Wendy

Sometimes you just stare at someone for so long and you forget to look at their faces because you’re too busy looking at their soul.

“Can you not?” he hissed, “It’s creepy.”

“Not what? And what’s creepy?” I put a lot of effort to make my voice sound innocent, like I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he stuffed his mouth with pizza and ignored me, just keep on doing that so I can stare at you, “Staring is rude.”

How is staring at something so beautiful rude? And I’m not talking about his face—although his face is undoubtedly beautiful—I’m talking about something more. Not just his face. He’s more than that. Everyone’s more than that. Someone’s face could be filled with pimple marks and acne and scars and I think they’re still beautiful.

“Can we go now and get some yogurt?”

“Go get some yourself.” But I’m asking you to come with me!

“You’re done with your pizza. Now can you please go with me?” He’s a freaking pig, it’s annoying. He sleeps after eating. “I’ll treat you.”

“Thank you but I can buy my own yogurt.” He might be beautiful, face and soul, but he’s also an . That’s part of his charm and it should be endearing but it isn’t.

I sighed, sat beside him and tried to steal his keys from his pocket but he moved so quickly I never had the chance to even touch them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” there’s a funny look in his face with a hint of amusement, “I didn’t know you’re that wild?”

“Shut up. I’m just trying to get your keys,” he raised an eyebrow, “What? I’ll drive myself there,” as if, “and just in case you didn’t noticed, you’re extra hyper today.”

“It’s because I had pizza,” he rolled his eyes and handed me his keys “Go drive, just make sure to take care of my baby.” Baby my .

I stormed out of his apartment—he used to live with Jackson and bunch of other people but according to Jackson, Mark is “sensitive” to noise so he left. But I think Jackson just told me a few days ago that he’ll be moving in next to Mark’s unit next month. Mark has no idea about Jackson’s plan.

And why the hell did he hand me his keys? Did he, Mark, not know that I can’t drive for the life of me? I was just trying to get him go out with me and have some yogurt but he handed me his keys and it doesn’t help that I have too much pride to admit that I can’t drive.

It took me twenty minutes to arrive at the yogurt store and another twenty minutes back to Mark’s apartment. I didn’t buy him some glorious yogurt.

He looked at me when I entered his apartment and then ignored me like he always does.

And I’m more than disappointed that my yogurt is not frozen anymore. The sprinkles melted already and the fruits look… soggy. I tasted a little and it’s still delicious but no longer fun.

I might be a little crazy but I only like it when it’s frozen. I sighed because I’m just so disappointed. I never thought that yogurt can disappoint me this much. Or maybe I’m just really disappointed that he didn’t accompany me.

I throw the spoon and covered my little cup of happiness with foil (I wrote my name on the cup just in case he’ll eat it). I stored it in his mini fridge and sighed. Again. I’ve been sighing a lot these days.

Maybe I should leave.

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