« Last post by Derek Reese on January 25, 2021, 02:53:10 PM »
"But what if you had to only choose one?" he asked, lifting his index finger and leaning toward her for emphasis.
"Is it one colour, but all the shades of that colour, or do you mean one shade of one colour?" she asked, apparently engaging quite seriously in this attempt to pin her down on an opinion.
"One color, doesn't matter what the shade is," he replied, wondering if she was purposely over-complicating the question.
"Aww, man ..." She'd never really had to think about her preferences so deeply before, but he was putting her on the spot. "I guess ... if I had to choose ... it would be purple? Maybe?"
"Purple," he echoed. "Okay. Good. Was that so hard?" he asked, a small smirk on his face. "Now, you said your favorite musical is Wicked, so what's your favorite movie?" he asked, pressing her a little bit harder.
"Yeah, it was hard!" she protested laughingly. "Movies is harder, too. Because it all depends on mood whether a movie will make you feel good or bad, or bored."
"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't pick one that was boring," he said. He understood what she was saying, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't pick a movie that bored her for a favorite.
"Narrow it down for me," she suggested, a part of her thoroughly enjoying making this simple thing as complicated as possible just to see how far he would let himself be pushed before she forced herself to come up with an answer.
"Pick a favorite genre," he countered, unwilling to make it too easy for her. "What do you like to watch? Mysteries, thrillers, romance, comedy, science fiction?" He could have asked that same question regarding books.
"That's hard," she whined, still laughing. "I like comedy, but I like romance, too. And sometimes I like science fiction and action, and occasionally I'll watch a mystery or a thriller."
"Okay, fine," he said, turning back to the TV and flicking through the channels on her remote. "Tell me when to stop," he said, going slow enough that she got a peek at what was on before he moved on.
"Aren't you supposed to wait until you've got your hand up my top to say that?" Holli asked playfully, obediently turning her eyes to the screen to watch the images go by. Nothing was really catching her eye, mostly because she was more focused on the man at her side.
"I can't very well do that and sip hot cocoa at the same time," he was quick to point out, a hint of a smirk on his face. He turned the TV off and set the remote back down. "You don't really want to watch a movie, do you?"
She smiled. "I'm enjoying your company," she admitted. "I just figured you might want something to watch while you're drinking your cocoa, that's all."
"What if I'm perfectly content watching you?" he asked, before taking another sip of his cocoa, before it wasn't hot anymore.
"I'm okay with that. So long as you're not, you know, just staring like a stalker," she added with a grin over the top of her own mug. A flicker outside the window caught her attention, drawing a smile to her face once again as large flakes of snow began to fall outside.
"Just how does a stalker stare?" he asked, with a little accidental alliteration. He was teasing, of course, but it seemed to amuse him to hear her answers to these pointless questions.
"With evil intent and without blinking," she answered, sticking her tongue out at him. "And mostly through binoculars, but those would just make you super obvious when you're in my apartment."
He laughed. "Yeah, I don't think you have to worry about that," he said. What did he have to stalk her for when he was already sort of dating her?
"So what does a typical day look like for you, Derek?" she asked, letting curiosity out once again now he had prodded her into making a decision on her favourite colour.
"I'm not sure I have any typical days," he replied, pausing to sip his cocoa before continuing. "I mean, I'm an investigative reporter, so I don't really keep regular hours."
"That makes sense," she mused. "But you must have some kind of routine, right? Everyone does, even people who don't have a predictable lifestyle."
"Sort of," he replied with a shrug. "I mean, I get up around the same time every day, eat breakfast, go for a run, take a shower and go to work," he said, his answer still somewhat vague.
"You work out in the mornings, huh?" She smiled, tucking that little tidbit away for later. "What's your usual route? And time?"
"Planning on stalking me?" he asked, an amused expression on his face. "Or joining me?"
"Why would I stalk you when I can just ... happen to be running in the same direction at the same time?" she asked innocently. "I mean, I would probably be safer running with you than alone, right?"
"Holli, if you want to run with me, all you have to do is ask," he told her, wondering why she might feel unsafe or that in need of protection.
"Maybe it feels a little forward to ask to run with you when we've only really known each other for twenty-four hours," she suggested with a half shrug, finishing off her cocoa with a last tip of the mug. She leaned forward, setting the empty mug on the coffee table before resuming her comfortable position on the couch beside him. "But then, I did kinda offer you sex with catering, so forward might just be my calling card."
"You did promise me some heavy petting," he reminded her with another smirk. "I could be wrong, but asking to run with me seems a little less forward than that." He, too, finished off his cocoa and set the mug on the table beside hers. "What's going on, Holli? Are in some kind of trouble?"
"I'm not in trouble," she promised him, but hesitated. "I ... Can I trust you? And I don't mean trust you as in letting you in my home, or anything like that. I mean ... can I trust you with my life?"