish out.

"Who are you...?"

Attempting to copy how a proper gentleman greeted a lady back in the day, I bowed.

"Well that's easy. My name's Damon Grace. Grace being my surname. Don't ask. And I, "I placed a hand on my chest and gave her a smile that I hoped would get her mind off what I'm going to say next.

"am your answered prayer."

Her eyes widened and she started gripping the ends of her shirt.

Well what do we have here? A glimpse of polka dots.

"A-Answered prayer?" Her face was starting to turn beet red.

I know that she knows what I'm talking about.

"I'm the distraction."

The moment she took a sharp intake of breath, I knew that she remembered making the request.

Of course she knows what I'm talking about.

✂-----------------------------------------------------

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