Our Symphonies | satosere

18 ;

「 eighteen 」

"I was regretting my instincts"

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Yesterday evening was a blast of seafood barbeque; and even though I had prepared myself for the quietest feast possible, it was heartwarmingly chaotic.

Miette's cooking skills were quite the opposite of her burnt caramel tounge, and I had fallen asleep with a full stomach after texting a good night to Lillie. She had ignored my middle finger text - of course she had - and had responded my midnight greeting with her own string of pink hearts and a crescent moon emoji.

That's what differentiated us: Lillie never tends to hold a grudge - even when I throw up some really hurtful stuff at her - she moves on with a chill mindset, with no heavy rains brewing in her head; and I secretively despised her for this down-to-earthness.

Sleep still solvated in my eyes as I relentlessly rubbed them, I stepped down the flight of stairs. Some of them creaked a little, given they were made out of lightweight, worn-out wood - and the sound managed to dissipate my lethargy overdose.

Guess I was the endmost one to reach for breakfast, because established that the centre table was unoccupied and it was eleven in the morning - and I was a late nighthawk, especially on holidays - rest of them must've already eaten.

I tamed my bedhead hair with the help of the hairtie on my wrist, and with a silent yawn, dragged myself towards the kitchen.

It was an open concept: a granite island lined with three-legged stools separated the cooking station from the loungeroom, the high ceiling was slant and the imperfect pitches of seagulls and muffled ocean waves bounced off the beaming timber walls, profuse sunlight filtering through the perpendicular windows.

The scent of frying bacon and eggs caused me to fasten my steps, and tastebuds were practically tingling by the time I set a foot on the kitchen floor - and soon, I was regretting my instincts. Severely.

"Oh hey, Serena! I totally wasn't expecting you here," Alain's voice had a dark smugness to it, and worry settled at the bottom of my empty stomach when he grinned. "Maybe fate wanted me to start this beautiful day by seeing your even beautiful face."

I held back a puke by lowering my gaze. Swallowing, I tried to disagree, "I woke up late today, and ‐"

"Ah, that's fine - even I slept late last night. It was real fun," He didn't let me compute a response, and added, "I was assembling myself a quick meal actually, and doubling the ingredients won't hurt. I'd love cooking for you."

I managed to crack a smile, but it fell apart the coming second - like it couldn't keep up with my hypothetical lever of double-standardness. People like him don't deserve my affirmations in the first place. "It's not needed, thank you."

That was when realization lashed out at me like a bucket of iced water and a seven a.m. alarm clock - Alain and I were the only ones in the lodge right now. He could do anything and no one would even get a whiff of it. Anything.

I held my breath when he kept the grilling tool away and took concentrated steps in my direction.

My knees quaked, and although my first reflex should've been to bolt for the door and save my life, I wasn't able to. There was this ropelike clasp in the air between us that froze my movements, that replaced the cartilage between my knee joints with heavy iron, and I couldn't move - I couldn't move my freaking feet.

Our faces were measurably four inches apart by the time he halted the walk, and I stood by the island with oxygen sucked out and toes curling inside crocs. I could count his eyelashes and smell his cheap mintness - that much dangerously close he was.