Kai
“Why?” I say as I smack Leo on the head with my phone. “Why did you have to mention the fucking book?”
“I’m sorry; it slipped out.” Leo tries to apologize, but I hit him again.
“You’re the worst stalker in the history of stalkers,” I say and smack him again.
“Ouch.” Leo rubs his head.
“You big baby, that didn’t hurt.” I hit him again.
“Dude! Stop fucking hitting me.” He grabs my hand in midair before I have the opportunity to collide it with his head. “To be fair, I didn’t want to become a stalker to begin with,” Leo argues.
“Oh well, now you are one, buddy,” I joke as I sit back in my seat on the couch. We’ve been back in the apartment for a while, but all we’ve done is order Chinese food and watch Noah and Rachel read.
“Fine, I’ll admit this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have told him about the book,” Leo says as he takes a bite of his food, his eyes never leaving the TV, where the feed from the cameras is now playing.
“Do you think we should stop watching them?” I ask as I take a bite of my own food.
“She believed you when you said you’re not stalking her, right?” Leo asks instead.
“Yes.” At least I think she did.
“Then no.” Leo is too invested in this.
“Where did the guy who scolded me about stalking go?” I wonder aloud.
“He got invested in her friend.” Leo grabs a spring roll and stuffs his mouth with it. “Now shut the fuck up and watch your show.”
“I’ve created a monster,” I joke and grab the last spring roll before said monster eats it too.
“In my defense, I told you this was a bad idea,” Leo informs me.
“In your defense, you have been stalking the same people I have,” I inform him in return.
“Fair.” Leo takes a sip from his beer, and I grab the bottle from him, taking a drink for myself.
“You could go and grab your own, you know,” he tells me, but I know he doesn’t mind. I have always done this, and he complains every time but always shares his drinks with me in the end.
“And you could find your own cameras to watch Noah from.” I take another sip from the beer bottle.
“Technically, I paid for those. You charged the bar’s account.” Fuck, that reminds me I need to transfer the money back from my personal account. I take out my phone, log in to my internet banking app, and wire the amount to the bar’s account.
“Now you haven’t; I transferred the money back,” I announce with a smirk, and Leo tosses me a pack of napkins that was sitting on the couch between us.
“Asshole.” I laugh as I gather the napkins and set them on the living room table in front of us.
Then I sit back, sinking into the comfy couch as I watch Rachel read her book in silence.
I could get used to that. Watching her read, teasing her.
This is a nice routine we have developed in the last few hours of knowing her.
The start of a love story, one where Prince Charming is the villain that stalks the princess and kidnaps her to his castle.
I like that idea more than traditional fairy tales.
I would make a dashing Prince Charming, if you ask me, but instead of a white horse, I would be riding a GSX-R1000R.
I love my bike, and I think it would make my Prince Charming cred even more valid.
Because who would trust a prince riding on a white horse in this century?
But a black motorcycle and a rider with blue hair—who wouldn’t trust that?