Chapter 22 Some weird feelings

Chapter 22 Some weird feelings
Cecilia

I stared at the paper in front of me like it had personally offended me. Which, honestly, it probably had.

Alex’s stupid questions were spread across the table in neat handwriting, every equation looking more annoying than the last.

I tapped my pencil against the side of my cup and squinted harder at one particular problem, as if glaring at it long enough would force the answer to appear. It didn’t. I sighed.

You know that moment when a sudden silence crept into your mind and you're suddenly reminded of something so embarrassing? That was what happened when my mind involuntarily went back to how I was crying over Alex.

Me?

I groaned quietly and dropped my forehead onto the table.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Out of every humiliating thing I had done in my life, and there were many, crying because Alex apologized to me had to rank in the top three. Maybe even number one.

I still didn’t understand why it affected me that much. It wasn’t even a dramatic apology. He hadn’t written me a heartfelt letter or gotten on his knees or whatever people in movies did. He just looked at me with that stupid serious expression and said he was sorry like he actually meant it.

And somehow that had completely wrecked me.

So pathetic.

I sat back up with a sigh and forced myself to focus on the assignment again. A few feet away, Alex moved behind the counter carrying a tray of drinks effortlessly in one hand. He leaned down to say something to an older customer, and the woman laughed immediately.

Traitor.

I narrowed my eyes at him. But for some reason, I couldn't stop myself from looking. His sleeves were rolled up again today, exposing his forearms, and I suddenly noticed how unfairly veiny his hands were, how his dark hair was slightly messy like he’d been running his fingers through it all day, and every now and then he pushed it back absentmindedly while working.

Why did he look like that while making coffee? It should’ve been illegal.

He glanced down at the register with a small frown of concentration and…

I shook my head. I shouldn’t be doing this!
I straightened in my chair. I already survived whatever insanity happened when I was drunk at the party and danced with him. I refused to start over him sober too. My ego will never recover.

My eyes drifted back to him anyway.God, he was annoyingly attractive.

I slapped a hand lightly against my forehead.

“Stop it,” I muttered to myself.

“What are you doing?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. My head snapped up so fast I almost hit him with my pencil.

Alex stood beside my table holding two cups in his hands, one eyebrow raised.

“When did you get here?” I blurted.

“I’ve been standing here for like ten seconds.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Why are you hitting yourself? Is the question that hard?”

Heat crawled up to my face. “I wasn’t hitting myself.”

“You literally were.”

I ignored that. “This one doesn’t make sense.”

I pointed quickly to the question before he could ask anything else. It actually was difficult. Annoyingly difficult.

Alex set the cups down before pulling the empty chair beside mine. He looked over the paper, scanning it for a few seconds and then he started explaining it. And annoyingly enough, he was good at it.

Really good.

He broke the question apart step by step, writing down the process clearly while explaining why each part worked instead of just throwing answers at me. His voice stayed calm the entire time, patient even when I asked him to repeat something twice.

No mockery or smug comments.

I found myself staring at his handwriting and then at his hands. Then the tiny crease between his brows when he concentrated. My brain was becoming a serious problem.

“You’re zoning out again,” Alex said without looking at me.

I blinked in surprise but quickly said, “I’m not.”

“You haven’t written anything for the last minute.”

I immediately grabbed my pencil. “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous activity.”

I glared at him.

He smirked faintly before tapping the paper. “Continue from here.”

Surprisingly, I actually could. The numbers started making sense after that, and when I reached the final answer, I paused.
I got it right. A tiny spark of satisfaction warmed my chest.

Alex leaned back slightly, glancing over my work before nodding once. “See? Not impossible.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you acting normal today?”

He blinked. “What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Liar.

I expected him to make fun of me somehow. At the very least, I expected one annoying comment.

But he didn’t. And somehow, that bothered me.

I stared down at my paper for a second before muttering, “I still hate this subject.”

“That’s obvious.”

I opened my mouth with a comeback ready, but nothing came out. Weirdly enough, I didn’t insult him either. Which honestly felt stranger than the apology.

By the time Alex’s shift ended, the sky outside had already turned dark. He walked beside me toward the parking lot while I held my bag against my side tightly and for once, neither of us argued. It felt unnatural.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he said as we reached my car.

“You noticed?”

He shrugged. “It’s deeply concerning.”

I rolled my eyes and unlocked the car. “Maybe I’m tired of talking to you.”

“That won’t last.”

Unfortunately, he sounded very confident about that. I slid into the driver’s seat and looked up at him through the open window.

He rested one arm against the top of the car casually. “Drive safely.”

The words caught me off guard for some reason.

I recovered quickly. “You sound eighty years old.”

“And you sound annoying. Goodnight, Cecilia.”

Before I could respond, he stepped away from the car. I watched him walk towards the sidewalk for half a second longer than necessary before driving off.



The house was quiet when I got home. Gertrude met me near the dining room with her usual gentle smile. “Welcome back, dear.”

“Thanks.” I slipped my shoes off. “Nobody’s home?”

“They are,” she said carefully. “Your father is in his office. Your mother is working in her room.”

Separate rooms, as usual.

Something about that made my chest feel oddly heavy and it was strange because I was supposed to have been used to that.

I nodded once and headed for the dining table.
Dinner tasted fine, probably. I barely noticed. The same sat with me as I ate alone in the massive room.

It was strange that our house was huge, expensive, beautiful and somehow, still felt hollow.

After dinner, I dragged myself upstairs and changed into pajamas before collapsing onto my bed. I was just about to reach for my lamp when there was a soft knock on my door.

I froze. Nobody knocked on my door. Especially not….

“Cecilia?”

My eyes widened slightly. Mom?

I sat up immediately. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and my mother stepped inside. For a moment, I genuinely thought she might have entered the wrong room.

She stood there still dressed in formal clothes, although her heels were gone. Her makeup looked slightly worn off, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes I’d never really noticed before. She looked tired.

Something twisted uncomfortably in my stomach.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” she said quietly.

I stared at her and swallowed hard.
My mother had never said goodnight to me before. Except when I was little and when I got sick.

But this? It was wrong. Something must’ve happened. I could feel it. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know if I wanted to ask. And I realized that we were standing in awkward silence.

“Goodnight,” I said finally and added a smile.

Whatever was happening, I didn’t care about it. I just wanted to be selfish today and feel like a normal teenager who wanted her mother's love.

So I smiled and whispered, “Goodnight mum.”