Western Waves (Compass 3)
“Can I, uh, help you with something?” she asked, confused by me knocking on her door. “Is everything okay?”
“No.”
“It’s not?”
“I mean, yes.”
“Okay…?”
“I mean,” I grumbled and rubbed the palm of my hand against the back of my neck. “There’s extra.”
“Extra what?”
“Food.”
She smiled more and narrowed her eyes. “I feel like the point you’re getting to is right there, but still, I need to be guided a bit more.”
“There’s extra food if you want it. I made a lot.”
“Don’t you normally save it for leftovers? Isn’t Friday your meal prep day for your upcoming week?”
Did she watch me that closely?
“I have business lunch meetings this coming week. I won’t need it.”
“I don’t want to impose, but if you want me to eat with you—”
“I don’t.”
Her eyes dimmed, and the corner of her mouth twitched as if I made her nervous by snapping. Maple was right. Stella did showcase every single emotion across her face.
“What I mean is, I have work to do. I’ll be eating in my office. But you’re free to eat any remaining food.”
“That’s very nice of you, and I’ll take you up on the offer. Thank you, Damian.”
“Yup.”
“If you ever do want to eat a meal together—”
“Not interested, Stella.”
“Okay then. Have a good night.”
I wanted to tell her, “You too,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
12
Stella
* * *
Damian was a fantastic cook. After I finished eating, I cleaned up the kitchen and then headed to the living room, where I’d end up spending the remainder of my evening. I was able to pick out the movie I wanted to watch, which ended up being one of my favorite romantic comedies. I was almost certain I’d seen every single romantic comedy ever made, even the ones in different languages with subtitles.
If there was a love story, I was going to be there to watch it—with tears and all. Plus, the cornier, the better. Bring on the cheese, Hollywood.
As I sat in the living room with a blanket wrapped around me, Damian walked through the hallway, holding an emptied glass in his hand. His eyes fell on me and then onto the television. He huffed and went to continue his way.
“Don’t do that!” I remarked.
“Do what?”
“Huff at my movie choices.”
“I didn’t huff.”
“Yes, you did. You always huff.”
“If I always huff, how do you know it was at your movie?”
“I, well, I don’t, but it was because of my movie. You did that grumpy frown of yours when you looked at the screen. Don’t deny it.”
“I won’t. I don’t like romantic comedies. They make unrealistic standards for relationships.”
“Uh, news flash, that’s kind of the point. Reality is already bland enough. The movies deserve to be over the top and cheesy.”
“Why would you want to watch something unrealistic?”
“Because I’m manifesting the unrealistic for my reality.”
“Oh. You’re one of them.”
“One of what?”
“Those people who think they can manifest certain things into their lives with their thoughts alone.”
“I do think that your thoughts are a powerful tool, yes. Mock me all you want, but I’ve manifested many things in my life, and it works better when I focus my thoughts.”
“Did you manifest me, Cinderstella?”
“No. I’m still trying to figure out how the heck you ended up here.”
“Probably that one bad thought you had last year or something,” he joked.
He… joked. He was being playful with me. At least I thought he had been. It was hard to read Damian. It was as if his whole existence was written in the ancient Greek text, and I had to use context clues to try to decipher his meaning.
“You’re probably right. You probably showed up after that one night I had explosive diarrhea, and I cussed the universe and asked if they had any other shit to send my way.”
He smiled fully this time—and it stayed a little bit longer than the last one.
Do that more often, Damian.
He tilted his head in pleasure. “You’re welcome.”
I laughed.
I liked this side of him. The one that didn’t feel so heavy. Don’t get me wrong, his stance was still intense, and his posture was still stern, but his eyes… they seemed softer. I wasn’t certain I wanted the interaction to dissipate, so I shifted it.
“So, you’re not into romantic comedies?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then what do you watch?” I arched my eyebrow. “Let me guess, documentaries.”
“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“I don’t… it’s just a boring thing.”
“You think I’m boring?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know? I have no clue what you’re into. You don’t really share much with me.”
“Don’t take it personally. Even though I get the feeling you take everything personally.”
I sat straighter. “I do n…” I started, but the words simmered away from my tongue.
I did take everything personally. It was one of my biggest struggles in life.
“Was that self-realization I just witnessed?” he mentioned.