"Lord, why do you have to ruin my good ti like this?" I grunted under my breath, stabbing at the noodles with my fork like they were the reason my life sucked.
The door clicked shut behind whoever had just entered. I froze mid-bite. My ears perked up like so stray cat in an alley. The sound of shoes being kicked off, the faint shuffle across the floor.
Okay... okay, calm down, Ele. It’s probably Linda. Yeah. Linda always barged in like she owned the place, humming so annoying song or carrying way too many shopping bags. Maybe she forgot sothing and ca back. That had to be it.
But then again... it could be Dave. Ugh, Dave. I could already imagine him leaning against the wall with that look...like he was silently judging the fact that I was inhaling noodles straight out of a pan like so starving raccoon.
My cheeks already started burning at the thought. He’d ask what happened. He always asked. And I’d have to explain my tragic flop of a day. Nope. Not ready. Not at all.
Or... wait. Oh God. What if it was Josh? My brain imdiately pictured him waltzing in, all casual, tossing so stupid joke my way. And then ... sitting there with greasy hair, red puffy eyes from crying, and noodles hanging out of my mouth like spaghetti monster’s cousin. Kill now. Just kill now.
My grip on the fork tightened. Should I just... hide? Like, duck under the counter and pretend I’m not here? But too late—the sll of my noodle experint was filling the apartnt. No way anyone would believe a ghost made that.
The footsteps got closer. My heart pounded like a drum solo gone wrong. Each creak of the floorboard felt like a countdown. Linda? Dave? Josh? Or so random intruder here to murder ? Wow, brain, thanks for that thought.
I sucked in a breath, holding the fork like a weapon, ready to stab whoever dared ruin my noodle therapy session.
And then, the na echoed in the whole apartnt.
"Elena?"
The voice hit . Deep. Familiar.
Dave.
Of course it had to be Dave. Because the universe just loved humiliating on repeat.
I shook my head in denial. No, I will not let him ruin my ti. Just eat and ignore.
I kept repeating it in my mind on loop trying to focus on the delicious soupy noodles which now lost half of its taste.
All the spice, the veggies, the magic? Gone. Like my brain had decided to turn the flavor dial down just to remind I wasn’t allowed to enjoy anything in peace.
The sound of his footsteps ca closer.
Each one made chew faster, like maybe if I swallowed quick enough, I’d finish before he opened his mouth.
Maybe he’d think I was too busy to talk. Maybe he’d take pity on my noodle-slurping state and just... go to his room.
Yeah, right. Like Dave and my fate were ever that rciful. I could not help internally roll my eyes at them when Dave ca in.
Dave’s figure filled the doorway, casual as ever, like he owned the place and like my dignity wasn’t hanging by a single noodle thread.
He leaned against the fra, arms crossed, eyes scanning in that quiet way that always made feel like I’d been caught stealing cookies from a jar.
I shoved another forkful into my mouth just to prove a point. What point? I had no idea. Sothing along the lines of: See, I don’t care you’re here. Look at , I’m perfectly fine eating this ss in peace. Totally normal. Totally fine.
Except my hands were trembling slightly and the noodles slipped off my fork back into the pan with a sad plop. Smooth, Ele. Real smooth.
"I called you out." His voice broke the tension in the room. I could not pin point if it was a statent or a question.
I was still chewing on my noodles, and replied like that not caring what he would thought of and how badly he would judge and my manners, "I was eating." I replied with limited words, the sa way he used to reply in.
Dave sighed, like I was already exhausting him just by existing. Then he walked in, pulled out a chair, and sat right across from at the table. Like this was so kind of interrogation.
I hunched over my pan protectively, glaring at him through strands of my ssy hair. "Don’t you dare judge ," I mumbled, noodles dangling from my lips.
His eyebrow shot up, the tiniest twitch of amusent sparking on his otherwise calm face. "Judge you?" he said, voice annoyingly steady. "Elena, you’re eating like the world’s ending tomorrow."
I stabbed at my noodles harder, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe it is."
That finally made him tilt his head, his expression softening in a way I did not have the emotional capacity to handle. "What happened?"
And there it was. The dreaded question. The one I’d been desperately trying to dodge since the mont he walked in.
What do I even say?
Do I tell him the truth?
That I completely embarrassed myself at the Silver Fox eting that I t this Grace girl who looked like she belonged on the cover of so fancy Hollywood magazine while I sat there like the undercooked dumpling I am?
Which I of course cannot reveal or else another ss wil be created.
Then what? That Caroline’s whole ss had exploded and dragged in.
Or do I lie? Pretend I’m fine. Pretend the puffiness in my eyes is just allergies and the noodles are stress-free comfort food. But then... Dave isn’t stupid. He sees through lies like they’re glass.
And if I bring up Caroline, I’ll have to explain the whole situation. The photos. The hickey. The way my chest still feels heavy with the thought of her tears. And how selfish I felt, ditching her after promising to be there.
Nope. Nope. Not happening. Not right now.
But my throat... ugh. My throat betrayed .
The lump there got bigger, pushing words up before I even knew what they were. My lips parted, and before my brain could slam on the brakes, it slipped out:
"I... I need your help."
The fork clinked back into the pan as my hand dropped, limp. The words just hung there in the air between us, raw and humiliating.
Congratulations, Ele. You’ve officially opened Pandora’s box.
Dave didn’t even flinch. His eyes locked on mine, calm but sharp, like he’d been expecting to say that all along.
"Alright," he said quietly. "With what?"
And just like that, my chest tightened, because now I had to actually say it.
Reviews
All reviews (0)