The Price of being Pretentious

Chapter Nine: Remember Me

It was another Saturday night when I arrived at the treehouse. I could smell the aroma of grilling meat. I saw Paris standing by the grill with a tong in his hand and a fan on the other. He had different kinds of meat at the grill. I can see a pork chop, sausages, and some seemed to be high-grade meat. Where did he get those?

'Dad said I should avoid burning the meat.' He grinned.

'Did you asked your dad to teach you how to do barbecue?'

He smiled at me before he nodded. 'He was bugging me if I already had a girlfriend. But I told him you were just my tutor. Then he told stories about how he cooked for my mom before just to win her heart. What do you think if I cook for Venice? Would she like it?' He tilted his head, then turned in my direction.

As I looked at him, a lump formed in my throat. My heart sank imagining Paris cooking for another girl. Why would I feel this way? It's not that he was exclusive to me. Of course, he can cook for anyone he wants. If that's what he wanted, then I don't have a choice.

'Hmm? That would be nice. Yes.' I said dimly, staring blankly at the sizzling meat on the grill.

'London? What's the matter?'

'Nothing. I'm just –,' I sighed. '–preoccupied. I guess.'

'Are you sad that I would cook for another girl?' He laughed.

I snorted. 'No way! I'm just hungry.' I voiced out.

He laughed again and shook his head. 'Probably. You eat more than you look.'

I clicked my tongue. 'Shut up.' I turned around and headed to his small fridge.

I tried to open a bottled juice using my teeth. I didn't bother him just to ask for an opener.

'Hey!' he called, 'I have an opener–,' He didn't finish his sentence when the metal cap was removed from the bottled juice.

His mouth dropped. There was a moment of silence. We stared at each other.

He laughed. 'Yeah, who needs an opener when you have that mouth? You should stop opening metal caps like that from now on. There will be a time that you might hurt your mouth.'

I rolled my eyes and drank the juice instead.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the meat.

Why worry about me when you like another woman? Who knows the ways of men? And since when did we become close? Something was fishy. I could smell it.

When we finished our meal, we started our lesson as usual. At our tutorials, Paris was very observant of the rules I implemented. He acts formally and he stopped asking nonsensical questions. I studied him while his attention was on his test paper. At first glance, he doesn't look like someone smart. Though he was good-looking and stylish in wearing clothes. It couldn't be denied that he's a total chick magnet playboy. I could always see him wear an unbuttoned shirt, showing his undershirt. I think he had an obsession with buttoned-down shirts. His body was well built like those sculpted figures from ancient Greece. His jawlines were well defined, but sometimes they were covered by his shoulder-length hair. I wonder what he would look like with a clean cut.

He noticed I was looking at him. He covered his hands across his chest like he felt I was stripping him naked inside my brain.

'W- what are you looking at?' He asked nervously.

I shifted my head to the right side. 'If I told you to cut your hair, will you cut it?'

His hands transferred to his hair.