LCTM Chapter 5

    I slipped through the unlocked door, hunched, ready to be scolded by Ms. Nemui for disturbing the boarding house at such late hours. It was 2:00 AM. Okay, so I did more than go to Chinese class. Shang (the bastard) convinced me to go have a burger, after our classes ended at ten. Then, with that winning smile of his, we went for a drink; which turned out to be ten on his part, three on mine. The bugger...

    But of all the things that night, I was most surprised by Ms. Nemui. She greeted me sleepishly from her seat in the kitchen watching T.V. She noticed I was in, and smiled wearily at me.

    "Hello Zoë. Your cats are waiting for you. Been howling all night. Cute little things."

    "Uh, right. Thanks Ms. Nemui." I smiled and left the insomniac to her television.

    Upon entering my room, four pairs of feline eyes wearily eyed me from the table, and then promptly fell asleep.

    I set my pack by the door and undressed into my night-shirt in the dark. I quickly slipped under the covers of my futon and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow with the lingering though of: Shang, you're too good looking for your own good...

    "Damn..." I said in a high, but soft shrill as response to my alarm clock's summons. God I hated the thing. Every time it went off it said, " Get up you lazy wanker..." but today it was saying more. Like: "You'll never have a chance with him." And other such niceties. I really needed to lay off the foreign drinks for a while.

    Okay, so maybe I was developing an attraction to him. Oh, right, I barely know him. well, dears, people discuss a lot in four hours, especially when over more than a couple drinks.

    After about a few stumbles, one banged elbow, and two aspirin alter, I slid downstairs. Three steps from the bottom one, I tripped on the cats swarming around my feet.

    "Dammit!" I shrieked, lapsing into my usual English, and fell,...strait into the arms of Shang Liu.

    "Cats, the little buggers eh?" he said smiling down at me.

    Aw darn, I thought, he's doing that again.

    I straitened up quickly, and asked, "What are you doing here?"

    "Love you too. C'mon, I'm taking you out for breakfast. Why are you staring at me like that?" He said after he noticed my usual hangover/just woke up stare. At that moment, it was both.

    "Never mind. Let's go," I said as I readjusted my pack, slipped cat-food into Reika's hand, and walked past him, out the door.

     Mc Donald's. he bloody chose bloody Mc bloody Donald's. but I didn't notice from my spot in the passenger's seat. my head resting in my palm, supported by my elbow, which was propped up on the window; my eyes closed tightly.

    "You sure don't take hangovers well."

    "Shut-up. Just shut-up."

    Okay, I'll admit it, not the best way to get a guy, but I got exactly four hours of sleep, and had a hangover; would you have done anything different?

    "What do you want?" he asked as he pulled his sleek, black jeep into park.

    "Two hash browns, and a coffee."

    "You should eat more."

    "No thanks."

    "Humph."

    I suppose I fell asleep. Because all I remember is Shane purring into my ear with a nice Barry White sexvoice: "Wake-up Zoë."

    I slept the whole ride to the office. And apparently, he had carried me, my pack, and my breakfast up to our thirteenth level office. How chivalrous eh?

    "Aye chico, I didn't order all of this."

    "You need to eat more."

    Sigh. "Fine."

    Best way to a woman's heart. Through her stomach. Well, mine anyways. I'm not much of a breakfasty person, but I do like chocolate muffins, and Shang got plenty. He was even nice enough to sit with me on the floor while I ate. What a guy.

    "Uh, Zoë?"

    "Hmmm?"

    He cleared his throat. "Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

    I choked on my coffee. Him, asking me for a date.

    "It's with my cousins and a few friends at my place tomorrow night."

    I knew it was too good to be true. "Sure," I told him, and scrunched up my trash. Three-pointer, Zoë McClain. I should have been a basketball player, I thought. Except for the fact that I liked soccer far better, and was too short for anything requiring height of the slightest degree. my 5'1/2" stature just didn't measure up in the great game of height. 'Scuse the pun.

    "Great, I'll pick you up at seven," he smiled his dreamy smile that must have broken a thousand hearts before mine came along.

    Make that a good-looking bastard...