Page 11 of The Billionaire's Fan

I let him choose between the movies offered here, and he chose the horror movie. Which kept me close to him, likely his plan all along.

My head would turn into him, and he would tighten his grip around my shoulders. I would jump and he would silently laugh. Then, there were moments where I’m sure he wasn’t aware that I noticed when he would kiss the top of my head.

During a slow part of the movie, I turned my head and looked at him. He meets my gaze.

“This is the part where we should make-out,” I tell him.

“Is it? What if we miss something important in the movie?”

“I’m pretty sure them torturing this couple isn’t anything that will give any importance to the plot of the movie.”

“You’re right,” he turns, leaning his body toward me. His thumb lifts my chin as he closes the gap between us and kisses me. I thread my hand through his short hair and hold him to me for the next several moments. We lose ourselves in one another with screams from the movie in the background.

“Do you have any roommates?”he asks, adjusting his hat as we walk up the sidewalk to my home.

“No, why?” I ask, turning to him as I fish my keys out of my purse.

“I don’t want the night to end. It’s still early.”

“Well, I have ice cream.” I smile.

“What flavor?” he places his hands on his hips.

“Rocky Road, cookies and cream, and mint.”

“That’s a lot of different flavors.”

“All my different personalities have their own tastes.”

“Different personalities?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t every woman have multiple?”

“Oh, I’m not going to answer that one. I know a trap when I see one.” He grins.

“Wise man.”

He holds out his hand for the key to the house, and I place them in his palm. He turns and unlocks the door, opens it, and motions me inside, then shuts the door behind us.

We choose our flavor of ice cream. I handed him a spoon, and we ate out of the cartons while standing at the kitchen counter. We stood there in the kitchen eating ice cream, then drinking tea over the next several hours into the middle of the night.

Eventually, I noticed the time, and as much as I didn’t want to end; I insisted he stay the night. I showed him to the guest bedroom.

“So, my room is right there.” I point to the door at the end of the short hallway. He looks around me and nods.

“I’ll just be in here.” He opens the door, points into the room, and lingers in the doorway.

“And I’ll be over there,” I replied, mimicking the same towards my bedroom.

He steps forward, places his hand on my hip, and kisses my cheek. “Good night.”

A moment later, he walks into the guest room and closes the door behind him. I hear a lock click into place.

“Just in case you get any ideas, my virtue will remain in place.” He says behind the door with what I imagine holds a full-blown mischievous grin.

I turn and go towards my bedroom. After turning off the lights, I lie in bed. My mind raced about the man in the other room. The verified rock star under my roof. The very same person who I’ve kissed several times since meeting him backstage at his concert. The guy who is just like any other.

I toss and turn. My thoughts running rampant. We went out on a date, a normal date. We spent the night getting to know one another and our conversation flowed perfectly. And he’s under my roof, in my spare bed.

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