His brow knitted as he tilted his head, staring at me incredulously. “And how are you so sure?”
My lips still hovered over his face while I slightly slouched towards him. “Let’s make a bet.”
He turned around to face me, finally realizing how seriously I was. He looked down at me, the imposing yet intimidating height difference was palpable.
He let out a throaty chuckle, amused by my sage. “Really? A bet?” He chuckled again, crossing his arms. “How desperate are you?”
I admit I repeatedly cross my boundaries, but I couldn’t help it when my heart keeps nagging me to never shut my feelings out. “I might be desperate today; it will be your turn tomorrow.” To be honest, I don’t know where this frightening boldness was coming from. I know I can be a pest sometimes, but this is way out of the charts. “You’re gonna look at me the same way I do, and then you will interpret love from my perspective.”
His eyes keenly trailed my mouth as I spoke; he was truly amused and intrigued by my confidence.
But I didn’t know where the hell it was coming from!
“I don’t want to play this game of yours,” he finally spoke after being silent for quite some time.
“I’d like you to play, Mr. Clinton. Since we are both so adamant in our beliefs and demands, it’s only fair we get to see who has the most perseverance.” A wide smirk spread from the corner of my lips as we delved into a more heated conversation.
The look in his eyes hinted at his interest in my proposed game. “Okay, I agree because I want you to get me out of your head as soon as possible. Whoever loses gives up.”
My smirk stretched with more resolve to play this game that I didn’t even know how to go about.
But then I began to doubt myself. God, what the hell am I proposing? This man is as stubborn as me; I would have to try to get him to fall for me more intensely than I initially planned.
Fuck Sarah. This is your impulsive side! I screamed in my head as I watched his lips curve up in a wry smile with confidence burning in his gaze.
I masked my face with a grin, concealing the uncertainty bubbling within me.
What if he gets the upper hand? He is more unfathomable than I imagined. I was quite surprised he agreed to play my silly game. I thought his reactions were a bit predictable when I moved over, but I guessed I miscalculated him. I really don’t understand him anymore.
Ever since he discovered my feelings, he had wholly changed.
“Are you chickening out now?” he scoffed, his gaze never faltering.
“No.” I quickly rebutted without breaking eye contact. “You’ll be the one to chicken out and accept my feelings.”
Oh my God, my confidence is increasing by the second! Damn! “So how would you like to play this game, Sarah?” he said, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes.
“The game will last for…” I drawled, thinking of a favorable span of time. “Six months…”
“No.” He interjected, the smirk on his face cracking like a mirror. “It wouldn’t make the game interesting, would it?”
My brow knitted, confused by what he meant. “So what do you suggest?”
“Three months. Games are meant to be challenging; if not, it won’t be engrossing,” he replied, his voice firm with a hint of derision.
Fuck, he is so damn unpredictable! He leaned in closer, our faces mere inches apart. “Sarah, never underestimate an older guy. I have a lot of experience, much more than you. When you were still a baby, I had my fair share of heartbreak. Are you sure you’re ready to go through the heartbreak? I can be merciless sometimes.”
My heart skipped a beat, raging in my ribcage. His words sent shivers down my spine. I gulped. What the hell does he mean by that? Merciless? He is heartless, alright? His constant rejection was thrusting thorns into my heart. What much can he do?
Is it heartbreak? He had broken my heart after his heartless rejection.
What could he possibly mean by that? I scoffed, shutting my fears out.
“I’m ready when you’re ready,” I said, masking my face with a ruse of smugness.
“If I don’t accept your feelings or reciprocate them in the span of three months, you will leave me alone and trash that juvenile love of yours.”
Okay now, that just fueled my resolve even more. I’m gonna prove to this man that the love I have for him is not juvenile. “Fine, and you are gonna pepper me with kisses to make up for the heartbreak you caused me and also be unabashed about this juvenile love of mine. Agreed?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you because I am fed up with your obstinacy,” he responded, his expression suddenly turning serious. “And when this game is over, you’re going to totally surrender to defeat. Got that?”
With a firm nod, we sealed our deal. A sense of elation washed over me. This game will be my final straw. A perfect chance to act on my feelings without thinking I’m crossing a boundary. I get to do what I want to make him fall for me, and he had agreed to comply with my sudden suggestion. But deep within me, a faint feeling of doubt began crawling to the surface.
No to failure!
No to defeat!
I screamed in my head, my lips pursing with resolve, clouding my mind with dirty ideas to try out. Hmm… I slowly nodded as I processed all the tactics appearing in my mind.
There is no way he won’t fall for me.
With a smooth move, he turned around and made his way to the living room, leaving me drowning in my own thoughts.
Just then, I heard glass shattering coming from behind me. I turned, my eyes darting to the direction it was coming from. I noticed the vase placed on the table in the corner of the passage had fallen down.
But what made it fall all of a sudden? I moved towards the area, trying my best to avoid every shard of glass on the floor since I now have the habit of walking around the house barefooted. I couldn’t afford to get hurt; I’m not a masochist.
My brow furrowed in surprise as I noticed the door to my bedroom was wide open. What the hell? I locked it before going downstairs. Or was it Mr. Clinton?
But the shattered glass interrupted otherwise.
I heard a soft humming coming from the room.
Miss Ross is downstairs; who would it be? “Who is there?” I called out as I entered the room to see who invaded my bedroom without my permission.