eleven: eclair

A day has passed since that infuriating time when Kris spoke to me in Chinese, leaving me forever in a state of confusion as to what he last said to me before leaving my apartment. The only way I’m going to get him to bow down in appreciation for having to put up with him is to beat him in our promised cook off (which to be honest, has a date that has yet to be decided).

I sighed as I flipped my phone, half regretting and half pleased to know that I allowed him to forcefully insert his number in here. Now we won’t stop texting each other; which, in all honesty, is a little freaky... It feels good, but it’s still freaky.

My cellphone buzzed as I lazily hung around my room, going through my computer to better improve my chances at winning that cook off. I figured that I’d search for recipes we haven’t even tried yet, also so I could give him a shock for having done something he never would’ve expected me to do. Considering the phone was in my hand as I was flipping it open, I immediately saw his name flash before my screen. I made a face at nothing in particular, not really admitting to myself that seeing his name flash before my screen as something that was making me incredibly happy. Why would I be happy, anyway? It’s not like I have to be. Right?

I’m making myself sound incredibly stupid. I clicked the message open and tried not to blush.

I hope you’re spending your time wisely instead of just waiting for my replies to your clingy messages.

Clingy?! Who’s being clingy here?! Who’s the one who decided to put their number in someone’s phone? Who’s the one who insisted on texting me every night to make sure I had locked my place? I pouted but the other half of my brain (the stupid one) thought back – ah, but then again, who was the one that sent messages since this morning asking if he would come over for another lesson? Who was the one who wouldn’t stop checking his phone while searching for recipes? Well, that would be me.

Stupid brain.

In my embarrassment at my own thoughts, I hastily replied; thumb crashing at the keys in record speed.

Stupid! I’m not being clingy! I was just asking when our next lesson’s gonna be but then someone had to go on about other things!

Well, it’s true! Here I was, asking him innocently if he was going to come today but then out of the blue, he goes on and asks me about other irrelevant things – what did I have for breakfast, did I have groceries in my cabinets, am I hungry and all that crap. I ran a hand through my hair.

“He wouldn’t be asking me if he never found out about all of those things,” I mumbled to myself, the stupid side of my brain acting up again. I hit myself. “Argh! Enough!” I hate to admit it but thinking about Kris has given me a lot of problems lately and I’m not talking about cooking. Ever since that time in his house where we shared about a dozen kisses, my mind has been dutifully reminding me to practically swoon every morning at the mere thought of him coming over. It’s not that I’m excited; I’m more on the nervous side. What if he does that again? What if he kisses me again? What am I going to do? I mean, I’d kiss him back, sure – but then what happens next? Weren’t we just a teacher and a student before all of this started? I don’t think kissing is any part of whatever curriculum or lesson plan the cooking school has for apprentice teachers!

Thud. I slammed my head on my desk, feeling pathetic. My cheeks were as hot as a volcano, even more so when I pressed them against my cool table. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t want to think about him. It’s hard enough to cook, what more cook while having thoughts of him kissing me with him standing beside me!

My phone buzzed and I wiggled in my seat. I don’t want to look but I found myself doing so anyway. I have to stop. I have to concentrate on beating the crap out of him but why...?

I opened his message.

Well, at least knowing about those ‘other things’ put me at ease.

I blushed and shut my eyes, throwing my phone aside.

Why does he have to be like this?

“What the hell am I doing?” I asked myself for the nth time of the day as I miraculously found myself trudging my way to Kris’s cooking school. He had mentioned earlier that he couldn’t have our lesson today because he has something to do at school. So the guy is busy, that’s pretty normal, but then what am I doing walking all the way over there?! That’s not normal!

I stopped in the middle of the side walk and did a little spasm, earning a few strange looks from people passing by. What the hell am I doing? Seriously?! Why do I have to go all the way to his cooking school? What for? To have a look at him? Hah! No way!

I turned around to head back only to turn around again towards the direction of his school.

Or maybe that’s why I’m going there.... T-To see him?

I blushed and tried to control my gut area. It had been pretty light lately, like I had those butterflies in my stomach feeling. At first I thought it was hunger but I didn’t even feel hungry. I didn’t even have a pretty decent appetite lately. But I should probably hide that from Kris. If he finds out, he’ll go bananas. I made my way again, slapping my forehead with my hand in the hopes of trying to make sense of what I’m doing with my life right now. Ever since Kyungsoo’s visit to my house, I’ve been thinking of these very strange thoughts about Kris – like how I have to see him or I have to get him to talk to me or something like that. It’s freaking me out.

I arrived in front of his school and stood by the entrance like an idiot. I don’t want to go in. I’m afraid to go in. I fear that if I go in, I’ll never be able to get out. I looked hopelessly at the sky for some kind of miracle.

“God, please, give me a sign that this is all just a really, really long dream.” I chanted and then suddenly, I felt a push from behind and my face slammed the glass door. “Ugh!”

“S-Sorry!” Came a male voice from behind me.

What? Seriously, God? You trying to kill me? On second thought, who in the hell is this freak that pushed me—“No, i-it’s all right, it’s my fault for standing here.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. When I turned around, a bunch of fruits were rolling on the steps as they fell from the bags they were in. “Ah, no, it’s my fault for spacing out.” He added.

Huh. I bent down to help him pick up his fruits, “Here you go.”

“Oh, thank you... uh...”

“Park Chanyeol.” I smiled politely and he smiled back.

“Zhang... Zhang Yixing.” He extended out his hand, giving me a bigger smile that showed his dimple at one cheek. “It’s a little hard to say so just Lay is fine.”

What is it with Chinese people and their pennames? I shook his hand. “Then you can call me Chanyeol.”

“Chanyeol... Chanyeol...” He hummed, like my name was some kind of lyric to a song. I raised my eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Where have I heard your name before?”

My name is around town now? I blushed. “Ah... I think you made a mistake—“

“Yixing!” Suddenly, my ears sprang to life at that familiar tone. I found myself turning around only to be face to face with the epitome of mystery that has been giving me headaches lately. Kris had opened the glass door and was equally surprised to see me standing behind it as well. He had donned on that pristine white apprentice uniform that should’ve been illegal for him to wear. He blinked, eyeing me from head to toe as if I was just an illusion. “Chanyeol?”

Dang, my name coming out from his mouth—“What?” I spat rudely.

He narrowed his eyes as if I was at fault. “What are you doing here?”

“.... Nothing.” I looked aside; catching Lay’s spaced out look.

“Ah.” He said before he snapped his fingers. “I remember now!”

“What?” Both Kris and I asked him simultaneously and I had to scold and tell myself that I didn’t like being in sync with him. I don’t! I don’t like it!

“Chanyeo