As I laughed into my hand, tears were coming out of my eyes uncontrollably, while my stomach was starting to ache.

All I can think about is how tired I am, so tired that I'm laughing at a genuine question that Chopard is asking.

Why would he ask this question in the middle of the night? I have no idea, and that's saying something.

When someone asks something or says something that they think is so innovative that they have to share it with me, I always know what their intention is. No matter what their intention is, good or bad, I always know.

I can read people clearly, it's almost like a superpower but instead of "taking down evil", I instead use it to my advantage.

People might be saying it's bad that I use people for my personal growth or advantages, but I think it's a blessing in disguise. Just thinking about it, why not take the opportunity to get the upper hand when someone else is trying to cutthroat you?

I gain something without working hard towards it.

A win-win for me, and a loss for the other person.

But what Chopard asked, I can't decide why he would ask that, in the dark of night out of all times.

Maybe because he generally wants to know if we can go sightseeing, and can't wait for the meeting to end and we have nothing left to do, and if I respond to his question now, then he would want to look forward to it.

Or maybe, he's trying to keep me awake and distract me from focusing on the this important meeting, yeah yeah, that's it–He's trying to keep me up so that I would not have to sleep at all, and that way, I would be so tired and exhausted to even concentrate in the meeting room.

And If that happens, I would lose the possible gain that would help me and my company jumpstart to greater length, and I would leave New York with a loss.

Chopard thinks he's one step ahead of me, but I'm many steps ahead of him.

All this thinking is just making me more tired than ever and I really need to go to sleep.

What Chopard was asking wasn't even funny, I don't know why I busted out laughing.

I might be losing my mind.

Yeah–I'm losing it for sure.

"We just need to sleep then" Chopard responds as he whispers.

Shit, I thought, did I say that out loud? I mean, I was sure that I was thinking it in my head.

"Yeah" I respond, not really giving an effort to say anything more.

I yawned as I stared up at the bland ceiling, my eyes fighting to stay awake and go to sleep at the same time, almost like I want to pull an all-nighter and hear the soft breathing of the man next to me, feeling the warmth and comfort he provides with his presence.

But at the same time, I want to fall asleep, I want to fall asleep to the comfort that Chopard is right besides me in this bed and going to sleep happily knowing he will be here in the morning–

I stop that thought out of embarrassment, what the hell am I even thinking? I just need to stop thinking altogether.

As I quickly rubbed my forehead out of habit, I returned to just thinking about nothing as I stared up at the ceiling–I took a quick glance at Chopard, just to see if he's asleep so that I can finally relax and he's not.

He's staring up at the ceiling as well, his silhouette giving it away. I wonder what he's thinking about–probably thinking about ways to sabbage the meeting, and making it look like it's not his fault.

Yeah–That sounds about right.

I look back up the ceiling as well, I should probably say something, anything to stop my mind from racing and thinking random thoughts that are probably going to keep me up.

I quietly say, "We should probably go to sleep"

I said the suggestion so quietly that my lips didn't hardly move, I said it so quietly that I thought I would have to say it again, maybe because Chopard didn't hear it, even in the darkness of the room, where we can only hear each other's quiet yet subtle breathing.

I didn't hear a response, and for a second I thought that I would have to repeat myself, but instead, I feel Chopard moving next to me, as he groans, the bed shifts as I assume that he's getting into another position.

Maybe he heard my suggestion and actually went to a comfortable position to sleep.

How rude, he would just ignore me and go off to sleep–I'll let it pass anyway, I know that we are both extremely tired, and need as much sleep as possible.

I know I do, from the way I've been acting and the thoughts that have been popping into my head, I definitely need it.

Just when I'm about to roll over on my stomach, I feel something on my cheek faintly, it feels like air going on and off my cheek.

Then I realized that Chopard had rolled over to his side, facing me–He's so close that I can hear his breathing and his breathing bouncing on my cheek as I stay still, facing the ceiling.

It's fine, I tell myself, I will just go to sleep and forget about this whole night–

"I don't want to though" He say quietly.

I stop breathing altogether as my mind goes blank, not knowing what to say next, only asking, "Why?"

Now that I think about it, this meeting that I've been stressing over isn't really that big of a deal. That's saying a lot, knowing that I have been preparing myself for this meeting to go perfectly and smoothly.

After all, this meeting isn't going to make me lose anything, it's only going to help me gain something.

The stress and the tension for this meeting slowly slips out of my mind as I finally relax, my palm unclenches as I secretly rub my sweaty palms on the sheets. I smooth out my breathing as I wait for Chopard to respond.

And so he does, with something that shocks me to my core, "I–I just want to stare at your pretty face"

My eyes go wide and my brain turns into a mash potato mess as things are not adding up.

First of all, what the fuck. This is so out of nowhere, this is a zone where I don't know how to respond and don't know how to act. And plus, this is all of a sudden, why now?

Second, last time I checked, Chopard didn't have night vision mode implanted into his brain, and if he did, that would be a whole separate problem.

But he doesn't, so why on earth would he say that he wants to stare at me, in the dark. There is no hint of light in this room, except for under the closed bedroom door, leading to the living room where the light is on in there.

The logic of his statement is not making sense. Hell, it's not even in the room with us.

Not knowing how to respond to that, I slowly sat up as I reached for the lamp on the bedside table to turn it on.

All while at the same time I do so, I hear Chopard burst out laughing beside me–That laughered is soon mumbled as he pulls his hand over his hand, trying to quiet it down as he still continues to laugh in his hand.

As I adjusted my eyes quickly to the light, I rubbed my eyes as this thing put me in a whole frantic state.

I mean, I would assume he was joking about what he said. It is kind of childish to do so, even as a grown adult in the middle of the night.

It's like he made a joke about it.

I don't really care about the criticism regarding my beauty or appearance from many people from the outside looking inward. A person's appearance would only take someone so far, except for being a model.

A person's thoughts about me don't pay my mortgage or help me with my company–No, it only does the opposite–I take people's rude and disgusting things that have been said about me and use it to motivate me to achieve more.

More than they can ever have in their lifetime or in their family line.

Many people judge me for my actions or the things that they have heard about me from past employees, and yes, some may be true or a lie, that doesn't matter, all long if it's not affecting my brand.

But my appearance is a whole different territory for me.

Not looking at Chopard or particularly anywhere for that matter. He stayed laying down in the bed, getting out his last laugh as he tried to apologize, I guess.

"I'm so sorry Ms.Cantrell, I guess I'm very tired tonight, I haven't been this tired in forever and I don't randomly say these things" 

His apology goes deaf in my ears as my mind tries to remender a time where I was actually called 'pretty'.

I know I shouldn't be thinking about this, it's not relevant to the things that are going on in my life right now, it's not important.

But, in the back of my mind, I always wonder how I am viewed by other people, without the whole CEO thing and the business I work hard for. I just want to know how my appearance is viewed.

Do I like nice to talk to on the streets? What if I seem scary to approach?

I mean, the only person that called me beautiful or pretty was my mom and relatives, but that doesn't really count, in my eyes at least.

I guess I was in such a deep thought that I didn't notice Chopard was sitting up in the bed with me, I just looked in the corner of my eyes as I noticed him there.

Startled on the inside, but motionless on the outside, I didn't give him much of a reaction.

He starts to speak again, "Listen, I didn't really mean to laugh, I just–"

Then for some reason, I guess I was thinking about this so much that my mouth became its own boss, spilling out words without a second thought or a care in the world.

"I can't...remember the last time I was called pretty" I quietly said, immediately regretting that I ever opened my mouth.

But I can't help but wonder, maybe it's because of my personality, I mean I know some people say that your appearance is the start, and your personality only highlights your beauty. So maybe it's that.

Or what if people are actually scared of me, terrified, if you will. The persona that made the image I'm known for, and my power what I have gained.

What if people are afraid of the things I will do to them because of the influential power I have, maybe people don't even want to approach me because of that.

Which, don't get me wrong, I'm fine with people fearing me because of the power. But my heart still aches deeply inside.

That the male species doesn't find me attractive.

Well, most of the male species look like they crawl on earth from other planets anyways.

So that doesn't really affect me as much as the general public, but it still burns.

Then suddenly, I feel a large hand caressing my cheek. I didn't suspect it, my face remains emotionless while my soul does a complete jumpscare, making my heart race so fast that I could compete in the formula one races.

Normally, I wouldn't even let anyone touch my face, so many germs and who knows where people's hands have been in or been touching.

But I let this one pass, I mean, I guess I was thinking so much that Chopard wanted to get my attention and–

His hand carefully urged my head to turn towards him, making me face him, seeing him clearly with the help of the lamp.

Seeing him more clearly is frightening right now, he's so–beautiful, not handsome (it doesn't fit right with him). His green eyes glow as they are a different shade of green, just like when the sun hits brown eyes, it's like that, the same effect of beautiful.

I can't look away now, I don't want to look away ever, not from those eyes. They are capturing, trapping the person that even glances at them.

Just like Medusa and her snake head, but instead of turning into stone, I instead can't look away, even if I want to.

They look so much more real than from my daydream in the bathroom.

His eyes are now dilated and I don't know how to feel about that.

I know I just been thinking about his eyes, but his face only adds to the little resistance I have to look away.

God, I can't even get started on his god-like beautiful face.

I mean, I could, I can rewrite the whole declaration of independence with only describing his face, it would probably only take days to read and–

"Stop thinking" Chopard unexpectedly said.

And for once–for the first time in my life, I am able to listen to someone tell me what to do. I'm able to stop thinking about everything.

My mind is empty without my thoughts, it's scary but at the same time, I am at ease because of the man holding my face with his one hand.

I don't make a motion to remove his hand from my face, he can have his hand on my face for as long as he wants and it won't bother me in the slightest way.

Thinking about the simple yet daring request that he made about my overthinking, I can't help but bite back, I rolled my eyes playfully, a smug appearing on my face.

"Who's going to do all the thinking? You?" I questioned, wanting to challenge him to see what he's going to say back.

But instead of saying anything, he remains silent, in fact–he keeps the same expression whenever he tells me–or demands that I stop thinking.

Chopard makes a quiet move, uncovering his other hand from under the sheets and placing it on my other cheek.

My face is starting to burn up, I can't breath, move or think clearly and logically.

The only thoughts that are consuming my mind are Chopard.

I deeply breath out, trying to make sense of what is happening at this moment. Why can't I push his hands off my face? Why is my mind not working like it should?

I force the words out of my mouth, "What Chopard?"

Those two words are the only ones I can ever say at this moment, the rest are a miracle.

"You worked so, so hard" He said, "You need to relax"

I shake my head slightly, disagreeing with his idea. Why should I relax? I don't think I did enough in my career to deserve that relaxation.

I know I worked hard, I really did. But truth be told, everyone works hard, it's not just me–and some people have been through far worse things than me and they are still working, probably more than me.

Relaxing is a privilege, and I don't get that award yet. I don't deserve to kick my feet back or go on a vacation.

Some people may see me as getting everything I want in my career, but I don't know, it's just not enough, and I don't know when it will ever be enough for me.

Maybe I'm destined to work my whole life until I'm in the ground.

Counting on that miracle, I gather the strength to yet again force the words out of my mouth, "No–no, I can't" taking a moment to breathe and focus on my next words, "There's a lot to do and–and I can't stop now. I just can't–"

My stuttering gets cut off by a simple gesture, Chopard places his head against mine.

This act alone has made me motionless, my hands remain on the bed as my eyelids become too heavy to keep them open. I closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness, but also welcoming the warmth I've gained from the tender touch of his temple against mine.

Both of our faces are inches apart, forcing the both of us to take in each other's breaths.

"Will–" He hestiants, "Will you fire me for this?"

I don't know what he means, and I don't know what he's referring to, all I know is that my heart will gladly accept it.

"Liam..." I said, inching my face one centimeter closer, preparing for anything at this moment.

Feeling bad for Hailey in this moment but excited at the same time.

-Summer Roe