His eyes drop to my mouth before meeting mine again. I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone dry.
“Autumn Freeman,” I tell him, and our eyes lock as his fingers wrap around mine. He walks towards me, sticking out his hand. Every time he looks at me, I feel like he sees way too much. “Sure.” I nod, my insides twisting under his gaze. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before our eyes meet again. Something about that look makes me feel better, but I finish with, “If you think that’s going to be a problem, I can find somewhere else to stay until I can go home.” I inhale deeply before letting out a breath, noticing that his eyes seem to have gone softer.
I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but it doesn’t give you the right to talk shit to me whenever you feel like it.” “I don’t appreciate you saying things to me about my job, my free time, or my eating habits.
“Okay”-I turn my face to look at him-“I don’t know what’s wrong with the filter that goes from your brain to your mouth, and honestly, I really don’t care.” I turn around to face him completely. I take a breath and blow it out slowly, counting in my head from one to ten. “I did eat,” I tell him, pulling down two plates before getting two sets of silverware out of the drawer and setting them on the counter with a little too much force. I turn to look at him and feel my temper spike. “You really should eat more,” he mumbles. As soon as he has the oven open, the smell of baked chicken hits me, making my stomach growl again. “Will you get out a couple plates?” he asks, going to the oven. I turn, walk down the stairs, and follow him into the kitchen. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to f**k off, but sadly, my manners are ingrained in me. I think it’s only right that we get to know at least a little about each other.” “Will you stop for a second?” He lets out a huff, and I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.
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