42

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Damon

Now that I'm trying to pursue Catherine.

Also known as risking her fate and losing my credibility to follow simple instructions such as distracting a woman, I need to start on the pursuing part.

It's been quite some time since I last tried impressing someone and it usually didn't take much effort.

I guess cooking after the big wham was something most women found charming about a guy.

I mean hey, here have some scrambled eggs.

The problem now is, the same pattern I followed when it came to the women I've been with in the past, which surprisingly isn't a lot, wouldn't and (absolutely) couldn't apply to Catherine.

For one, cooking for her without clothes on (that's how it goes and it works every time) is a big no-no.

I want her to like me.

Not get her killed by giving her a heart attack.

Also, I do cook for her. Almost every day. So unless I cook something fancier than usual, she wouldn't notice even if I put extra meatballs on her spaghetti.

There's also the fact that she doesn't dig the bad boy image I put up on day one. It didn't exactly ward her off. But it didn't get her to show obvious signs of attraction either. Aside from the occasional glances she throws my way whenever I walk around shirtless. But I'm guessing that's normal. If I saw her shirtless, I would have taken a picture.

Come to think of it, I did see her shirtless. With a nice pair of underwear as a bonus.

She's that one woman that makes me stay up at night. Imagine my struggle when she stayed in my room. I will never admit this to anyone, but I would sometimes wake up and just...look at her.

Before she starts moving around and ends up on my bed. Not that I'm complaining.

She gets me thinking on what she thought of me.

I don't even know on what she thinks about the new car.

Okay so it's not exactly new.

But it was as good as one. The only complaint I heard from her was that the air freshener I got smelled bad and I should just put a used shirt inside my car at all times.

I'm not sure on how I should take her observation about how I smell better than the apple-scented can I got.

When we got back to the apartment the night I got kicked in the baby bank, she changed in her pajamas and we sat down and talked about work. She still wouldn't tell me where exactly it is that she went to with Robert. By the way she spoke; I could tell that she was hiding something from me. She looked at me like she wanted to say something but changed her mind before even speaking.

We spend quiet evenings most of the time, just sharing this comfortable silence while watching women slap each other on national television during dinner.

I guess when you actually just sat it out for a minute and think about it, really think about it. This was how most of us would want our day to end.

Me just sitting on the couch with someone who could withstand my singing and (her words) snake-like trait of leaving clothes on the living room.

I'm working on it.

Maybe I should take voice lessons.

Unfortunately, making popcorn for her wasn't going to get me anywhere. Especially with Robert giving her flowers almost every day and texting her good morning while I couldn't even text her unless I was asking where she put the keys to the apartment.

I was trying to act like a man here. Not an eager teenage boy sending the girl he likes wink faces.

You know what; put some hearts on it for good measure.

Not that I would do that.

...

Looking down on my phone, I started deleting the emojis I added on the text message I was about to send her regarding tonight's dinner.

"I'm not a teenager." I scoffed before staring at the screen of my phone and putting it back in my pocket.

"Who said you were?" a gruff voice from behind me spoke as I patted the hood of my car. Groaning, I regarded Mitch as he walked towards me while wiping his hands. He stood beside me and grinned before admiring my means of transport.

"Was she impressed?" he nudged my shoulder with his, the smell of beer evident when he spoke. Can't really tell him that Catherine liked it since I don't even know what she thinks about it me. He wiped his nose and slapped me on the back. "If you want to impress a woman-" I looked at him, thinking that he would actually give me some decent advice. Ever since Benjie left, Mitch took it upon himself to be my father figure. And he isn't really being helpful at the moment.

"Is to be like a fart ninja."

"To impress a woman, I need to be like a fart ninja." I pushed him away from me, shaking my head. "Whatever drink you're taking, I want some. Maybe I could write her a poem about her being as soft as clouds and marshmallows, too."

He laughed and shook his head, slinging the towel over his shoulder. "I'm giving you some serious advice here."

Seeing how he looked like he was expecting me to hear him out, I crossed my arms and sat on the hood of my car.

"Let's hear it." I mean who knows, maybe what he's about to say might help or at least give me an idea on what I'm supposed to do.

Since that night I saw Catherine walking alone, I had this strange feeling that I was running out of time. And I didn't like it.

I didn't like it all.

Mitch grinned before placing his hands on my shoulders. Like a two-man huddle. "On being a fart ninja,-" I waited while he looked around, as if someone overhearing his advice would compromise my new mission. "You have to be silent...but deadly."

I shouldn't have asked. Why did I even think or consider that he'd make sense. He's probably been drinking half the day away.

"Silent but deadly? That's what you got for me?" but instead of laughing, he looked annoyed.

"Men do not say too much of the sweet things most women think we would say. We say it because we feel the need to since that's what they expect us to say. You get me? We do not tell them that their hair's as sparkly as the ocean during a sunset. You're not Aladdin. That just ain't happening." he patted my cheek and sat beside me.

"I told the woman I loved that her hair was like new polished shoes. Because it was that shiny. Most women appreciate honesty. They hate it half of the time, but they learn to understand that we wouldn't follow the script they have in their heads."

I blinked a couple of times before clearing my throat. Well he's had too much beer. No way would he share his life story if he happened to be sober. And it seems like he isn't planning on stopping either.

"She was pretty. Met her on one of my trips. That's the beauty of going to different places. You see a lot of beautiful women." he smiled and started walking around my car.

"She reminded me of chocolate. The sweetest kind. And she was mad at me. A white boy trying to get under her skirt. "He laughed a little before opening the backseat, checking the car's interior. "There's something about getting to know a woman other than what's under her clothes. You kind of stumble along her heart in the process like some voodoo shit."

He got out of the backseat and looked at me. "But her parents didn't like me. We were young. We were both afraid. I left. She cried. I died. She married someone better."

He patted my back before sighing. "I was a fart ninja. It worked. But I got too silent." Mitch turned around and started walking away. "If you need any help, I'll be at your office, napping."

I've heard every one of the guy's sob story about losing the women they loved. And still love. And they usually just drank the loneliness away. Except Mitch. While the others bragged about how beautiful their women were, he just gave them their beers and listened to the slurry speeches the old souls told.

If I don't move now, I might end up sitting here with a bottle of beer and pondering about that lovely girl I almost ran over with my bike.

The female reapers were less open about their past lives and were more reserved when asked about how they died. The guys were smart enough to take the hint that they shouldn't even mess around.

Speaking of dead people.

"You know if you keep popping out like this, I'm going to start thinking you miss me." I turned my head to the side and saw him in the corner of my eye exiting one of the rooms where we keep the nasties.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" he fixed his tie and regarded my latest purchase. He then turned his attention to me. "Whatever it is that you're planning on doing, think it over. You're risking a lot of things here, my boy."

Clenching my hands into fists, I looked down on the dirty floors in hopes of calming myself. The guy didn't even show up on any other event that happened in my life, yet here he is now. Constantly reminding me that what I'm about to do would mess things up.

I'm not stupid. I know what I'm doing. For once in my life, I wanted to have something or rather someone that I can call mine. I never complained about not having any friends when I was younger. I had my mom. I have the guys here at the garage. There wasn't really anything to whine about.

But then this girl comes along with her librarian glasses and floral dresses and made me think that maybe I should actually play the 'bad' on bad boy. And what better way on proving my badassery than disobeying the great One, out of all the forces that could probably drag me to where my father lives.

I could just go rob a bank. Or drown a puppy.

Or I'll just rob a bank.

That would be a valid reason and I'll accept it with open arms.

But then I'm imagining myself being on a court room with a judge telling me I'm going to go down under because I was an idiot for chasing a woman. And I would just smile at everyone and shout 'I regret nothing!' of course that's if Catherine and I work out.

"You know what; I never really got into trouble." I faced him and gave him a grin. "Guess this is a good time as any."

He regarded me with an amused expression on his face, shrugging his shoulders. "Time. Of course. After all, you don't have much time now that-"

He didn't get to finish his speech about how I'm going to screw the nails on my metal coffin when I wordlessly got into my car.

I have better things to do than to listen about things I already know. Patting the pocket of my jeans, I groaned and slapped my forehead. I counted to three before opening the car door.

"Have you seen it my way, child?" He raised a brow but I just walked past him.

Past all the guys currently working on a car.

Past the rooms where we kept the nasties and climbed the steps up to my office.

Without even knocking, I opened the door and Mitch almost fell off the sofa.

"Huh? You need advice already?" he was rubbing his eyes but I didn't reply. Instead, I started opening the drawers and turning the folders on my table.

Where the hell did I put my car keys?

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net