Page 17 of Falling for My Ex Next Door

“I’m not interested in listening to whatever you want to say. Can we just remain at a distance from each other? That would be very healthy for both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” he moved closer.

I instinctively moved back inside the house, trying as much as possible not to get close to him.

His eyes were then bluer than ever, bluer and manipulative. I looked away. I wasn’t going to be subject to his wicked charm, but I found myself returning my gaze to him.

“I’m sorry. I want to speak with you. I want-” he paused, his figure looming dangerously over me. My heart beat even faster, thumping against its cage for an escape.

I blinked. We were not a thing, after all, I resolved and turned back, leaving the door ajar.

“Nice house.” He said, but I wasn’t going to fall for his compliments.

“What do you have to say?” I crossed my arms in defense.

“Thank you for letting me in. Have this...” He stretched out a dish covered with aluminum foil.

“I don’t want it.” I was assertive. He could not possibly be thinking of bribing me with food, could he?

“Could you please take it? I spent a lot of time preparing it.” He persisted.

“I never asked you to prepare me a meal. I-”

“Please, don’t be stubborn and just have it.” He cut me off. How rude! I was irritated, and with great force, I snatched it from him and angrily put it on the nearby console.

“Won’t you take a look at what’s inside?” He urged, and I rolled my eyes, so very much like him.

Reluctantly, I took off the foil, and there it was, sitting prettily and deliciously inside the pie dish. Chicken pot pie! I restrained my surprise.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you smile.”

“Me? Smile?”

Did I smile? Was I smiling? How could I smile? How could you do that, Clara? I sighed, I had conspicuously betrayed myself in front of this man. I feel my cheeks burn.

“Yes, you had a beautiful smile just now, could you please take away that frown?” He jovially said. This man couldn’t reappear after three years and expect everything to go smoothly as though nothing ever happened, could he?

“Why are you here?” I returned to the original point of conflict.

“Clara,” he stepped closer.

“Don’t you move any closer. You can speak very well over there, and I will clearly hear you.” I let him know, he took a few steps backward.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed.

I felt butterflies in my tummy. The softness of his voice was my absolute weakness, he knew, and that was why he was here, in front of me.

“So what exactly do you want, Jacob? I don’t have all day.” I intended to sound a little disciplined, but it didn’t go as planned.

An awkward silence fell like a comet between us, and I felt like it was going to devour my entire being. His eyes were on me, and mine tried to wander aimlessly about, but I was blatantly unsuccessful.

“Do you want to watch me eat what you gave me?” The question slipped out of my mouth when he wouldn’t utter a word.

“It will be a pleasure.” He suddenly twitched a small, wicked smile.

I blinked, I had finally shot myself in the leg. Now, he had no cause to leave anytime soon.

I ambled towards the dining room, set the pie dish before me, drew back a chair, and arrogantly sat on it.

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