Chapter 5 If Walls Could Talk

Alana's POV

Do you ever miss the happy days?

You know, the younger ones.

Where you never had to make a choice and that was okay with you?

Where laughter was frequent and blue times few?

I mean I never had those times but . . .

I miss that time when I never had to wear a bra.

I giggle at my thought while sitting in the office gathering the ingredient requests from the chefs so I can go shopping.

Stepping out, I collide with a wall and wonder when I had that added.

"Oww. . ." I mutter rubbing my forehead.

"Oops, I'm sorry, are you alright?"

Great.

This wall talks too.

Nodding at the talking wall, I was about to ask it how it got here when I noticed it had a suit on. Looking up, instead of finding bricks, I find a handsome face that was tainted by worry.

Aiden.

"It just had to be you. Why couldn't it be a wall." I mutter and he raises an eyebrow.

"Going out?"

"Yes."

"Where to?"

"The grocery store." I sigh dryly.

"Can I come with?" He asks and I nearly choked myself right there and then.

"Even if I said no, would you not follow me?"

He chuckles and steps aside, "Lead the way."

We walk together and I wave kindly at my employees.

I begin walking to the supermarket not too far from here and he follows along.

"Have you thought about my offer?"

"Yes." I shrug.

"So? What's your answer?"

"I'll take it. But. . . I have some conditions . ." I drawl and he nods. "I'll tell you back at the office."

When we get to the store, I happily step in. I love the scent of the AC and the feeling it gives if you leave your mouth open too long.

Weird.

I know.

"I have two, lists," I tell him, shoving one into his chest. "Make yourself useful."

I walk off leaving him to struggle, and hum lost boy by Ruth b to myself as I walk through the isles.

"Done." He comes backdropping the list into my cart and simply stares at me smugly.

"What?" I eye the contents of his carts and sure enough, everything's there."How in the world. . ."

"My mom makes me shop for her. I got used to it."

"Momma's boy huh?" I snort and he rolls his eyes.

"Something wrong with that sunflower?"

I freeze at the name and raise an eyebrow at him.

Only George calls me sunflower.

"You're always wearing a clothing item that's yellow, your office theme is yellow and so are your fingernails."

"Very observant." I snort and he winks.

"It's what got me my company in the first place."

"Charming," I mutter sarcastically while staring at the vegetables. There was this one that looked oddly shaped.

"What's your story?" He asks after a while, helping me with my list.

"My story?" I grunt and he nods.

"Yea. . . you're so nice and warm in the pastry but then out here you're all. . . down to earth. Is it all a fa?ade?"

I sigh, staring at him, "That pastry shop, is my life. Its where I'm happy. When I'm out here, its just the world. I have nothing good to look forward to in this messed up world." I whisper the last part and avert my eyes picking out some apples.

"What's your favorite pastry treat?" He asks out of nowhere and I raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You heard me." He smirks crossing his arms and I smile a little, clearly amused.

"I like chocolate so... Maybe the cupcakes."

"Maybe?"

"I don't know okay everything chocolate just tastes so good." Moaning at the thought, I don't miss the way he averts his eyes, clearing his throat.

"Including you?" He says in all seriousness and I slap his arm. "Ouch woman. I was joking."

"How about you, what's your story?" I ask him after a while and he takes in a breath.

"I was adopted when I was fifteen...Moved here and everything. My mom was a druggie and my dad was abusive. I think you know how it goes." I honestly didn't expect that. Is he this open with every stranger he meets? "When I was eighteen, I decided to observe our mentality, which is how I came up with the idea of my company. We, humans, like things easy, done for us, compact. Why not give it to them?"

"What if I was some twisted woman who decided to use all of this against you?" I asked him.

People trust way too easily nowadays.

"But you won't will you? You have a past of your own. Everyone else may not see it. But I do. You're hiding something, Alana. A scar. A skeleton in the closet. You know you can relate to my story, so don't worry. I know who I can . . . and cannot trust." We approach check out and all I could do was avoid eye contact.

"I'm not hiding anything." I lie and my voice wavered.

"Okay, Alana." He deadpans, flicking his wrist. "You're not lying to me. . . you're lying to yourself."

"Gosh, who exactly do you think you are?" I snap, irritated.

"I'm the man, who's going to treat you right." He winks before leaving and I gape.

"Excuse me?! I'll have you know you're not going to have a proper status with me so you can 'treat me right'!" I yell mocking at his retreating form and everyone looks at me.

"What?!" I yell at them and they all return to their business.