What's for Breakfast?

Four: Like a Guest

I'm already in front of my bedroom when I hear the knob of the front door turning. My eyes widen as it makes a clicking sound. I'm uncertain of how fast it happens, but the next thing I know, I am already inside my room.

I exhale. Geez. This is crazy.

The next morning, I try to avoid Derek again. I saunter stealthily from my bedroom to the bathroom and back to my bedroom like a thief.

After that night, something has changed about the way I see Derek. Aside from the fact that it's like he's turned into a stranger to me, I've felt more conscious of myself.

And we aren't really kids anymore. I can't yell at him and pull his hair whenever I'm pissed at him. What happened on the first night when I attacked him was out of instinct. It can't happen again. We're grown-ups. We have to act our age.

But! The bigger problem is, even though it's only temporary, Derek being so good-looking isn't helping. His sex appeal is too much for me to withstand, and I get goosebumps whenever I think of it.

I shudder at the thought. Stop. Being. So. Bothered.

Unfortunately, he's already at the dining table when I walk out of my room. The dining area is close to the exit, so I'm left with no choice but to pass by Derek.

"Good morning," he greets, raising an eyebrow at me. He's already digging into his breakfast.

"Morning," I reply shyly, then I straighten my back. I quickly glance at the food on the table. He has prepared a set of utensils for me as well. Um, okay.

"Sit. Have breakfast," he says nonchalantly, gazing now at the newspaper before him. I'm not gonna deny it, he appears like a mature adult.

I hesitate at first, but I am famished, so I swallow my pride and sit next to him. I'm mindful not to make any physical contact since the table is a little small. I suddenly regret that we choose to be minimalists.

I carefully pour coffee into my cup then place hotdogs and toasted bread on my plate. I promised Patrick that I would try my best to peacefully coexist with him. This is me trying, and satiating my hunger with a decent breakfast. And I've always had cereal and milk; this is something I'll welcome in my life.

"So, how was your sleep last night?" he asks.

"Pretty good."

"I heard you laughing. What were you watching?"

"Just this series... About scientists," I mutter, taking a bite of the hotdog, dodging eye contact.

"I see. I think I know that series. I used to watch that on Jack TV." He smiles, cocking his head to one side. "Anyway, do you have any plans? Care to join me for dinner?"

I pretend I don't hear him. What is he saying all of a sudden?

"I'll pick you up."

Alright. That's it.

"I have a lot of projects right now, so I'm busy," I politely decline. I didn't make any promise to maintain good relations with him. Furthermore, I have no intention to develop any sort of friendship with him.

He looks up at me with a pout, then he grumbles, "Please, Sam. I haven't been able to eat at the best restaurants here. I was away for a long, long time. I need a city tour. Please?"

I glance at him. In a split second, I get a snapshot of what occurred last time. How close we were. How his stare gave me goosebumps. How my heart beat so loud right after. The uneasiness etches its way back to my heart.

Damn it. It aggravates me even more.

"Why don't you ask your friends? You were out last night with them."