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"He said what?!" Imogen's screech sliced through the silence that once filled my room.

It was Sunday, equivalent to my day off. And now, after the new addition of Vanessa Koll a few weeks ago, Sundays were also tantamount to Imogen's free day. Which was why, she decided that it was best to celebrate her first Sunday day-off with me by popping by my house around noon with a paper bag filled with Chinese takeaway bags.

"Yes. I just told you." My fingers tightly curled around the wodden chopsticks, pushing it to the bottom of the fried rice box that I held.

Imogen huffed and placed down her chopsticks atop my nightstand. The sticks making a click sound when it hit the tabletop. "What did you say? Did you like, told him that you like him too? Or, or, did you kiss him? Tell me, tell me!"

Her high enthusiasm about anything that had to do with my non-existent love life has always been a no-brainer. Imogen was a born hopeless-romantic and today was no different.

I pursed my lips and her face fell. "No," Imogen said, clearly disappointed. "Nothing happened?"

I shook my head.

"You mean nothing? As in nothing—nada?"

"Nada." Her face contorted at my admission and her shoulders visibly slumped in defeat.

I didn't know why but somehow talking about that night irritates me a little. Especially when I had to defend my decisions and actions to Imogen who had always been persistent in supporting my potential "love-interests" as she liked to call it. I didn't feel like justifying why I did what I did. Simply for two main reasons: 1. It probably meant nothing to you and more importantly so; 2. I couldn't even explain my actions—or in this case, lack thereof—myself.

However, what surprised me was the warmth that followed the stinging of my skin when Imogen slapped my arm, causing me to gasp out in pain and to glare at my friend. "The fuck, Imogen? What was that about?"

"It's about your fucking stupidity, you idiot. You should've grabbed his shoulders and smothered him with kisses by then! God! Imagine all the things you could've done by now if only you weren't such a coward." This accusation didn't help ease my temper one bit.

"I am not a coward."

"Then what are you, then?" She raised a well-shaped brow, almost challengingly and I released a chuckle. Even though I get annoyed at her most of the times for pushing her fantasies to my face to become a hopeless reality, I still loved her and it probably didn't help that she looked so confident with the idea that I didn't know how to respond to her. But that was where she got it all wrong; the sad thing was - I perfectly knew what.

I smiled sadly, eyes falling to my lap. "I'm just someone who thinks that she deserves something better than false hope. I'm just being human. Is it so wrong?"

-

"Hey, I have some juicy stuff to tell you." Imogen pulled down the magazine that I was reading and plopped down beside me at the chair she pulled out for herself.

It was now five in the afternoon and we just finished two slices of black forest cake in celebration of Cake Day. I raised a brow and closed the magazine, placing it atop the dining table.

"What?"

A mischievous gleam filled her bright green eyes, causing an uneasy feeling to fill my gut. The last time I saw this kind of expression on her face, we both ended up working on our day off without pay.

"Oh, no." I shook my head as I leaned away from her. "Not that look on your face."

Her expression changed, lips dropping into a frown. "What look?"

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