Chapter 51: I hate you

The fact that only Evan and I lived on the eighth floor of the condominium already felt empty at some point when we didn't get to see each other, with our times mostly overlapping with each other, already irritated me a little for no acceptable reason. There were nights he wouldn't be sleeping at his unit, and then if he went home in the morning to sleep, I'd be in Paper Chase indulging myself with paper works. Now, it even got worse. I could barely see him in his unit. Sometimes, I would just pretend that I was alone on the eighth floor, which was a ludicrous idea to even think about. Evan finally released his full album last week, and what made the moment even more thrilling was that his album charted in all music charts. I could attest to that, as I had the chance to listen to it a few days before his actual comeback. And honestly, Evan was a genius artist, as evident in his works. I could not deny that it made me happy to see that his album turned out to be successful, even though Evan had doubts about it. I probably must've given him a congratulatory kind of hug already if only I could attend his album showcase or if I were with him right now. That might be a forward and shameless gesture, but he'd certainly appreciate it. Except that we've never seen each other ever since his album showcase. And the situation somehow affected me in some ways, even though there was no reason to get affected. Right, one reason: Having romantic feelings for someone meant you have this itsy-bitsy hope of wanting to see their presence often. Days and nights at the condominium felt oddly empty without Evan's presence. Or perhaps, my mind was too uncontrollable to stop it from thinking about him even though I shouldn't have. The feeling was strange, really peculiar, and didn't make much sense to me. Even before Evan occupied his unit, I was used to this kind of silence surrounding me. So what suddenly changed? My life in the past few days was quite alright, too. Not to boast, but I could say that I spent those days well: I had already finished 25 chapters of Ms. Grace's book, and I was planning on finishing the whole story sooner. I finally did some modifications to my proposed novel, I've gotten a new client lined up after I finish Ms. Grace's book, and I had a great time spending my free hours binge-watching the re-run of The Big Bang Theory and some other shows I stopped watching months ago. On Sunday, Kayla came over to my unit for some noodles and soda. With her utmost concern, she spent a couple of times trying to convince me to tell Evan my feelings-more like, to confess to him finally wholeheartedly. But thankfully, it took five pots of noodles and three cans of soda to finally stop her stubbornness from ordering me to do such a thing. "You're so unfair," Kayla bleated, a can of soda that seemed to have a tremendous amount of sodium in her hand. "You intentionally made me eat a lot, so I would stop bugging you from confessing the truth to Evan, didn't you?" I puffed a wistful sigh and chugged my soda before turning to her. "I have nothing to tell him. It's better if he doesn't know anything." Gilmore Girls was running in the background on a big television screen, but neither of us noticed how Jess was bugging Rory. "I don't want to complicate things between him and me." Kayla giggled, acting like she was getting drunk even though we only drank sodas. "Misty, I don't want to interfere, but you know I really love you, so I just want you to be clarified about things because it's so obvious that you have questions or things you're curious about." She opened another packet of noodles. I raised a brow, puzzled about what Kayla meant. "And why do I need some clarification?" The corner of Kayla's eyes crinkled, and her hand was on an immediate halt from pouring water on the heated used pot. "Are you being serious right now?" "Whatever you mean?" I feigned a smile. Kayla hastily put down the bottled water and reached for my hand. "Don't you think Evan deserves to know what you truly feel? He's a great person, Misty. And there's nothing wrong in admitting things which could make your mind at ease from being so squeezed out about the situation. You have to let it out." She squeezed my hand tighter. "Evan has feelings, too, Misty. If you just keep on avoiding this matter, you'd eventually feel odd and perhaps distance yourself from him. You could hurt him. He deserves to know the truth. After all, he's been so kind to you, right?" I studied Kayla's concerned and worried face for a moment, silently thinking that there was something fond knowing that Kayla has always been here for me. It's something reassuring and precious. Unsure of what to say, I sighed and settled for a plain: "Yeah." "You could clarify things about him, Misty. It might be a bit straightforward, but he always gives these sweet signs to you." My eyebrows narrowed, and deep vertical lines were evident on my forehead. "Huh? Signs? What are you even talking about?" "Signs, hints, gestures that he probably feels the same way towards you." I felt a pang in my heart. There was a sudden sensation of heat forming on my sternum. For such an assumption to happen, I must dare and prove the impossibility as possible. Add to the fact that I was way out of Evan's league. I bite my lip, suddenly thinking about Zoe- the situation didn't require it. Her goddess-like, timeless beauty, attractive body, milk-like dashing skin, and bold aura. If Evan had a thing for her before-a real-life representation of authentic beauty and charm-I'd stand no chance. I shrugged the thought off and hastily drank my bubbling soda, its high sodium content whirling in my throat down to my chest, in that spot that seemed to have felt Evan's absence. When I finally collected myself, I moved a little to Kayla's position and leaned the side of my head to her shoulder. "Don't eat all the noodles," I chuckled, playing with Kayla's fingers. "I need to have an extra energy if I do what you told me to do, so just in case I pass out of embarrassment-foolish humiliation-I'd still manage to get up." Kayla looked at me with an amused expression, unsure of what I had just said. But five seconds later, she burst into a big whoop of laughter. ****** In the preceding days, my life went normal as usual: I woke up in the mornings and encouraged myself to go to work with enthusiasm as much as I could, although the coldness would drag me back to bed, which I tried to fight often; went to Kayla's Cafe for at least two times a day for caffeinated drinks that I needed to refuel my exhaustion; had an excellent endless laugh continuing watching The Big Bang Theory episode I left off the last time I watched it while eating a nearly-expired vanilla-flavored popcorn I found hiding in the far side part inside my cupboard; may or may not have kicked Evan's door countless times for no other plausible reason but to vent out my irritation of not having to see him; made modifications on the chapters of my book; and finally, I was closed to finishing the review for Ms. Grace's revision. Or maybe not. Not absolutely normal. My days were not as lively compared to when Evan would usually consider bugging me-my days were utterly dull, to be short. There was a pinch in my mind, a little hurtful kind of tweak, making me think that I'd rather think of something else to do aside from reviewing the revision of Ms. Grace's book and making modifications to my book. There must be someone else I should be thinking about. Someone I'd rather spend my empty and boring days with. Except that I still hadn't seen him ever since he got so busy with his work, which was understandable. On the day of Evan's album showcase, Ms. Grace suggested that we work via email since it was pretty impossible for me to always tag along with her being completely busy managing Evan and his schedule. One week after the showcase, Evan already had several radio guestings, pre-recordings for variety shows, magazine interviews, and photoshoots. Most of all, he performed in different music shows every day. It must be exhausting, but knowing Evan's determination and passion, it's so admirable that he'd always do his best because he loved his work. "He better eat dinner already," I sighed, thinking if Evan had been eating these days properly, and leaned on my door with my energy drooping already. I thought it was instead a stupid act as I felt my knees suddenly wobble, making me hold on to the door frame and escape from my daydreaming session-more like thinking whether or not Evan was inside his Unit. However, such a thought was nearly unlikely because I could feel how deafening the silence was from inside his Unit. And the fact that his Spongebob Squarepants doormat wasn't changed for a week now-he would change his doormat into one of Spongebob Squarehouse's characters every week, which I found rather cute-already meant that he hadn't seen an extra time to even go back to his Unit yet. "Stupid," I hissed to myself, massaged my weakened knees, and leaned on my door again, my foot slowly stomping the marbled floor while randomly counting the stomps and staring intensely at Evan's closed door. The lifeless thing might as well melt like a lighted candle left overnight by how I piercingly stared at it, mentally wishing that somehow my wishful hope of seeing him tonight would come true, given all the circumstances. I looked at Evan's door even more intensely before I heaved a deep sigh. All my oxygen probably might've pumped out of my lungs. "When will you show up?" I uttered with a very reassuring voice of mine. So, this is how you would feel when you're into someone; when you're in love with someone, I suddenly thought: Constantly checking my KakaoTalk message and Instagram direct message section, with the silly hope that Evan might send me a message or his hilarious memes created by his fans; checking my social media accounts to get updated on Evan's schedule; spinning around in my living room after I went out of my Unit and leaned my ear to Evan's door to check if he was inside; hiding my face in deep embarrassment after foolishly mistaking some of my work colleagues with mullet hairstyles and soft voice as Evan, when it was impossible for him to visit me at Paper Chase; the thought of him suddenly flashing in my mind when Kayla played his new songs at her cafe-an apparent move of her to make me talk about Evan and eventually attack my one-sided feelings. "I hate you," I said nonchalantly and stood adequately, still staring at Evan's door as though it would talk back to me any second from now. "A single message or call would suffice, you know?" I scoffed. At that point, I slowly approached his door and suddenly thought of a silly and cheeky act just to kill time of hopelessly thinking about him. I cleared my throat to avoid letting my suppressed chuckle come out as a laugh even though I hadn't done anything yet. "Okay!" I exclaimed. "I hate it when you're not around . . ." I emotionally uttered in my Kat Stratford-a character from 10 Things I Hate About You-using some points I learned in drama club back in high school. "And the fact that you didn't call . . ." I faked a nose sniffing, put my hand over my chest as though it was hurting deep inside, and kicked Evan's door with my collective energy. "But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not-" "I wasn't informed you're Kat Stratford now-" "Shit!" I squealed, my hands clutching my chest as I tried to catch my breath. "E-Evan, w-what are you . . . You startled me!" Evan only smirked. "Why would you kick my door? And why were you having a Kat Stratford moment? You know my door's not going to talk back." He raised a brow as he crossed his arms over his chest and slowly approached me like a big predator hunting his tiny prey. "Did you switch to an acting career now? I could refer you to Wonderland Entertainment," he chuckled with his usual time-to-make-fun-of-someone kind of tone. I shrugged and waved my hands, foolishly scraping off away the embarrassment. "No. I just felt like, uh, reciting those lines," I stuttered, and I couldn't find a more plausible reason. Tell him that I hated it? That I hadn't seen him in days made me sick? And then what? I would feel even more ashamed. If this was the cause of missing someone-who had no idea of your feelings for him-when you were not supposed to because it's silly, then so be it. I looked at Evan, who was leaning on his door, his eyebrows narrowing, probably trying to make himself believe what I had just said. "Oh, I see." Evan nodded and chuckled. "My door was your audience and you really had to kick the poor thing-" "It's actually none of your business." Crap, Misty. You're hopeless, I mused. You wished for him to show up days ago, and now that he's here in front of you, you're starting an argument with him. Grow up! Evan stared at me for a moment, and then the corner of his lips twitched. "Right. Of course, it's none of my business that you kicked my door," he prattled nonchalantly. His voice sounded like he was on the brink of getting furious at me. Except that he sweetly smiled suddenly, his crescent moon-like eyes visible. "Understood. I'll just go back to the company and make a draft of my property damage complaint so I could submit it to the Gangnam Police Department later after-" "What?! No, I didn't ruin your door, and it's-" "Opening my notes . . ." he said, his fingers busy tapping on his phone. "Evan, look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kick your door. I was"-I cleared my throat for no plausible reason except to buy time to make Evan magically take back what he said about the complaint-"just into the character so much. Please don't report me. I really thought your door was going to kick me back-" Evan snorted. Though the subtle upward quirk of his mouth suggested, he was smothering a laugh. "Kick you back?" This time, he let out a laugh. "Hmm, could it be . . ." he trailed off, his hand coming up to his chin. "What?" My eyes widened. No, no. There was no way he could know that I secretly wished for his presence. And that now he showed up, my mind was swarming with overwhelming and mixed thoughts, which possibly looked evident to him. "Were you secretly waiting for me to come out of this door?" Boom. At this rate, I would assume Evan had studied a course relating to reading people's minds and feelings-if there was such a thing. "No!" I shuddered, and I should've slapped myself for being such a liar. "I just like Kat's poem. I, uh, I kind of memorized that back in high school. And that part was-" "Which part?" he asked. "The 'And the fact that you didn't call' part?" I said with a sarcastic voice. "Anyway, it's not important. I-" Evan's lips suddenly pursued a smile like a bright thought occupied his mind, which immediately caught me off guard. Not that I was actually staring at his lips. "What? Why are you smiling like a creep?" "I tried calling you several times." My neurons froze and ultimately became cold as an iceberg. A little after, my mind-no, my brain-nervously stammered like it was on the verge of jumping out of my head. My throat abruptly felt dry, and I couldn't utter a word. And it took me a couple of seconds to process what Evan had just said. He spoke it casually like he took my dramatic self seriously and that it didn't bother him that someone hopeless like me was thinking about him. "Wait. What? Why? I don't understand . . ." I trailed off, stuttering and unsure of what to say. I couldn't quite grasp what he meant. Did he really call me several times? But how on earth did I not receive any of his calls when I constantly checked my phone, waiting for his name to pop on my phone. It didn't make sense. Why didn't I receive any of it? Was he just telling a bluff so he could go along with my sudden 10 Things I Hate About You Drama? "I did call you, but your line was always unavailable. My calls wouldn't get through." The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense to me. "You could've sent me a direct message on Instagram, then," I mumbled but later regretted it because that likely came out a bit straightforward and as if I was confronting him. He would think that I required him to update me as though I was a particular person to him. "Ah, no. That sounded wrong." I cleared my throat. "And not that I'm asking you to send me a message on Instagram. Just that-Ah, never mind." "I forgot my Instagram password," he grinned. "I somehow logged out of my account. Anyway, did you perhaps change your contact number? Even Grace-noona couldn't get a hold of you the past few days. She said you guys would converse about her book via email, but she always forgot to ask if you change your contact number." Suddenly, a flicker went back to my brain. "Well, I . . ." I trailed off and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You're actually . . ." The main reason I didn't receive any of his calls had finally dawned on me like a punching bag making its way back to my face after I weakly hit it. I bit into my lower lip, thinking what another embarrassment I made in Evan's presence. "What?" "I did. I actually changed my number," I denoted and immediately covered my face with my hands so Evan could not see my ashamed, awful face. "My phone accidentally got drenched in the sink while I was washing some fruits and vegetables. I was busy watching something on my laptop to notice my phone sliding down the sink while the water was running. So I didn't realize what happened until a full 10 minutes had passed and-" I realized I was rambling things that Evan couldn't care less about when I could've simply said the main reason. "Long story short, my sim card got ruined," I denoted. "But my phone is working fine. I was stupid even to call the warranty service team. They reminded me that my phone is water-proofed, and they had a good laugh about it." I eventually burst into fits of laughter, my hands holding my sides as if I suddenly had a stomachache. "Really, so stupid-What?" "You really have an amusing way to tell things." "Uhm, thank you?" "What I'm trying to say was . . . You're cute," Evan mumbled, which probably made my cheeks red, but I managed to keep my smile in place. "Anyway, go change your clothes." "Why? I'm going to sleep in a while. Why would I change my clothes?" "I'm taking you out." "W-what?!" I exclaimed; my eyes widened in an immense size they could. "Instead of you having a 'Kat Stratford' moment while kicking my door, why don't you just join me over a dinner?" I racked my brain, mentally thinking if I heard Evan correctly. I knew I heard him so well unless I had ruptured ears. For a moment, his prospect made me smile. I liked the thought. Maybe through this, we could talk about things-unresolved and contained questions that needed some clarifications. Of course, I could say that my confidence would probably betray me. "I don't have an appetite to eat, but it's your treat, so why would I disregard a blessing?" I chuckled. "I didn't expect you'd know about Kat Stratford, though." "I used '10 Things I Hate About You' as the inspiration for my title track." "Really? That's so cool." "And I'm asking you for dinner because my song won in today's music show. I want to celebrate with you a little." I brought my hands to my mouth to cover my big gasp as I was so surprised and happy by his sudden news. I knew Evan winning in a music show would happen, but it felt great to hear him tell me the information himself. "Evan, that's so . . .great!" I hastily threw myself to him to give him a big hug, my hands wrapped around his torso as tight as possible. "Congratulations, Evan. I know you worked so hard on this album. So, you deserve that." It took a full minute to realize the enormity of what I had just done. Shameless of me, if you would ask me. I looked up at Evan, and there was something I couldn't quite decipher in his expression because I was distracted by how tall and attractive he was, and my neck was starting to hurt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Before I could even unclasp myself from Evan, he suddenly enfolded me with his arms, his warmth and woody scent smoothly blanketing my body. I wanted to let go, run away, hide in the darkest part of my cabinet-which probably had some cobwebs already-and weep there until I forgot what I had just done. But Evan wouldn't let go of me, his hand on my back and his free hand caressing my hair. Full of gentleness, like I was a kid who needed some sympathy upon losing in a writing competition. "You didn't wash your hair?" he chuckled as his hug became tighter. "Hey! I did-" "When?" "Yesterday . . ." I looked up to Evan. And up. And a bit more up before scrunching my nose, almost wanting to punch his face and free myself from him, even though it was apparent by his towering height and built body that it would take him zero effort to make me stay in my position. But then again, I didn't want to break the moment. I wanted to feel it because I knew after this night, Evan was going to be busy again, and it scared me for a moment that I won't be able to see him often again. "You should wash it again." I clicked my tongue, and Evan returned the look to me. In the following seconds, we found ourselves staring at each other, a prominent and genuine smile plastered on our lips. And then burst into a big whoop of laughter. "What do you want to eat?" he asked, not breaking the hug. We might've been hugging each other for about five minutes now, but neither let go. "Burger?" "And then you will just remove the tomatoes?" "Says the man who removes the onions in the burger?" Evan slowly let go of me and fixed my now messy hair before beginning back to put the passcode of his unit. When his door successfully opened, he turned to look at me once more. He was staring at me for a long time, suddenly looking like I was a screen monitor where all his music-related things could be seen. "Misty?" "What?" "What would you do without me? Are you just going to keep removing tomatoes from your burgers?" he asked with a smirk. "Are you just going to keep removing onions from your burgers?" I fumed back. "Touché."