Chapter 8 IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES (1)
GALLAHAN’S POV
A dismal look marred Willa’s features, despite the tiny curl at the ends of her lips. She was looking down at the plate of stir fried noodles that were still mildly glistening in sauce.
“The war is a polarizing topic,” she said at last. “So I was thinking while in the bathroom…”
“Yes?” I urged on, taking a salacious tone with my voice.
A withering glare from her got me grinning.
“Maybe it would help if we ease ourselves into this conversation, instead of diving head first into a topic we are sure to fight about.”
I hummed with a nod of my head. “So you’re suggesting having small talks?”
A pink hue dusted the apples of her cheeks. “Yeah. I am. It allows us to establish rapport, I suppose. Makes us feel a little more comfortable. Maybe then we could slowly broach the sensitive topic without one of us immediately getting defensive and angry.”
“That makes sense,” I replied, picking up one of the forks and handing it to Willa.
She accepted it with a whispered ‘thanks’ and began to twirl the noodles around her fork. “So…”
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked to save her from the awkward task of starting the small talk she wanted.
My question got her snorting.
“What? You said small talk.”
We battled in a staring contest for a couple of heartbeats before she conceded and said, “Fine. Fine. It’s green.”
“Mine too.”
“No, it isn’t,” she argued before shoving a forkful of noodles in her mouth.
“No, it wasn’t. But only until I saw such a pretty shade of green in the middle of a battle,” I said, making it a point to look her in the eyes so she wouldn’t miss what I was pertaining to.
A sense of childish triumph flared in my chest as I watched the pretty pink flush bursting on her cheeks.
So easy.
“My turn,” she said once she had swallowed down her food. “Favorite food.”
“We could never go wrong with a good steak.”
“Unsurprising,” she remarked with a roll of her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a predator in every way.”
I didn’t miss the insinuation of her explanation. There was an underlying jab there, straight at the fact that I am a predator of her ‘innocent’ humans.
“Careful there,” I warned jokingly. “You’re treading close to home.”
She shrugged then said, “Mine is ice cream.”
“Sweet tooth?” I asked, my forkful of noodles raised halfway to my mouth.
“I don’t particularly care much about sweets. Just ice cream. The ones with nuts especially.”
“Duly noted,” I said with a wink, before finally bringing the forkful of noodles into my mouth.
“Your turn.”
I lifted a finger, trying to ask her for a moment as I continued to chew. It was after the food slid down my throat that I said, “Any hobbies?”
“Art. I mean… I paint, but I also draw.”
Huh. That seemed to suit Willa well. After all, she seemed to be a work of art herself.
“Do you prefer painting over drawing?”
A subtle excitement vibrated off of her as she answered, “I do, and I also love gardening. I have this small and private garden back in my family’s estate, and I love it. I wish I had more space though.”
I nodded.
“What’s that look?”
I stare at her quizzically. “What look?”
“That look. You seem to be plotting something.” She squinted her eyes a little in mild suspicion and said, “No, you ARE plotting something. What is it? Spit it out.”
“A greenhouse,” I answered casually, twirling more noodles around my fork. “For you. In our own home in the near future.”
“Oh. That’s…”
“Sweet of me?” I finished for her with a smirk. “I know. You don’t have to tell me.”
“You know, you have a knack for ruining the moment.”
“Sweetheart, I am the moment. It will never get boring when you are with me.”
“Debatable.”
“And yet, you are smiling.”
Her smile dropped instantaneously, leaving her face carefully impassive. “Just tell me your hobbies.”
“Reading.”
A disbelieving snort erupted from her, causing her to lift a hand to cover the lower half of her face. “You read?”
Her tone rang with incredulity, but I refused to get offended. I was well-aware I didn’t seem to be the type. Nearly everybody who didn’t really know me had raised a brow every time they caught me with a fucking book in my hand.
“I do. About all sorts of things. This,” I pointed to my temple, “is not empty. I can’t be all face and hot bod. Personality and smarts are important too.”
“But so far, you’re failing the personality part.”
My lips parted, ready to protest over her remark, but she quickly added, “Still, I can’t believe you read.”
“You are acting like it is so hard to accept. Just be thankful that at least you aren’t stuck with an idiot for the rest of your life.”
Willa shrugged, still looking at me with a hint of disbelief, as though she couldn’t even imagine me with a book in hand. “You just don’t seem the type. That’s all.”
“I am full of surprises, sweetheart. To keep you on your toes.”
“Whatever you say, Han,” she said indulgently, as if she was talking to a toddler.
“You-” I stopped myself before I could fully slip out my indignation. My shoulders sagged, letting the tension fizzle out of my frame, as I let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. Your turn.”
I feigned to not have noticed her small smirk and the mirth dancing in her pretty eyes. She knew she was able to get a rise out of me.
“Age. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. You?”
“Twenty-one. We’re still pretty young.”
Her quiet voice had me replying in the same volume. “We are.”
It was apparent what was left unsaid—the weight hanging silently on the word, ‘young.’
‘But we are already soldiers of this war.’
She didn’t have to say it out loud for me. I already knew.