What's It Like to Be You?

09

CHAPTER NINE: BURGERS N' FRIES

The chandelier gradually dims out as the clock strikes eight. All spotlights are centered back towards the colorful performers on the stage. Alas, a glim of string vocal is heard, echoing throughout the room.

It's the final act of the play, yet the twinkle is just like the start.

Damien has been a bit sour by my constant finger-pointing at the props on stage. I don't blame him, though—nor do I want to pity him because it's fun to have the bigger hand sometimes. Besides, he's the only person whom I could easily discuss the set with.

"Look under her dress. You know that she's not wire-flying. They use an illusion pit on the block that she's tip-toeing on—just like a hologram," I whisper to Damien.

He deeply snickers. "You know that's not possible, right?"

I shake my head. "Trace the thin light line. All of them are heading somewhere different."

Damien rotates his neck to every corner in the room, until his eyes find three different light-holes from each corner of the room.

"Know-it-all," he mutters.

I smile, claiming my victory as the final scene blows off.

The best thing about tonight is that I've never seen Damien comfortably shut his mouth for more than 5 minutes without Charlie being present.

I know this much because every time I lurk around the room, I'd stop to notice how genuinely amused he is. It's as if he was a part of the crew and has now returned, saying hi from the audience.

And somehow, by the time all the performers are lined up to do the final bow, his glinting eyes make me feel proud for bringing him here.

Washing my eyesight, all golden lights come blasting into the wide-spaced area as the red curtains close. Not so long after, we walk out to the exit gate.

"How could you notice such plentiful things in a two-hour play?" Damien inquires.

I put a strain of hair behind my ears. "I used to direct some in college."

"Now that, I didn't expect," he retorts.

I sneer. "This is why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

Damien chuckles, and its sound matches very well with the bass of my grumbling stomach.

"Hungry?" Damien snickers.

"I'm grocery shopping after this," I obviously lie, masking my embarrassment. But by the time I tighten my coat, he sighs—not rolling his eyes—and notifies:

"Come on, I'll take you somewhere nice; an investment for your next article."

I smile brightly at his tempting offer, especially on the latter part. And I do feel that he's changed a bit—we can actually be friends regardless of our previous improper encounter.

As scary as it is that we so quickly escalated from a pair of nemesis to friendly acquaintances, at least I know his smile isn't so creepy now.

"The place has the best burgers in town," he passionately promotes as we exit on Broadway.

My head automatically turns, facing his side profile. "I thought you don't like burgers?"

Damien puts our strides to a pause. "Who could possibly give you the idea that I do not like burgers?"

I chuckle. "Me, myself and I?"

He simply sneers, resting both hands in his pocket pants. "There are many books with covers that don't represent their essence."