AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She walks around the living room, checking everything out. Well, that is an overstatement. There is little to check out. I have no pictures, no art, and no tapestry. I live relatively simply and bare. I grew up with nothing, and that way of living is ingrained in me now. I don’t see the point in frivolous things just because. I have the necessities, and that suffices. Well, I have a ton of books. All kinds of subjects. I just love to read.
“Dinner will be ready in a sec,” I say to her, hoping she comes back here so I can stare into her mint green eyes a little longer. Nodding, she walks into the kitchen and looks at everything I have laid out, including a loaf of bread, butter, and a small salad the wife of another fisherman made me. Apparently, I need more vegetables. Jesus, she is beautiful. She bites her lip, looking at the spread before her. I want that lip.
“It is just the two of us. Are you trying to stuff me?” You’re damn right. Ah, shit. I came back with that too quickly, even if it is in my head. I am in so much trouble.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANYA
Why is he staring at me like that? I feel like he’s looking into my soul or something. Finally, he returns to what he’s doing, and I get to stare at him. He’s so hot, like movie star hot. His tight t-shirt leaves nothing to my imagination as he works.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask, and he chuckles. I don’t like that chuckle. I know that chuckle. He thinks I can’t do anything. I want to show him exactly what I can do so badly.
“No, Princess. I’m almost done.”
“Anya. My name is Anya.”
“I know.” Why won’t he say my name? I can hear my phone going off upstairs from the bedroom. A good thing about Evermore is that everyone has the same phone brand, meaning all chargers are universal. A spare one was on the nightstand upstairs, so I plugged it in before I got in the shower. I smelled like fish. That wasn’t a cute look for me. I ignore the phone and go back to staring at the man. With every move he makes, the anchor on his arm flexes.
“It’s ready,” he says after a few more minutes. I shuffle over to the table and sit down. We serve ourselves, and instead of wine, I drink the water that’s on the table.
“This is delicious,” I say after taking a few bites of everything. There’s an awkward silence, but eventually, we begin to make small talk. “Have you always been a fisherman?” This is where he really begins to open up to me.
“Yes. I started working on the docks at about ten, doing odd jobs. Then, the older guys took pity on me and took me out on the boats with them. They taught me netting and how to trap, but it’s the hooking that I’m best at.” This is the most he’s said to me, and I love it. Before I know it, we are done eating, and I am clearing off the table. I begin to do the dishes.
“Princess, you don’t have to do that,” Christopher says, standing beside me.
“You cooked.”
“It’s soup. I heated it up.”
“Still.”
“I’m just… surprised you know how to do dishes… I mean, that came out wrong.”
“No, it didn’t. I went to university in England. I worked in a cafe for the experience. It was the best four years of my life. I don’t remember my classes, but I remember the Expresso machine exploding. My friend, Maggie, taught me many things I didn’t know how to do. I can even wash laundry.” Everyone, even my family, thinks I’m a bit empty-headed, the press especially. I can’t blame them; I’ve done nothing to change their perception of that. It’s time I grow up. Running away probably isn’t the best way to achieve that, though.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. What did you get a degree in?”
“Communications and business administration.”
“There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Princess?”
“Isn’t that true of most people?”
“One hopes.”
“I know how the press portrays me, Christopher.”
“And how is that, Princess?”
“Do you really not know?” How is that possible? He just shrugs. I roll my eyes. He just wants me to humiliate myself.
“The Toxic Princess. Awful Anya. Party Princess. Yesterday’s Dress Anya. The list goes on and on. None of which is true.”
“Fuck them, Princess,” he growls. He’s standing close to me now.
“My name is Anya,” I remind him breathlessly.
