He is rich, famous, quiet, sober and a hot head. One of the most eligible bachelors in Thailand based on every criteria.
He has just enough to earn his bread, is a nobody for the world, doesn't give a damn about anything, carefree, messy and a happy...
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Dunk... I want to confess something." Drake said with flushed cheeks.
"What is it?" I asked focusing more on the donuts he bought for me.
"I... like you..." he said almost in a whisper.
"Huh?" I said taking a huge bite.
"I like you, Dunk" he said out clearly.
Whatever was stuffed in my mouth fell out of it.
"What did you say?" I asked jumbled.
"You did not hear or you did not understand?" Drake asked confused.
"I did not understand. What do you mean you like me?"
"I like you means I like you. What's there to understand? Dunk, what I am asking is will you date me?"
I immediately drank some water to clear my throat and my mind. "Wait Drake... Listen... Even if you are asking me this being a guy, it doesn't bother me. But... We are in school. We are what? 12?"
"So what?"
"So what? I can't think of such things. I still sometimes forget to wear fresh underwear. And you are talking about dating? And besides you are just a friend."
"Dunk... Give me a chance of being more than a friend." Drake insisted.
"Ummm... Sorry dude. But I don't think it is possible for me to feel anything for you more than a friend." I said.
Drake's expressions changed from pout to fury in a few seconds.
"Who wants to be your friend? Don't ever talk to me." Drake said and pulled back the donut box from me. He left stomping his feet. That was the last time we talked. Even if we were in same school same class for next four years before my parents died, we never talked face to face again. Or rather, he never talked to me.
....
"Drake?" I asked surprised to see a familiar face after a very long time. "Drake! You are Drake right?" I confirmed excited.
The guy who helped me not stumble to the ground smiled at me briefly. "Hi Dunk... Long time. Ummm... Are you ok?"
Frankly, the drinks are now subsiding after looking at him. "I am fine. Thanks. Just had a bit too much to drink. Shall we sit and talk?" I asked him pointing to the bench across the road.
He just nodded and followed me.
"So, how are you?" I asked with a smile.
"I am fine. Thanks for checking. How are you doing?" He asked. He seemed different. More handsome and tall. But his face was still stern. Except for the brief smile he gave me in the beginning, his face then went back to how it was for the last four years of school I remember. Does he still hold a grudge for rejection?
