Perfect For You

Can't Help Falling

"Narcisa," he said. He took a step forward.

"Please, for the nth time, it's NJ," NJ said.

He looked as if he was going to reach out for her, but he stopped and put his hand back to his side.

She was smiling, but there was no joy in it. "Narcisa is my grandmother, who I can never be. And that's okay. There are just some things that you're not meant to do. I knew that about playing the violin, a long time ago. It's still true now. Thanks for helping out, though. I really do appreciate it. See you tomorrow."

She went out of the music room, and let herself out of his house. She went inside her car. She didn't feel like going home to her apartment, to be left alone with her thoughts. She wondered if she should call Mads or Lisa or even Galli, but she knew what they were going to say, anyway.

She knew one thing: she needed a drink.

So she went to the one place she knew where she could get one even at this hour.

***

Great.

Just great.

There were times when she wondered, despite her faith, despite her being in a worship band, if God actually enjoyed making life difficult for her. But here she was again, standing in the middle of NomCom, a tray piled with sizzling sisig and pugoyaki (at least they didn't run out of it this time!) and a Manila Caramel, with nowhere to sit. She even went up to the second level of NomCom, but to no avail.

She found herself near the reading nook tree. A few patrons were gathered underneath the tree, reading books. She wondered if maybe she could sit on the ground instead, and attempt to eat her food here-

"Narcisa."

Her heart stopped for a moment. The tray on her arm teetered as her hands shook. His hand shot out towards her, steadying her tray.

He shook his head. "I mean," he said, and with slow deliberation, corrected himself, "NJ." His expression was tentative, like he was trying out how the letters sounded, and he smiled, slowly. A small smile, but it infused his expression with warmth. "NJ," he said again.

"You're here, too," she said. She didn't know why her voice came out no louder than a whisper.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said. He held out his tray for her to see, which was filled with two servings of pugoyaki, and two Manila Caramel beers. He looked at her tray. "But I guess you also have one, too."

"I'll still take them," she said hastily. "Or, okay. I can share with you."

She grinned at him. He nodded, looking relieved.

"I've been thinking about what you said a while ago," he said. "And...I have a few things to say, too. Will you hear me out?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "Okay. But maybe when we find a table? It's kinda hard to talk out here while we're holding our trays."

"I know a place where we can stay," he said. He tilted his head to one side. "Come on."

They went up to the second floor. They went all the way up to the end of the hallway, stopping before a frosted door. Beside it was a small window, which reminded NJ of a drugstore window. This establishment looked like a clinic, and she didn't even know there was one in this place. She was even more confused as to why they were there.

He knocked on the door.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing? They're probably closed, it's late."