Just then, he suddenly turned his head.
"Wanna go shopping?"
She snapped her eyes wide open, completely in disbelief.
"You? Like walking around malls?"
He cleared his throat, lifted his hand to cover his mouth, his gaze evasive—he looked a bit uncomfortable.
"I heard from others... Dating is supposed to be like this: eat together, shop together, watch movies, then... hold hands going home."
"You... never dated before?"
In her mind, Tristan Sterling, born into a wealthy family, good-looking, social status through the roof—his side was always full of girls, girlfriends swapped faster than the seasonal winds.
Every now and then, the media would catch pictures of him at events beside various companions.
She'd always assumed he was numb to feelings, just going through the motions.
When he heard this, he straightened up, his expression calm, his tone casual.
"Yeah, dated—several a day, like peeling off sticky notes."
Vivian Sinclair: "..."
