Chapter 11
Dafne
I tell Ollie I have a headache, which I do, and not to wait for me for lunch, because there’s no chance in hell I’m telling him or Phoebe anything of what happened earlier–what I almost did, rather–until I sort it out with me, myself and I. Wrapping myself in my black wool coat and putting on sunglasses, I walk to my favorite tea shop down the street from APDAS. As I’m about to push the door open, someone shouts a Yo Dafne at my back.
Uh, well.
I turn around with my hand still on the handle, my eyebrows bunching when I notice a blond bloke looking left and right before crossing the street although not a single car is passing.
“Ethan, yeah?” I ask when he’s closer, and I’m fairly sure he was the one who helped me set the projector up when I took my two-week intensive stage photography course for extra credits last year; it looked very expensive, and I didn’t want to fry it inside out by pushing the wrong button.
“It me,” he grins. “How’s it going?” he rests one hand on his hip as the other pushes a lock of pale blond hair behind an ear. I should ask what conditioner he uses.
“I’m good,” I smile, pushing my sunglasses on top of my head. I’m not about to dash my problems to a half-stranger. “Hope everything’s fine for you too.”
“Yeah, all is chill,” he says, dragging out the word.
There’s a beat of awkward silence, and I decide I’m just really hungry, so I say, “Well, I was about to…” I move my thumb towards the door.
“No, totally, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to grab a bite sometime.”
I tilt my head, slightly confused. Is he asking me out?
“Alone?” I ask for clarification.
“Well, I think there might be other people if it’s a place where they make food,” he says pensively, as if he were actually weighing the possibility.
“Right,” I drawl, my attention caught by someone huffing impatiently next to me because I’m blocking the entrance. Ever heard of speaking? Is anyone not passive-aggressive anymore?
As for the invitation, I’m not sure what to make of it, and as I move from the door I say, “Ethan I’m flattered, truly, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.” Unless he randomly decided he wants a new friend, in which case I’ve just made a fool of myself by assuming anything.
“There’s no harm in getting something to eat, right? I promise not to ask you to marry me,” he grins.
I guess he’s right. And when was the last time I socialised with someone who wasn’t Ollie or Phoebe or one of my classmates?
“If you promise,” I concede then with a smile, and when I ask if he wants to save my number, he tells me he already has it. Odd, because I don’t remember giving it to him. He winks at me in goodbye, and I’m left to wonder whether I’ve just made a mistake.