Chapter 7: Bold Confessions and Quiet Hours

06

To make the most of my injury and get closer to him, I invited Derek to watch a movie and eat on the weekend, claiming it was to thank him for taking care of me. But it was obvious he saw through my excuse.

“Are you trying to chase me, Aubrey?” He smiled, and I was so smitten I nodded, just admitting it. The heat rushed to my cheeks; I squared my shoulders, chin up, eyes bright—might as well own it.

“Yes! I’m chasing you!” Derek probably didn’t expect my bold admission, blushed, stammered, and finally threw out a “then good luck” before fleeing.

I couldn’t figure out his attitude. Because I impulsively confessed my feelings to Derek. Roommates gave advice and put together another outfit for me. But after last time, they didn’t give me a flowing wig.

When I showed up in front of Derek in an elegant skirt, his face reddened unnaturally. Ha, no man can escape my charm. I winked for good measure.

To keep my image, I skipped pizza that makes your face oily and barbecue that leaves a smell. Went for the reserved, conservative Western food. We picked a downtown bistro near the Boise River—exposed brick, Edison bulbs, the kind of place that makes you whisper like you’re important. I ordered salmon and a salad, hoping I’d look like I had my life together.

But surprisingly, the shot put didn’t stump me, but the little knife and fork made my hands clumsy. Across from me, Derek laughed heartily, and I got more frustrated, insisting the steak was too raw to cut. I nearly sent a piece flying, my fork scraping the plate like a chalk squeak.

“Miss, your steak is medium rare,” the waiter said, polite and quick. “If you’d like, I can have it cooked more.” He could’ve just stayed quiet, but now I looked even more like a country bumpkin in the city. I buried my face in the menu, wishing I’d ordered mac and cheese, and fumbled my napkin into my lap.

I angrily hacked at the steak, trying to vent my frustration. A fair hand took my steak and handed me a plate of cut pieces. “Dummy.” His pampering tone made me almost tipsy. I felt my heart do a somersault.

Suddenly I remembered a meme from years ago: “Your dimples have no whiskey, but I’m drunk like a dog.” Derek’s smile really is gorgeous. I wanted to take a picture, but remembered what happened last time.

But I never expected, unreliable me actually fell asleep during the movie. Listening to my three single roommates, I’d deliberately picked a romance movie. They said romance movies create an ambiguous vibe, and a man and woman alone in the dark will definitely spark love. But the plot was so boring, I got sleepy in minutes. The trailers were blaring, the Dolby boom rattled the sticky floor—and then I blinked and it was credits.

When I woke up, my head was leaning on Derek’s shoulder. The whole theater was empty, just us and the cleaning lady. “Aubrey.” Derek suddenly looked down at me. Nervous, I swallowed hard. Thank goodness we ate Western food tonight—no garlic breath.

“Wh… what’s wrong?” I asked, afraid he’d kiss me next and I’d forget to close my eyes. But he flicked my head off his shoulder with two fingers. “Where’d you get the habit of snoring in your sleep?”

I awkwardly touched my nose and explained it might be because of heavy training, too tired. “Oh, I don’t mind.” He put his hands in his pockets and walked ahead coolly. I was annoyed at always embarrassing myself in front of him.

“Hurry up, the dorm front doors lock at midnight—quiet hours.” He stopped to urge me, and I hurried to catch up. Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Thinking about how I met Derek, every event was so embarrassing. “Ahhhhhhh.” Unable to hold it in, I yelled out.

The next second, the dorm door was banged on. “503, if you can’t sleep, come out and mop the floor!” The Resident Advisor’s voice at the door scared me into silence. “Sorry, RA Lisa, my friend just broke up, sorry.” My roommate explained with suppressed laughter, and RA Lisa let us off. Damn!

Love is so annoying. “Aubrey, but you’re not even dating Derek yet.” No need for everyone to poke my sore spot. I buried my face in my pillow.