Teach Me to Love

Opening the door, I gawk up at a handsome man with brown hair and blue eyes. My phone slips out of my hand, and I brush my hair back as I raise my line of sight up his body.

I cannot string a sentence together as my mouth falls open slightly.

He’s dressed in a full black suit with a white shirt. Is he also employed by Mr. Robernero? Wren is talking on the phone, which is on the floor. I giggle nervously and immediately stop as my eyes widen.

“Erh.” My voice squeaks. I swallow and clear my throat. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the top, revealing his bare chest. I see the silver cross around his neck as he turns his head to the side.

I drop my gaze to the concrete stoop outside my house.

“Good evening, Miss Verb. How nice it is to meet the woman behind the letter. Did you receive my letter?” Letter? That statement contained only a date and no other information. At the very least, he could have sent me a photo.

“Erm, yes.” I glance inside my house and back to him. “I thought it was the seventh, you—”

“Oh yes, it is the seventh, Miss Verb. I’m here to collect you. We need to have a formal discussion before that date if you don’t mind granting me access to your property. I’m sure you would like to change for the occasion.”

No! I would not. I brush a strand of my black hair behind my ear.

“Erm. As handsome as you are, no thanks.” I slam the door in his face and remember my phone. Shit.

“Miss Verb. I’m sure you need your—”

Opening the door, I smile. Grabbing my phone from his hand, I shout, “Thanks,” and slam the door again.

What the hell was that, Lola! Seriously. You can’t just slam the door in that poor man’s face and leave him outside, my mind tells me. I’m too stubborn. Yes, I can.

“Aah. I see how it is. You’re afraid so you close the door and wait for me to go away. I’m sorry to ruin your plan, Miss Verb, but I’ve traveled for many hours to meet you, and I’m not going to leave because you want me to.

“I would appreciate it if you would open the door,” he shouts through the mailbox.

“No, Robernero. I will not open the door. You may go home now.” I sit down on my brown-carpeted step and cross my arms, listening to his footsteps as they move away from the door.

I wait for a couple of minutes until I hear no movement. Walking over to the door, I open it up and look from left to right.

He’s nowhere to be seen. He’s gone home, thank fuck for that.

Entering my living room, I sit down as Eastenders starts on the TV. I love this show. There’s drama in every episode.

“Ahh, where were we?”

I turn to my right to see the man who shouldn’t be in my house. He’s standing right there! Why is he in my house? How disrespectful!

“Excuse me. I would appreciate it if you would leave,” he said. He doesn’t listen. In fact, he sits down on my two-seater couch with a smug grin on his face. Who does he think he is invading my privacy like this?

“If I could interrupt you there,” he holds his finger up, and I throw my head back. “You’re going to do that anyway, so go right ahead.”

“If you don’t want intruders, then I would recommend that you lock your back door in the future.” Yippee, go you, not!

“Well, mister, if you want some respect, then you should earn it, and if I’m frankly honest, that will not happen if you enter somebody else’s property without their permission. This is absurd.”

I cross my arms over my chest, sighing. Placing my right leg on top of my left, I watch some Eastenders and ignore him. The two of us sit in silence.

Glancing over at him from time to time, I see how he’s sitting. His legs are spread, his right arm is on his right leg, and his left arm leans on the armrest. A silver watch is wrapped around his right wrist.

He has a tan, which tells me that he travels out of the country frequently. The reason why I know this is because we only get two days of summer—not literally, but it may as well be.

“I apologize. I think we’ve started off on the wrong foot. My bad,” he comments, and I look over at him from the corner of my eye.

“Yes, and we aren’t going to try and fix it either. Listen, I may be thirty and never speak to men, but I have my reasons.”

“Which is?” He smirks.

“Me and the male species do not get along. That includes you. I’m not interested, get the hint and leave my house.” I snarl at him. He laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“You want me to leave?”

“Mhm. Yes, I do.” I want him to leave more than anything right now. I don’t know who he is, and I’m definitely not going to fall for his sweet charm.

Biting the insides of my cheeks, I sigh.

“Come and dine with me. We will have our discussion, and I will leave you alone,” Robernero shrugs his shoulders, and I raise my eyebrows.

“And what do you want to discuss with me, Mr. Robernero?”

“How I will make you fall in love with me.” I fall back laughing. He has got to be joking with me right now. I’m appalled.

“Yeah right. The only love you’re getting is from your pillow.” Shaking my head, I look at the TV and turn it up so that I can’t hear him. Yes, that’s better.

I relax as the sound bar pops up on the TV. Why is it doing that? I glance over at the man who I don’t know. He waves his phone in the air. It’s expensive!

I’ve never seen a phone like the one he’s holding.

“I can control your TV through this app. As I was saying, I’m not leaving your house until you and I have a discussion.”

Standing up, I huff and enter my kitchen. Since I can’t watch TV, I will keep myself occupied by making a cup of tea with a trifle. Opening my cupboards, I take out some of the ingredients, ignoring the fact that I have company.

Pulling my fridge door open, I take out the whipped cream and strawberries, laying them down on my kitchen counter. I need to get the top part changed because the vinyl is starting to peel.

I sense that he’s behind me as I grab the strawberries and wash them thoroughly. He walks closer to me and whispers into my ear, “Not forgetting how I will make you crash down to your knees begging for me to fuck you.”

That makes my stomach churn as a shiver shoots up my spine. I’m not going to deny it, that was sexy as fuck. Still, I’m a woman who doesn’t give in easily.

This man is different to all the others I have dated over the years. I twist myself around to find him practically standing on me. Narrowing my eyes, I look up at him. He won’t give up!

“Never in a million years.”

“I could pay you. I see you’re in need of some food in this place.” He looks around my kitchen as I place the strawberries down on the kitchen counter. Fisting my hands, I feel anger surge through me.

“How dare you search through my cupboards! I am not a prostitute, you creep.” He laughs deep inside his throat. That’s it! If he doesn’t leave in the next two minutes, then I will cut him with one of my knives.

“But that’s not all, is it? I have money in one account that you can have, and you are in desperate need of furniture.”

“I’m not interested in your money!” Oh my fucking god. I turn around and move to the right, away from him.

“It’s your loss. Go change your clothes. I’ll take you out to dinner.” Who does he think he is to insist that I go get dressed? He’s crazy!

“I’d rather drink tea.” I switch the kettle on and glance at him in the mirror of my cupboard, which houses all my food. He shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re stuck with me, then.” I observe him as he walks out of the kitchen. What am I meant to do to get rid of him? I’m not in the mood to go out to eat.

I don’t have the funds, and I don’t know who he is.

“I think I’ll sit right here,” he shouts from the living room. Breathing in and leaning against the kitchen counter, I close my eyes.

Lord, give me strength at this difficult time.

“Argh. Fine!” I can’t picture sitting with him all night. It’ll help me out anyway because I’m hungry and can’t be bothered cooking the trifle right now.

It would be far too sweet.

“Step one me, you zero. Off you pop,” he yells, and I growl quietly.

Popping my head into the living room, I narrow my eyes at him. “Shut up!” He smirks at me, and I turn around, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my bedroom.

In my room, I phone Wren while he waits for me downstairs.

“Who the hell is this man? He entered my house without my permission, and now he’s demanding for me to go out for food with him.” Opening my wardrobe doors, I search through the pile of clothes for a dress.

“Er, let’s just say he doesn’t give up.”

Understatement.

Searching through my wardrobe for something to wear, I find my bright-yellow tracksuit. I refuse to wear a dress! I don’t want to impress him.

If anything, I want to push him away from me, so I grab the tracksuit, leave my wardrobe in a pigsty, and throw it down onto my bed. That will do the job. Perfect!

Who would want to be seen walking around with a woman in a duck tracksuit? I know I wouldn’t. Why the hell did I even buy it in the first place? Oh, I don’t know, but it does come in handy now.

I smile to myself and throw it on while I talk to Wren about the man sitting in my living room. She doesn’t know anything about him either and laughs.

I end the call with her and throw my phone down onto the bed and brush my hair back with my hands.

This is stressing me the hell out!

Walking down the stairs, I secure my hair back with a hair tie and find him waiting for me. He’s leaning up against the wall next to the door in his formal suit.

I watch as his eyes go from my sneakers all the way up my body to my hair. He smirks at me, and I fold my arms across my chest. He’s amused.