Philophobia (Anger is Bliss)

chapter 9

He stayed with me even after I assured him I was okay. I'm certain it was just an excuse. But I'm also certain he was worried about me. He followed me to our classes, he sat down on a bench with me during breaks, he went to the cafeteria with me and we ate together. He even carried my bag for me a few times.

He looked at me in a way no one ever has.

We talked a bit. I tried not to talk a lot, because it seemed the more he talked, the more I liked him. But I couldn't help it. His voice and the way he speaks, the words he chooses, the expressions he has. The way he looks at me. Do I see something real or am I simply delusional?

As of now, we're on our last class of the day and I am so impatient to leave.

He is next to me but I don't mind that anymore. Not like I ever did. I don't even know why I bother trying to lie anymore.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Lila invited me to a party tonight," he says.

So...random??

"Where does this even come from? Also umm...who's Lila?" I ask, embarrassed. I am so bad with names. But to be fair, how am I supposed to know people's names on the third day of school? I'm certain they don't even know who I am either.

"The girl who was next to me this morning."

Why is he talking about her? I sigh. "And uh...so?" I ask.

"I'd like you to come with me, if you're okay with that," he says.

"I like parties but not her, so I don't know." Actually, I like parties as long as there aren't too many people or as long as it's not too loud, because then, I get the most insufferable headache. But I like the party lights. If there are any.

"I don't like her either but it would be fun together."

I think. "She seems to like you a lot," I finally say.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, so you know she likes you," I add, looking at him.

"Does it look like I care?"

I look at him in confusion. He isn't even being rude. He's literally not caring, and it's as simple as that. And I can't help but stare at him and wish I were a man, too. Not being scared to get insulted or hit—or even killed—when rejecting men. Having the privilege to be calm and not worry about the consequences.

"No, and it's funny because many guys would kill to be in your shoes," I say. If I have the right girl in mind, she is really popular. I mean really popular, just like the mean girls in movies. And she is painfully pretty but so very arrogant.

"I could say the same for you, sweetheart," he says looking into my eyes and then at my lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. Good lord, what did he call me?

"I think you know very well what that's supposed to mean" he replies, looking back into my eyes. I can't let out a word. I think I know what he means, but I'm too scared to get it wrong. "By the way, do you like anyone?"

Oh. I don't think I got it wrong.

He gets closer like he usually does and our faces are a few centimeters away. Just don't move, I tell myself, he will back away and you'll be completely fine, but he smells really good and he looks really cute up close.

What if I cross my eyes unintentionally?? What if my strabismus suddenly comes back???

"You really like doing that, huh?" I joke.

"Doing what?"

"Invading my personal space," I smile.

"I do" he replies with a smirk, "just as long as you're okay with it."