IX. The unexpected visitor

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Cara

Ivan stood tall at my doorstep, staring right at me, his expression unreadable.

"Ivan? What are you doing here?" I asked, proceeding towards him. I can't say a part of me wasn't happy that he was here. Admittedly, I was elated to see him again. Question is, how the hell did he know my address? Perhaps Jasper told him.

I was standing a few feet away from him, his large form between me and the door.

He spoke huskily, his voice like a drug, addictive and intoxicating, " I came to apologise for not being able to bring you home yesterday." That seriously could not have been his reason for coming all this way.

"I don't believe you. You came all this way...just for that?" He visibly stiffened. I knew then that that was not his only reason for coming. Maybe he wants his hoodie back.

"I-I wanted to see you again...to see if you were feeling better." He moved out of the way as I pulled out the house keys from my bag. Fumbling with the keys,I searched for the right key then opened the door.

"Oh...I am much better. It was only a minor head injury. The scar is barely noticeable. See." I moved my hair out of the way showing him the rapidly healing scar on my forehead. I saw his hand twitch as if he wanted to touch the scar but he did not."Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes. " He came into the house. He looked around. I put down my bag right there on the floor and shut the door.

"I'm making a sandwich...want one?"

"Sure," he replied, looking at me. His eyes never left mine, not even once. He followed me into the kitchen, his loud footsteps echoing through the house.

He sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. I felt his intense stare burning right through me as I made the sandwiches. The way he looked at me, it was as if I was the most fascinating thing in the world doing the most fascinating action in the world, making a freaking sandwich.

"So, you like to cook?" He asked.

"Yeah...I don't really have a choice l, my dad's an awful cook. He somehow manages to burn and undercook anything at the same time." He chuckled deeply.

I passed him a plate with a sandwich and a glass of orange juice to wash it down then took a seat next to him. He took a small bit of the sandwich and ate more and more of it.

He was in awe of a simple sandwich. Or perhaps I am just a terrific cook.

"That was absolutely scrumptious. Thank you...so, what else do you make other than fantastic sandwiches?"

I put away the plates and continued to talk with Ivan, telling him just how good a cook I am. But I did not want to seem boastful.

"Do you cook?"

"No...but I would be happy to learn. Perhaps you can even teach me, Cara."

"Perhaps." I leaned closer to him. Everything about him drew me in, like a moth to a fire.

We ended up talking about all sorts of things. He was more open than the first time we met. He wasn't unreadable and stiff but open and free. I could tell he was not at all used to this.

"...And that's how I got this scar." I showed him the scar just below my left shoulder that I had gotten when my cousin got a bit careless with the knives. He surprised me by reaching out behind me and touching it. I shivered under his soft touch. He was gentle and soft on my skin as he traced around the scar.

I was startled by a low growl coming from behind me. I was even more startled when I felt something more than just his touch in my skin, his lips on my skin. My body abruptly quivered as his lips pressed against the scar.

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