Chapter Two : The Calm Before The Storm

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Chapter Two : The Calm Before The Storm

The cute boy in front of her was fidgeting.

She had known his actions, experienced them herself, although she didn't get the chance to execute the actions that normally succeeded such signs. She wasn't sure if it was good, that she didn't have the luxury of going through it first hand. Then maybe she could convince those friends that were head over heels in love to not think of themselves as a maiden ( or man ) in distress when talking about crushes, with a good ladle of reasons. Who would be such an irresponsible person, one who let their life ride on a 'yes' or 'no'? But maybe that was because of family backgrounds.

She didn't understand. Friends were better than boyfriends and girlfriends. If there was something she learned from watching television, it was that best friends that were once comfortable with each other turned into over-sensitive humans when they got themselves out of the friend zone. And a single breach of their unspoken promise will permanently shatter their relationship, irreversible and unrepentant. She was pretty sure the world known as 'real life' was much, much different. But so far, she didn't find anyone who shared her views. They were too caught up in what they had been taught to care about her opinions. And she still didn't understand why love was so important that whole lives and future could be put on a thread, like how a pawnshop operated. The difference was glaringly obvious but cleverly concealed at the same time. The difference, objects in a pawnshop were physical, the gamble in love was of the mind and heart.

The boy wouldn't make eye contact with her. She had thought at first, maybe she did something wrong. Her sarcasm must have rubbed off as insulting. But then he started to look restless and she changed her mind. The signs he was showing must've meant that something big and life-changing was coming up. But maybe 'life-changing' would be suitable for him and not her.

"_______, um . . . er . . I-I . . uh . ."

Poor boy was stammering. She leaned forward, acting completely oblivious to his miniature breakdown.

"Are you mentally scrolling through your long list of speeches, if you did prepare any?"

She didn't know how to ask him to hurry up without coming off as rude. The few times she had been honest and blunt, she received glares, small enough to be unnoticed by others other than the receiver. She had the honor of getting the first hand experience, and after taking a good long look at herself, she improvised. She was sure this boy wouldn't send her glares, from the looks of it, he must've been staring rather than glaring at her long before he even decided to meet up in this cafe.

Well, not that I can help it, she thought as she pushed her hair back in her mind, imitating the models on magazines. It feels good to be loved. And so far, she'd only have one person confess to her, and that person was someone whose existence was completely unknown to her. Not to be offensive, she wasn't giving chances for free. She had turned him down as warmly as she could, and tried to become friends. But he was the one who had cold feet, despite her numerous attempts to get him talking. That had worked a lot worse than she hoped, but her improving efforts certainly didn't last long enough to her liking. Then the 'drifting apart'. And by the looks of this boy, she felt like memory lane was already paved out for her.

She focused somewhere else. She'd once said something about 'plenty of fish in the sea' and had mentally facepalmed for giving such a lame suggestion for getting over the rejection. Three stars, seeing that it was something many people would say. Then when she'd helped her friend dish out lines to a boy whom she'd rejected afterwards, she'd said 'great big clunking hints about a broken-hearted girl who needed some friends-with-benefits.' She felt that it was even worse, and gave herself a minus one star for jumping to conclusions that he was lovesick. That must've been really insulting to the poor boy. Now, she leaned back and prepared for this boy's words, she should make up for them by saying something better. The bench mark should be four stars . .

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