The Girl Who Hates Valentine's Day - Chapter #7 - Free To Read

Angela’s fingers hovered over the doorbell before she finally pressed it. Her heart pounded in her chest.

What if Mia was right? What if she was about to walk into something she wasn’t prepared for?

She shook the thoughts away. She needed answers.

She rang the doorbell again.

The door swung open, and her breath hitched.

Eric stood there, shirtless, his toned chest on full display. His dark hair was slightly messy like he had just woken up—or maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been alone.

His brows lifted in surprise. “Angela?”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “I—uh—I was going to text you first, but then I realized…” She hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish. “I don’t have your number.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk. “I have yours.”

Angela’s brows furrowed. “Of course, you do.”

Eric leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with amusement. “I take it this isn’t a coincidence?”

She squared her shoulders. “Can I come in?”

He hesitated—just for a second—but then stepped aside, allowing her in.

The moment she stepped inside, her eyes darted around the apartment, half-expecting another woman to walk out from the bedroom. The place was sleek, modern, and smelled faintly of cedarwood and something distinctly masculine.

Eric closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Angela turned to face him. “You’re not going to ask why I suddenly showed up at your door?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I already know why.”

That threw her off. “You do?”

His dark eyes locked onto hers. “You’re here to give me an answer.”

Her stomach twisted. She had been so focused on proving Mia wrong that she had completely forgotten about his question. The flowers. The note. Be mine?

“I—” she started, but the words caught in her throat.

Eric tilted his head, waiting. “Do you need some convincing?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something unreadable.

Angela exhaled. “You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

His lips curled into that damn smirk again. “Not really. I just have a feeling.”

Before she could respond, he pushed away from the door. “Come on. You look like you haven’t eaten. Let me make you something.”

Angela blinked. “You cook?”

“I do a lot of things,” he said smoothly, already leading her toward the kitchen.

She followed, still trying to get a read on him.

The kitchen was sleek and modern, much like the rest of the apartment. Eric moved around with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients.

She leaned against the counter, watching him. “You never answered my question.”

He glanced at her. “Which one?”

“Why aren’t you surprised that I showed up?”

He chuckled as he grabbed a pan. “Because I knew you would.”

Angela crossed her arms. “You knew I’d just randomly show up at your door unannounced?”

“I wouldn’t call it random,” he said, pouring oil into the pan. “You’re the kind of person who needs answers. You don’t like uncertainty.” He glanced at her, his dark eyes piercing. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Her breath caught.

Eric turned back to the stove, acting like he hadn’t just read her mind.

She swallowed hard. “You’re awfully confident about how well you know me.”

“I know enough,” he said simply.

Angela watched as he worked, the rhythmic sound of chopping filling the space. She didn’t know why, but the sight of him cooking for her made something warm bloom in her chest.

Minutes later, he placed a plate in front of her. “Eat.”

Angela hesitated before picking up the fork. The first bite made her pause.

“Holy—” She blinked at him. “This is really good.”

Eric smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As she ate, he leaned against the counter, watching her. The silence between them was thick, charged with something unspoken.

Then he broke it.

“So?” His voice was low, steady. “What’s your answer?”

Angela froze mid-bite.

He was still watching her, unwavering, as if he could see straight into her thoughts.

She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. Was she ready for this? Did she want this?

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the doorbell rang.

The sound shattered the moment.