The Popstar's Star

Chapter 6: Cocky doesn't go with cute

Mason McKnight, pop sensation and platinum-record selling artiste, was splayed on my couch, eating my popcorn, and for the life of me I did not know what he was doing in my house!

He chuckled at something that was being said in the comedy showing on the flat screen, just as he threw a heap of popcorn into his mouth.

The nerve!  A sinister part of me wished he choked on it, and I almost thought he did when his face contorted into a look of disgust as he chewed.

"This tastes awful." Mason grimaced.

I rolled my eyes at him, placing my hands on my hips. "It's low-fat, low sugar popcorn. What do you expect?"

Mason raised his brows questioningly at me before he placed the bowl beside him on the sofa and resumed watching the comedy like nothing happened.

It was the shock more than anything that had me glued to the spot with my mouth hung open, instead of calling him out about what the hell he was doing in my house!

As if reading my thoughts, Mason glanced up at me, a lopsided grin playing at his lips. "Are you just going to stand there looking pretty?"

I was about to give a good piece of my mind, but my legs overtook me and I found myself walking over to the sofa. With a huff, I settled down right next to him, but he hardly seemed to notice as his attention was permanently locked on the screen. I took a side glance in his direction, which then turned to gawking at him. Mason's all-black ensemble made him look like a burglar.

Yeah, a burglar I had willingly let into my house. But to be fair to myself, he did let himself in.

"Do you mind telling me, what the hell you're doing in my house?" I asked vehemently, nearly jumping out of my seat.

He seemed to think about the question, or so I thought. "Got any ice-cream?"

"What?" Before I could even process his question, he was up and headed for the archway leading to the hall.

I followed closely behind him, hurling profanities his way until he entered the kitchen and opened the double-door refrigerator.

"What are you looking for?"

"I already told you? Ice-cream," He stated, opening the mini-doors inside the fridge that lead to smaller compartments.

I sat on a barstool on the end of the island and propped my hand under my chin, allowing him to take his jolly time, and I was getting amused by the second. No way was I going to tell him that there wasn't  any ice-cream. No, he would find that out by himself but not before landing into a pile of exhaustion.

Mason started taking out some of the contents in the fridge, which were mostly vegetables and fruits, and then put them on top of the counter. "Why do you guys eat all this stuff?"

"It's called eating healthy," I countered.

Mason scoffed. "No, it's called starvation."

Letting out a sigh, I decided that I there was no use arguing with him. And after he nearly took out the entire fridge, I thought it was time to put him out of his misery.

"There is no ice-cream," I blurted out, earning a glare from him as he slammed down a bunch of celery. I had to stifle a laugh at the look on his face.

"Why didn't you just say so earlier?" he said through gritted teeth. "Wasting my time going through your refrigerator, is not how I like to spend my Friday night."