NovelBookChapter 126 "Mr. Collins, huh?" Deborah turned her gaze toward Ernest, "Is that cool with you, Mr. Collins?" I was bracing for Ernest to give her a piece of his mind, but instead, he just said, "If she's up for it, sure." T was speechless.
I felt a pinch on my arm; Deborah was givinga series of frantic winks, clearly smelling s brewing.
Was Ernest really looking to stir the pot? His casual comment had thrownoff.
Determined not to give Deborah the spectacle she was craving, I replied with a slight smile, "I'm not short on cash, so no thanks." "Felicia..." Ernest just looked over, silent.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtDuring breakfast, my phone rang. It was my landlady next door. Assuming she had sorted things out, I answered, "Hey..." "Felicia, I'm so sorry to bother you this early," she began, all politeness.
"It's no trouble, go ahead," I said, sipping on my soy milk.
"That rental issue we discussed, I talked to the guy, but he won't budge. Not even compensation would do, so..." Her words hinted at something familiar, echoing a conversation I seemed to have heard before.
"Felicia, don't you worry about a thing. I've checked this guy out. He's got no criminal record or bad habits, and he's quite the looker. Plus, he used to be a..." She was cut off as Ernest called out to me.
"Ms. Hudson, can I have that fried egg?" Ernest pointed at the sunny-side-up egg on my plate.
I froze, so much that I missed whatever else my landlady was saying, and ended up just agreeing with her before hanging up to face Ernest.
"If you'd rather not, it's fine," he said, turning his attention back to peeling a hard-boiled egg.
"Mr. Collins, you can have my fried egg," Deborah, ever the eager beaver, chimed in, ready to hand over her own plate.
"No, I've lost my appetite," Ernest coldly declined.
I remained silent, watching him gobble down the hard-boiled egg, feeling a lump in my throat from just the sight. And I had this nagging feeling that it wasn't really the fried egg he wanted.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmSo why did he ask for mine? Before I could puzzle it out, Ernest was done with his meal, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder, "Enjoy your breakfast, I've got to go." Deborah watched him leave, then turned to me, "Felicia, he didn't want just any fried egg. He wanted yours." "What, is mine laced with the elixir of life?" I joked, picking up my fork, and taking a bite.
"Felicia, Mr. Collins is into you," Deborah's revelation hadchoking.
After coughing and taking a sip of my soy milk, I asked, "All because he wanted my fried egg?" "It's not just that. It's the way he acts around you, the looks he gives you, and even..." Deborah trailed off, clicking her tongue, "I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's definitely a spark." I wasn't a naive teenager to miss the signs.
From the moment Ernest bluntly mentioned marriage; I sensed his ver interest But his subsequent actions madedoubt my intuition, yet the events from last night to this morning seemed to suggest he had sintentions toward me.
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"So what if he does? I've already said I'm not interested," I retorted, only to notice a figure looming over the table. Looking up, Ernest had returned, his gaze fixed directly on me.
The awkwardness made my fingers curl up, and Deborah, similarly taken aback, attempted to shift the topic, NO "How did Mr. Collins cback? We were just discussing Felicia's ex-fiancé, she was saying... "I heard," Ernest cut her off, his eyes still on me.
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