Chapter twelve

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Once I got home, I walked upstairs with my newly bought stuff and happened to run into Yao. "Oh, hi! How are the kids?" I smiled and asked. "They are great! How are you and Francis?" Yao laughed and winked. Remembering the book, I looked seriously, causing him to jump a little. "Arthur?" Yao asked, scared. "Ahh... about that... would you say he you know...?" My eyes widened in a "you know what I mean" way. Yao caught on quickly and laughed. "What I think is not for you to know; I will just let you figure that out" Yao laughed and started heading for his door. "Wait! What do you mean by that?" I asked and came closer to him. "It means that if you don't even know yourself, I am not the one to tell you. It means you need to figure that out yourself" Yao smiled at me. He did have a point; I am not even sure what I mean; I need to get my head together first. I nodded at him, letting him enter his apartment room.

 
This is hard. I looked at my book and went to my room fast to continue to read it. "Oh, Arthur!" I heard a voice from behind me. I jumped and turned around quickly, seeing Francis behind me in his uniform. "Are you not supposed to be at work?" I hid the bag of yarn behind my back. "Yes, I just needed a certain pan from my apartment, so I ran back over here quickly," he said, slowing down his pace after seeing me. "Ahhh, I see" I smiled and laughed. I looked down at his feet, and they were facing me. I moved over to the side, and his feet continued to meet me. "What are you doing?" He asked, stepping closer. "No, what are you doing!?" I shouted, trying to move, so his feet weren't facing me. He looked so confused at me every time he switched his position to look at me.

 
"What's that book you have?" Francis asked to take it out of my hand. I freaked out and slammed my door open. "I have to go!" I shouted and went into my apartment, quickly closing the door on a confused Francis. "That was close" was all I could think as I slid down to breathe. I felt my cheeks were on fire from turning a deep red color. "What is wrong with me? I am overthinking about this!" I slapped myself in the face and shook my head. If he...if he does see me THAT way, what would happen? Do I even feel the same way? What if I am wrong about all of this? So many questions went through my head that I felt myself getting dizzy. I decided to make some tea to calm my thoughts. Who knows if it actually will? I sat on my couch and held the book in my hand, debating whether to keep reading. If I do, I could be wrong, but he could actually......if I do not read it, I won't know, and it will be a mystery. After a long debate with myself, the kettle started to make a noise, and I stood up to get it and quickly made my tea. I stirred a spoon in the small glass cup and sat back on my seat.

"It could not hurt to know," I finally said and went to the table of contents. I flipped to page 33, which is how to know if they are in love with....the person.

1. The Frenchman will always make it his initiative to see you happy and cared for. This reason is that seeing their lives sad makes them highly uncomfortable. The same goes for if you are being hurt by someone else. The Frenchman will blow a "fuse" and do anything in his power to ensure you are safe and happy.

2. The Frenchman wants to share themselves with you, meaning it could be sexually or romantically. For example, they offer to do things for you to have a piece of them. This could include cooking homemade gifts or even changing them up in the bedroom.

3. The Frenchman is always thinking about you, there might be cases in which you won't know, but in some instances, the Frenchman will be open about his love and tell you.

4. The Frenchman will always express himself, in hints or bluntly. Sometimes they could be embarrassed about your response to their feelings and will try to tone down their slight confessions to ensure you are comfortable.

5. They sometimes stamper/ get embarrassed at the sight of you or when they talk to or face you. This means deep conversations or laughable ones.

I stopped reading and held my forehead in my palm to think about all the times Francis had gotten red or nervous for no reason, and I was externally confused. Not only that! Francis cooks for me every night like some Wife! And those times, he gets uncomfortable when I am not happy, and he tries to cheer me up as much as he can. Or a year ago......when I...I almost got robbed. He swooped in to save me. Wait ! No! Any person would jump in and help another person, right?
Even if that does count, that would mean his "feelings" would go back from a year ago to when we first met; that would not be possible; we hardly knew each other.

 I slapped my forehead trying to think, and I was so confused. This book does not prove anything, and I need an actual confession before I believe it; for now, he is my friend, and that is all he sees me as—nothing more and nothing less. I tossed the book to the side and grabbed the yarn to start working on a scarf that I was making him.
For being a good FRIEND.


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Thank you for reading so far!

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