A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
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. . .
Blake started texting me a lot after that day, constantly asking how I was. I guessed he had no reason to text me that much before, and when he finally had one, he wouldn't stop.
In all honesty, I liked texting him. Weirdly enough, my heart skipped a beat every time my phone dinged in a message from him. I even set a special ringtone for his texts, so I didn't have to check my phone more than necessary.
I loved and hated the feeling at the same time.
To make up for the embarrassing first visit he had to my flat, I invited him to have dinner with me and make up for it. His immediate answer was positive, unfortunate to my preference of spending the night munching on an ordered burger meal.
Well, my cooking skills were bound to resurface someday.
"Cassie, this is one of the best baked ziti dishes I have ever had." Blake moaned. Literally moaned.
I didn't make much of an effort to hide my satisfied smile. "Happy you like it that much." I cackled. "You can take the rest of it with you too."
He smiled. "Really can't say no to that to seem polite."
I didn't mind Blake's huge appetite as long as he had great table manners.
"No need. Awkward free dining table here."
When I had finished my plate, I walked over to the sink and put it there. Felt like the most normal thing to do, until I felt Blake behind me doing the same thing, except for the fact his breath was brushing my neck...
I shivered. I had a moment where I thought I would panic or make a weird sound, but he was back in the living room as fast as he came.
"Thanks again for the food, Cassie," I heard him say behind me.
I took a deep breath and turned around. "Don't mention it. Want some biscuits?"
He shrugged. "Hmmm, why not."
I poured us two glasses of cranberry juice and picked some of the biscuits he brought to a plate. I served the sweets on the centre table, feeling his eyes on my every move. Felt a little uncomfortable I couldn't deny it, but moreover, I wondered what was catching his attention that much. I turned on the TV to fill any unpredictable awkward silences.
"What do you wanna watch?"
He wasn't focusing on what I said. There was a sparkle in his eyes that gave me a weird tingle in my spine.
He finally spoke, "Cassandra."
"Hmmm?"
"I'm not sure if it's because you've just satisfied the saying a way to a man's heart is his stomach, but you're likeable," he confessed nonchalantly it left me unsettled.
I gave him a look with my eyes widening and my cheeks tinting. Was that a confession? If so, it was a lame one.
Despite I didn't know where exactly he was coming from, I pressed on, "How do you know you like someone, Blake?"
"You think of them pretty often..." he trailed off. His lips tightened in a thin line, then he sighed and continued, "You're interested in them. Wanna know more about them."
I had a passing thought of asking myself whether what he said applied to me or him. I had an uneasy reaction in my gut, an unfamiliar, almost forgotten one. I was fighting my realisation of defining that feeling, but I wasn't one to fool myself.
"But hey, that was just me being frank. You don't have to think of it passionately, and nothing needs to change. I admire you as a person and felt the need to express that."
I grimaced but hid it. Was I getting friend-zoned? I replied with a smile with a deep hue of pink tinting my cheeks. I passed him the plate of biscuits and occupied myself with munching on one too. The guy was only being appreciative, he said. Nothing more, nothing less.
Was that feeling in my stomach a party of butterflies, though?
