Chapter 9

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I grab my hair in frustration. It has been a week since I last saw Ambrose, and it's all because I'm extremely occupied with my writing.

What makes it worse is the fact that I couldn't even contact him saying we can't hang out these days because one, what gives me the right to say that. And two, it's not like he's anticipating for me to message, either. I say that because he hasn't messaged me too.

We're clearly not in the stage where we can comfortably message each other. Like asking where he is or if he wants to meet up. Well, that's what I think he thinks. Plus, he isn't very social.

So, now I've been stuck working on the ending part of our short book that we have to submit next week. I dismissed my fellow club members since a while ago because of how tired they looked and I felt so bad. That's why I just thought of doing this by myself.

But that's the problem! The ending is the hardest part! I've been stuck trying to think of a very nice ending but my head's all empty. It would've been nice to have at least one club member here but like I said, they all looked so tired to even think like me. Like Zombie tired.

I bang my head on the table lightly and halted the moment I heard knockings at the door. I lift my head up, confused as to who might it be at this time. It was eleven at night. Who in the world would visit the club room this late?

"Come in," I say, loud enough for the person outside to hear. It's probably Alfie or Maeena. They're usually the latest ones to go home.

The door clicks open, revealing the person I least expected to enter.

My eyes widen in surprise, with my mouth gaping and pen falling off my finger. Suddenly, I wasn't so frustrated anymore. Rather, I was in shock.

Ambrose closes the door gently, before standing still and just staring at me. I was too speechless to even ask why or how he knew I was here. Too speechless, I could not let out a word.

This isn't a dream, right? I know the last time I asked this, I embarrassed myself but is this really a dream? And instead of wondering why he's here, I'm more curious as to how he knew I was still here.

Did I end up falling asleep while thinking of the ending?

"Just for your information, this isn't a dream. So there's no need to pinch my cheeks." Ambrose says.

I let out a fake cough, embarrassed. How the hell did he know I was thinking that? He's probably psychic!

But wait... Ambrose really is here!

"H—how did you know where I was?" I ask dumbfoundedly.

He approaches the table slowly. "Were you busy this week?"

My brows furrow in immense confusion. I nod my head slowly in response. Then he takes the empty seat opposite of me, looking around the room that he was unfamiliar with.

"Why, did something happen? D—did Jerry get hurt? Were you hurt playing volleyball?" I bombard him with questions, overthinking what might've happened while I was gone.

He looks back at me. "No. It was just that I didn't get to see you the past few days,"

"Did you need something, then?" I continue asking. It wasn't like him to just suddenly appear in front of someone, especially if that someone is me.

"No," he repeats. "I just... had the urge to see you."

Ba doom. Ba doom.

I swallow my saliva in sudden panic, blinking several times. Did... did I hear that right? I must be hearing things! The urge to see me? Like me? No way! He probably used the wrong words.

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