“Thirty-nine point four degrees.”

 

I flinched at her tone, shutting my eyes gently to avoid the heated glare that would gradually make its way towards my face. And based on past experiences, I know I would not want to be in its trajectory..

 

No. Way.

 

“Huang Zitao,” A loud sigh resounded within my room, and if she had decided to sigh even louder, I swear the sound would echo throughout the empty household. “What in heavens did you do yesternight for you to end up with such a fever?”

 

Keeping my eyes closed, I gingerly replied, “Uh, nothing?”

 

I heard the rustle of clothes and I could visualise the girl crossing her arms over her chest, eyes still staring heatedly at me even while she tilted her body, resting her weight on one long leg instead of two. When you’ve known someone for all your life, it’s hard to not let your mind imagine the scene before you; even if all you heard were just sounds.

 

She cleared pointedly.

 

“Alright…” I relented, slowly opening my eyes as my brain concluded that such a time was appropriate and best to do so. They trailed up her face, but I rested them on her nose instead. Her eyes seemed too malicious to be in contact with (read: I fear for my life). “I had a drink with my colleagues yesternight because they wanted to celebrate my birthday…”

 

“Just one drink?”

 

My eyes stayed on her nose.

 

“What… do you think…?”

 

She groaned loudly, monstrously loud in fact, and I half-expected the whole community to have had heard her. Two delicate fingers pinched her nose ridge, and her face scrunched up in supposed exasperation, her eyes shutting softly. “Zitao…”

 

I gulped, still fearing for my life as her eyes flew open and I expected to be glared at furiously but all I saw in those orbs were genuine concern and affection. My fear had all but seeped out of me by then as I let myself be surprised by her emotions.

 

“You know you can’t hold your alcohol well, yet you still–” She stopped herself then, another sigh slipping out of her lips like it was the most natural thing in her world. Her eyes darted to me, the affection within akin to mothers softly judging their badly behaved children.

 

Huh. I thought that... the affection wouldn't be... platonic.

 

Dammit.

 

"Nevermind. You're staying at home today." The judgmental expression rapidly changed to that of a glower when she sensed a whine coming from me, and she hurriedly added (with a threatening tone, no less), "And my word's final, I'm retracting them."

 

I let my body slump visibly into my bed, my lower lip protruding into my peripheral vision and I fixated my widening eyes at her.

 

"Will you stay with me, then?"

 

The glower on her face softened. "Do I have a choice?" Her tone was harsh, seemingly sarcastic even, but her action that followed betrayed the worry and affection (albeit platonic, sighs) that overwhelmed her tall frame.

 

She ruffled my hair gently, the feeling of her fingers burying themselves within my tresses so comfortable and soothing. I would have fallen asleep right then and there, for it has been so long since I'm the target of her affectionate gestures.

 

So don't mind me sighing in contentment (inwardly) as she said, "Of course I will, sweetheart."

 

"I'm sorry that you had to come along, Zitao ah."

 

I paused in my one-sided action of swinging our interlaced hands to look at her with disdain. "Well, Jen, I'm not at all apologetic that I wanted to tag along despite still being feverish."

 

Her hand reached up to my forehead, her face wincing slightly when the supposedly still-searing temperature of my forehead burned the back of her hand. She didn't snatch her hand back though, and I'm glad for the thoughtfulness.

 

It's already hard, excruciating really, to be outside walking about when your head feels as though a million drummers are in there pounding their drums and your body feels like it's on fire. I don't think I'd be able to handle human rejection, especially if you're on the receiving end from someone you really love care about.

 

Mirth swum into her expression, filling her eyes as she gazed at me. "I don't know if I should be glad, or worried that you're actually feeling that way."

 

Scoffing, I resumed the swinging of our hands as I turned my head back to the front. "You should be glad, Jen."

 

"And I am."

 

Her words, although warm in nature, seem to be a bucket of cold water, being splashed at me and the heat within me cooled. Her tone, although light, affected me wholly. Her words once again, although seemingly blurted out as a thought, brought an unconscious smile to my face.

 

And the smile never slipped off even until we've reached our destination (and Jen told me to wipe that creepyass smirk off my face; "You're scaring both me, and the kids here!)

 

"Can I fathom a wild thought, my princess?"

 

Her head snapped to mine, eyes tearing themselves away from the packet of pasta she had been scrutinising. "And what thought would you be fathoming, my prince?"

 

"Prince?" I stared at her in mock-shock, hands over one another as they flitted up to my chest. "Not king?"

 

"That would mean that you're my father, Zitao. My. Father."

 

I pursed my lips, displeased with her mocking tone as she returned to her scrutinisation of the pasta, clearly pushing herself out of this conversation. "But I am older than you."

 

"By a year, sweetheart," She then paused, as if a random thought had surfaced in her mind. "Oh wait, ten months actually."

 

I folded my arms across my chest sulkily, eyes seemingly staring at the uncountable number of packets in front of me when in fact, I was sneaking glances at her.

 

And she must have known, or felt those glances, for the corners of tugged upwards slightly as she dropped several packets of that same pasta brand into the already half-filled trolley and pushed it past me.

 

"Jennnnnnnnn!" I whined after her, after realising that she was about to vanish beyond the aisle without waiting to see if I was following her.

 

She stepped out of the aisle. I whined louder, never mind that other shoppers were staring quizzically at me.

 

She turned the trolley towards the next aisle, her hand performing a little wave at me as she flashed a mocking (but nonetheless dazzling) smile.

 

I threw my pride onto the tiled flooring of the supermarket and ran over it as I made haste to chase after the girl. Just as I've always been doing, I've come to realise.

 

Twenty-three years and counting.

 

And, the wild thought that had I've been fathoming all but forgotten the instance my fingers found their places between hers.

 

"What were you thinking about just now, Zitao ah?"

 

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the rows of frozen dimsum to let them flit to hers, her curious expression filling my sight momentarily. My brows furrowed, "Um, I can't remember?"

 

She stared at me for a heartbeat, before bursting out into a soft bout of laughter, her torso bending over the handlebar of the trolley.

 

"Hoi," I prodded her arm. "What's so funny? What did I even say to make you burst out laughing like that?"

 

Seeing how she was still bent over, mouth in a perpetual large 'O', I narrowed my eyes and nudged her body instead to get her attention.

 

I hadn't expected her to crumple onto the ghastly supermarket floor.

 

"Jen!" My arms wrapped around her immediately, eyes flying to her knees and relief washed over me when I saw that none of her body (except her feet, of course) had made contact with the tiles. "Are you oka–"

 

I stopped. Literally stopped (breathing).

 

Her face was there, just there. One of two inches away from mine, no wait, scratch that; there was no distance between our faces. The tips of our noses bumped into each other, our breaths mingling, and in this close (and unfortunately, rare) proximity, I could feel myself losing consciousness in her orbs that stared at mine.

 

I grew conscious of myself, the fact that my arms were still tightly wound around her waist, and that our faces we