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imperfectdreamer.
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Chapter Thirty-Two
-Alex's P.O.V-
I'm not usually the kind of guy who would just shrug it off and leave, but I just figured that it's better not to make a scene and crash everything in public. I mean, Kate does like Drake after all. What kind of guy would I be if I were to trash it up for her?
I was walking on the so very familiar road and that's when I passed by the usual spot. What's the usual spot? Well, remember that old man who I met when I just arrived here? This may sound funny, but he's sort of my first friend here, besides Kate who was labeled as housemate before.
Hmm, weird, why isn't he here today? Usually I'd find him sitting around, watching at nothing in particular, especially on Tuesdays. That's funny.
Oh well, maybe he's just busy for today. It's not like I expect him to just sit there all the time.
I continued to walk home alone and remembered one thing: I still haven't done what I wanted to do. I haven't done what I planned to do, the reason why I got here. It's been three months and I still haven't made any progress.
It's not like I wanted to get out of Hollywood in the middle of a wonderful career, not to mention it's going uphill lately. I just had to leave. I just needed to know something. Although I can't bring myself up to share this with anyone with a fear that they might just blow it out to feed the paparazzi in exchange for cash. I can't afford to have my secret blown out. Not anymore, at least.
* * *
-Kate's P.O.V-
When I came home from the date with Drake, I didn't actually felt too...something. I mean, usually I'd be like all, OH MY GOSH and what not, but it's starting to feel normal. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I don't even bother.
It was still five in the afternoon and obviously Miranda isn't back from work yet. In fact, I even got a text message from her telling me to make my own dinner tonight, not that I don't always do, but I fail mostly by myself. Miranda would always stand right there and correct me whenever I do something 'wrong', like the way I hold the spatula and turn on the stove or whatever.
So, as you can see, I'm a poor cook. Whenever Miranda's not in to correct me and stuff, I'd usually go for the two most simple (and the two only things) that exist in my cookbook, which is fried rice or instant noodles. I would've ordered some food home if she told me earlier, but it was too late since Drake was already halfway dropping me off.
I went up stairs to wash up and maybe hit the books, since exams are around the corner, which is obviously a pain but what the heck. Oh, weird, the house seems pretty quiet today. Alex is definitely in, but why isn't he down stairs like usual? Wait, why isn't everything going according to how it usually was? Don't tell me that my life is taking a dramatic turn today because that is seriously the last thing that I need right now.
The day was starting to get boring, and it's dinner time already and Alex still isn't down yet. What, did he climb off from the window for some secret mission again?
I decided not to wait any longer, besides, I really was hoping that he would cook instead so I don't have to feed on instant noodles tonight. I walked up the stairs and knocked on his room door. Huh, no reply. Maybe he did jump off from the window.
I twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Okay, so maybe he didn't jump off the window.
Apparently he's asleep, but not on the bed, but against that desk that Miranda and I chose out three years ago to fill up this room. He must be studying his butts off for the exam and fell asleep. Huh, figures.
I was about to wake him up but then realized that there were no textbooks on the table. Instead, I saw letters. Yes, those letters that were under that old and dusty shoebox under his bed. Another piece of paper caught my eye, but it was beyond my reach so I couldn't see what sort of paper it was. It's yellowish and old, just like the letters, but it was printed not written. I definitely never saw that one in the box before and I had a sudden urge to read it. I just have to read everything that's included in that box. After all, I've already been through half of it so a little more shouldn't hurt...
Oh crap, he's awake.
I ran out of the room like an idiot, hoping that he didn't see me. The first thing that I did after that was to grab some instant noodles from the top kitchen shelf, filled it up with hot water and pretend to wait for it to cook while sitting in the dining room.
Sooner or later Alex came down, but he didn't seem like the usual cheery Alex (like I said, nothing's usual today) and it sort of made me wonder even more. It doesn't seem like he's in a mood to talk, too. So am I supposed to leave him alone or what?
"Uh, Miranda isn't coming home for dinner today..." I began. To my surprise, Alex didn't answer anything. He continued to walk around aimlessly like he's looking for something. Question is: what? "...so we're gonna have to cook out own dinner tonight..." and again, he didn't reply. He wasn't even looking at me. "...and I was wondering if you'd want instant noodles..."
I give up.
"HEY!"
"What?" he swiveled.
"What do you mean what? I've been talking to you." I sighed slightly.
"Oh." He hesitated. "I'm sorry. I was just..."
"You look sort of distracted." I smiled wryly. "Did you lose something important? What are you up to?"
"N-Nothing, just wandering around...I was just thinking some stuff to myself. Well, nothing big." He stammered. "Anyway, what did you say?"
"I said Miranda isn't coming home today so we're supposed to cook our own dinner." I raised a quizzical brow at his feeble reply. I stopped after I realized that he's looking at the dining table.
"Instant noodles?" he smiled insignificantly.
"Yeah, I mean, it's not healthy but it tastes good." I said defensively.
"You should throw that thing away. Knowing you, it probably wouldn't even satisfy you for an hour."
"Wouldn't throwing it away make me feel even more unsatisfied?"
He didn't say anything but laughed. He walked towards me, grabbed the noodles and tossed it into the sink. I just simply stared at him, not knowing what to say. I can't believe he tossed my dinner into the sink!
"Hey, do you want me to go on a diet or something?" I frowned.
"No, I want you to do the opposite." He grinned. "You should start making your own dinner. Instant noodles are not an option."
"But I don't know how to cook. Mind you, the last time I did I had set the kitchen on fire. Miranda banned me from the stove if that's what you wanna know."
"Well, get someone to teach you then."
"Who?" I asked as he gave me one of those looks. Oh, I see what he meant.
"So, let's see what you've got." He beamed and walked into the kitchen with that cocky look on his face. I shouldn't have snapped him out of his dreamland. Where's the time machine when you need one?