It was five o'clock when they arrived at the restaurant - the best time to arrive, because people would not be coming until dinner time, thus they could sit at any table they wanted. "Where do you want to sit?" he asked as he looked around the small yet delightful interior of the restaurant. She said, "Whichever," and pointed the nearest table she could find; there were far more important things she needed to think about other than deciding which table to choose. She'd been thinking about this for quiet a few days and tried to find the right time to tell him, and now was supposed to be the right time. Problem is, how was she going to tell him? She didn't even know where to start!
The food was nice, accompanied by light conversation until they ran about things to talk about and he said, "I thought you said you needed to talk." And that's it. She knew she had to tell him right at that moment, because there's no point in delaying anymore - no one would be benefit from it. And so she told him.
No tears and she felt quiet calm. He seemed oddly fine or worryingly too calm, which meant he wasn't fine at all. The first response was, "I knew it's going to be like this." She lost for words. She felt like she was back in junior high once more, where she did the same thing to her classmate and she couldn't find the right words to say afterward. After a while he said he needed to go to the toilet and he's taking his cell with him. That was never a good thing. She thought he would let her pay for her dinner but she was wrong. He was, after all, quiet a gentleman.
After that they headed to the nearest garden and talked. It felt dull, and quiet. She couldn't stand the atmosphere and asked, "Do you angry?" He looked at her, "You know this is not how I look when I'm angry." She replied a weak yeah and asked another question: "Do you feel sad? Will you be okay?"
"Well, of course, it is normal for a guy who got rejected to be a little bit down, right? But don't worry, I'm fine," and as he said this he turned away his face from her. It felt painful as well. It wasn't as easy as she thought it would be. "I feel bad," she started again. "Don't be." This time she looked him in the eye, "But I do feel bad and I do care about you!"
They didn't talk that much when he walked her home. It was felt like she walked alone even though he was there right next to her. He didn't speak at all, or even tried to make a conversation. They talked only one or two sentences and even as they spoke to each other, the awkward silence was undeniable. She never felt more upset than that, and never had she been so lonely, overpowered by guilt and frustration. It was a ten minutes of torture. As they approached her house gate she was wishing it was all never happened. She was glad to be home, and not to feel the awkwardness. He said, "See you then." She waved her hand and walked right through in.
It wasn't even three minutes and her cell was ringing. It was him. She answered. "I want to tell you something, I'll be waiting outside," and so she went out once again, wondering about what he would tell her. Maybe he'd say something really mean and she was ready for it. She wished for it. She thought she deserves it, because he hadn't shown the slightest bit of displeasure behavior towards her, instead of being oddly silent. She saw him standing in front of the gate. "Yes?"
"You said you're not ready yet, right?" She nodded. "And that we don't know what will happen in the future." Another nod. "So I've decided to keep chasing you. I don't care if I have to wait longer. I wish you would answer me right now, that you'd be ready right now, of course. But I'm willing to wait. Even if when you're ready there's only one week left for us to be together, I'd wait and I don't mind. I don't even know why I'm doing this. I don't know what's so special about you but I just want to be able to hold your hands, hug you, and kiss the top of your head. I just want to be with you."
Again, she didn't know what to respond. She didn't saw this coming. "I don't know exactly when I will be ready, and we don't know what will happen in the future." He said, "Yes, so that meanwhile, I'm still doing this."
"But," she added desperately, "for now we're friends, right?" She meant to tell him that in the future he might not like her and they would be just friends. But his face was so upset that she quickly added again, "And then we'll see? But now let's just take things nice and slow...?" He cracked a smile, "Yeah, we'll see." And with that he went back home.
'I do feel bad and I do care about you, but what have I done to us?' was the exact thing that ran through her mind. He wasn't ready, so was she. So what was that all about? He could not seemed to understand that they were both not ready for each other yet. Or even might not meant to be together.
"Well," she told herself in the mirror, "I need to pray more about this."
That's my short narrative. What do you think? Am I capable enough to be a writer? :)
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