7~He dug up the old.

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Marie-Anne's POV

I knock on the door one more time waiting for it to open. "Hey," Tyler says awkwardly opening the door in his boxers. "Sorry, I thought you were the pizza I ordered like twenty minutes ago," he says opening the door wider for me to get in. I walk into his apartment and walk to the living room.

"So, you were going to answer the door like that to get pizza?" I ask pointing my index fingers on his hot body.

"Yeah, I don't think he would mind plus I look so hot right?" He asks jokingly. He is so full of himself sometimes. I don't answer him and look at his blank TV. He comes up from behind me and hugs me, "don't be jealous, you're hotter," he whispers in my ears. I shake my head and smile even though he couldn't see me. 

He turns me around so I could face him leaving our faces inches apart. He stares deeply into my brown eyes as I do the same. I trace his arm tatoo with my thumb, his tattoo is never visible at work because he always tries to hide it. It is simply a flower that covers half of his chest and his arm. I don't know the flower, but he says it's this flower that grows in his yard back in England.

His sister and he decided to get the tattoo once they were eighteen without their parent's permission. Their parents were furious, but they now have matching tatoos. He grabs my hands and stops me from tracing his tattoo. I look back into his eyes, his expression is intense. Before I have a chance to ask if he is okay, he closes the space that is between us and hungrily kisses me.  I kiss him back giving him full aceess, his mouth always tastes like candy. I wonder if he eats candy on a daily basis.

Someone knocks on the door causing him to pull away. Probably the pizza, I go over and sit on his sofa turning on his TV. "Sorry, I only ordered pepperoni, there's no pineapple," Tyler says entering the living room. "I know how you like pineapple pizza, even though it's disgusting," he adds.

"No, it isn't," I say. Pineapple pizza is the best, I don't get how some people hate it. It's like saying you hate chocolate, that would be a nightmare.

"Whatever you want to believe," he says placing the pizza box on his coffee table. I beat him to the chance and take a slice. He rolls his eyes getting up to go to the kitchen. "What do you want to drink?!" He yells from the kitchen. Why didn't he ask me that when he was sitting right next to me?

"Get me a beer!" I yell back. I switch the channels back and forth trying to find the right show to watch as I eat my pizza. I finally land on 'Law and Order: SVU' and leave it there. Tyler walks in the living room with two beers.

"You know I think you drink too much," he says taking a seat next to me.

"No, I don't," I say already drinking my beer. Maybe, I drink a little too much. Drinking helps me forget everything, it helps soothe me. It's not like I'm an alcoholic or something.

"Yes, you do. You were drinking at lunch this morning, next think you are going to do is show up to court drunk," he says.

"Why are you judging? Where you're from you practically drink with every meal," I snap.

"We do, but you're American and you are abusing the alcohol," he says.

"I am not," I say rolling my eyes at him. He sighs and raises his hands up in surrender. We continue eating in silence for a while, a very awkward silence; he knows I hate when he brings up my drinking, but he still does, why does he care? "Oh, I forgot to tell you why I really came here," I say remembering the real reason I did come to his house.

"Why?" He asks.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier, I promise Dylan won't bother you anymore," I tell him. Now that I think about it, I could have told him that over the phone.

"It's fine, I do not mind him bothering me, I can handle him."

"No, you can't," I tell him.

"Whatever you say," he says, "you don't think he's dangerous to you?" He asks staring into the TV as the theme song of 'Law and Order' plays.

"No, why would I?" I ask.

"Well probably because his mother attempted to kill you,"  he says looking at me. My face expression drops, I never told him what happened between Dylan and I, how the heck does he know that?

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I make it my business to know everyone I associate with," he says taking a sip of his beer.

"You dug up my past?" I ask. He is unbelievable if he wanted to know anything all he had to do was ask. I can't believe he would do that, he doesn't trust me.

"You don't trust me?" I ask.

"I do," he says.

"Then, why would you dig up my past to learn about things I would have told you if you simply asked?" I ask tears threating to fall. I shouldn't care if he trusts me or not, we're not dating, he doesn't have to trust me.

"Anne, let's be honest with each other, you would have never told me and I did it before I even knew you very well. It was the first case you were working and when I found out who the defense attorney was, I did my research. Trust me, I meant no harm, just wanted something I could use against you," He says now turned and staring at me.

"Whatever," I say rolling my eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time.

"Sweetheart, don't be mad at me," he says in his stupid accent. He knows I can't stay mad at him when he calls me sweetheart. It's just how it sounds on his lips, it's so sexy. He takes my beer bottle out of my hands and starts tickling me. We fall on the cold floor and he gets on top of me still tickling me.

"Okay fine, I'm not mad," I say between laughs.

"Thank you," he says kissing my cheek and getting off of me.


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