LA FURIA

Chapter 11

Hah! Dream on.

That would be a very nice dream, though.

Could it be possible that he likes her?

Rachel tried to reverse the question. Would she be able to like him at all?

She didn't want to lie to herself. He could drag her, by gosh sakes, anywhere. She floated up with him like she'd gotten hold of a hot air balloon and couldn't let go. 

"So he hugged me and cared about me. He kissed me a bit. Does that mean we're connected? Does that change us, or do we forget about it?"

Partly she likes him, partly he scared her. 

"With a guy like Edward? But what's Edward like? And who cares and who counts beside me."

Flat on her back, she turned to watch the elemental perfection tossing pasta with butter. How nice it would be to have some guy cooking for her every time. Edward had been...

"Will you stop that stupidity, you birdbrain!" she shrieked out loud, feeling disgusted with herself. 

Edward stopped working, and he looked at her like she had gone bonkers. 

"What did you say?"

Their gazes locked for a second. 

"Uh, nothing. I just remembered something."

"Yeah, right," he nodded, then continued tossing. "Just shower while I finish this. It may take  a while."

She groped for her slippers and went to the bathroom hurriedly.

"Don't get your stitches wet!" He called out after her. 

Edward picked up a long pasta thread and put it in his mouth, smiling while chewing. 

"Maybe she likes me. No, she doesn't like me. But it's possible that she likes me. Possible. Yeah, in fact, probable. But not quite likely."

He kept on debating with himself for a while and before he knew it, he was eating a lot of spaghetti without the sauce. 

He heard her humming accompanied by the sound of running water. She had the habit of humming in the shower. Her sunny disposition was so contagious. 

He shook his head and decided to go back to his cooking. He really had to change things. He may not want it, but for her, he'd do it. 

She toyed with the meatballs on her plate, crushing them into tiny pieces, and ate little by little. She twirled the spaghetti again and again and pushed them around her plate. She kept silent throughout the meal. 

Edward slammed his glass on the table. 

"If you don't like it that much, don't ask me to cook for you again!" His stare seemed to burn a hole in her skin. He gripped his fork so tight she thought he'd be ready to pound her into biodegradable lumps. 

Rachel stayed calm. He didn't know. He didn't want to know, but he made his own assumptions. She was making him mad all the time. 

"I like the food. I like it because you cooked it for me and it's really delicious. Now please ask me why I'm uneasy. You don't need to shout. I can hear you loud and clear."

He looked like he was kicked in the gut. Edward cleared his throat and put his utensils down.

"What's bothering you?" he asked in a low voice she could barely hear. 

She heaved a sigh before replying. 

"I'm thinking about my family. They'd think I got kidnapped or something. I don't want them to worry so much. Thanks to you, I am alright now. Thank you very much...But they still have to know that I'm alright."