Get To Know Me Questions Novels & Stories

Dennis said. "Well, I can still memorise your favourite colour, your best meal and hobbies. We've talked about that the other day right?" replied Kelsey. Dennis nodded and ran his left hand through his hair. "I'm not sure if they'll be asking you such cheap questions." "Cheap questions?" "Yes," Dennis replied and went on. "They may want to know how we met, maybe ask about your family, your childhood and other stuff you know? Maybe ask about my favourite music, what my mood is like and the rest."

And with each new discovery, I feel the confidence to press even further. I dare to ask him questions. “What’s your favorite color? And what do you do with your days? “ The questions start to fill the better half of the page. Each one is out of genuine curiosity. I want to know. I want to understand him better. Who are you? What are you like? What do you like to do? Are you happy? Whatever I can, I want to learn. Even if it’s the smallest thing ever- I need to know. Upon ending the letter, I have to remark on his drawing. I try to compliment his dog?/Bear./ Animal?

“Uh oh. Let’s hear it.” “I feel like there’s a lot about you I don’t know these days. And I want to fix that. So why don’t we play a game of twenty questions.” He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. “I get to ask you things too?” “Yeah, of course.” “Okay then. Deal.” I grin, pleased with the success. “Okay, tell me about your travels.” “That’s not a question,” he points out. I stick my tongue out at him. “What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been to?”

This didn't seem like the position for such serious discussion, but who's making the rules? He pushed my hair out of my face. "I'm interested in you." I nodded. "I know. You make it very obvious." He gave me a small smile. "I want to know you. I want to know the little things. Your hobbies, your habits, your favourite food and colours. If you're a morning person or not. Hell, I even want to know if you add milk to cereal or cereal to milk. Everything about you, nothing is unimportant." I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. For a moment, I didn't speak. I had the answers to his questions, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything because no one had ever paid this much attention to me. At lea

"What's this Camille? A fucking interview?" He was always so serious. "It's a game. Twenty one questions. I ask questions because I want to know you." "You know me," he grumbled, grabbing a plate of pasta and settled in bed beside me. "Now open up. You have to eat." "Oh come on, Gav," I groaned. "There has to be things I don't know about you. Well aside the size of your dick." He chuckled. "What else do you want to know? The size of my feet?"

he stutters, clearly thrown off by my answer. “It’s okay, most people don’t know how to respond. So, what kind of hobbies do you have?” I ask, expecting a long list of boating, mountain climbing, rafting, ect. Instead, I’m hit with a whole lot of silence. “Do you have any?” I chuckle. “I don’t think it should be this difficult to come up with something.” “How about you go first? What do you like to do?” he replies, daring me to do better.

The women laugh so I do as agreed and close my eyes, I reach out my hand and point my finger and move it from side to side and stop when I think I should and that person will ask the question, when my arm freezes in place I open my eyes and am faced with one of my cousins and she celebrates with a shrug that she will be the one asking the question. "Where did the bride and groom meet?" my cousin asks, and my sister rolls her eyes at the ease of the question. "At work" my friend replies without even thinking. She actually made a list of possible questions and had me answer them all by video call when I told them the dynamics of the game, they all peppered me with questions until I was full fr

I was highly skeptical. I left Haven’s office, trying to keep all an open mind, but desperate to ask a million questions. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to check out the questionnaire website. I created a profile and answered the basic questions, age, hair and eye color, race, height and weight, etc. Next was actually a series of pictures of clothing asking about my preference for dress length, showing cleavage, etc. I had to fill in my measurements, which I didn’t even know so I had to dig around for a measuring tape.

I smiled a faint smile and hated what I was about to do. "Who are you please?" "What's your relationship with the family?" "Can you tell us what happened here last night?" "Was there any casualties?" "Why is mr Chase not here himself?" They all Immediately started throwing question at me, I didn't even know where to begin. I gave them little reply and just wanted to go inside already.

Me: Who are you and how did you get my number I got an instant reply. Unknown: My identity is not important. How I got your number is also not important. Are you interested in knowing what it Is? What is it that he can possibly know about me? I thought to myself before texting my reply. Me: What is it? Unknown: I'll only give out the information on two conditions. If he's going to make demands then I don't think I want to know. I mean, what could be so important? I asked myself, frowning.