c h a p t e r  f i v e .

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Answers. They have an interesting way of manifesting themselves even when the corresponding questions were not asked.

                And yet, they cannot exist without those questions.

                Answers are like falling leaves, Wendy thought. They come into existence unnoticed and they grow, stay around for a season or two, then wither and fall away as they are forgotten. Until, of course, their questions are brought back to the surface and the cycle repeats itself. Some people notice them, but others don’t due to oversight, negligence or apathy. Some people, even, care more about the questions than the answers themselves.

                People are so incredibly strange, Wendy thought. Strange, but interesting.

                Is this a bit weird? Thinking about him like this? Would you want him to know about this? No? Then yes. Am I obsessed? Maybe. That is yet to be seen.

                ...Destined to be what?

                If she had been thinking about Chen an inordinate amount the previous few days, her condition was far worse now.

                Unless you assumed something more.

                After replaying that line a few times in her head, Wendy frowned. “What a... !” she cried, sitting upright on her bed with a pillow hugged to her body. The moment she had said it, however, she clamped a hand over , mortified.

Amber popped her head into Wendy’s room; the latter had totally forgotten that she had left her door wide open.

                “Whoa, what about ?”

                Wendy could feel her face burning up; she never used vulgar language, so Amber was still standing in her doorway with wide eyes.

                “Nothing, nothing.” said Wendy. “Could you please close my door?”

                “Um...sure.” With a puzzled expression, Amber slowly closed the door on her roommate and any chance that she had to break the ice with her roommate that night.

                Sure.

                With flaming cheeks, Wendy lay back down. Blood pumped through her veins.

                Sure. He had said. One word. It had been sarcastic, condescending, disappointed, and indifferent all at once sort of sure. His eyes betrayed him, though. While his face and voice said other things, his eyes were focused, interested, confused, and curious.

                Or maybe I’m just delusional.

                Wendy wanted to continue to be angry at Chen for accusing her of being too friendly (?), but she knew that she wasn't being fair. Besides, all she really wanted to think about after that was how close he had been to her...at that moment.

                She had been sandwiched between the cold, hard brick wall of the café behind her shoulders and his strong forearm pressed up against her wrists, keeping them firmly in their position but not forcing it any further. His other forearm rested on the wall above her like those forward guys in dramas.

If Wendy’s life had been a drama, he would have surely kissed her at that moment. Her life was not a drama, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he had wanted to kiss her or had ever even thought about it. Why would he want to kiss her, though?

                What would have happened if Mr. Cho hadn’t appeared out of nowhere? Would he have done anything else?

                Sure.

                She absolutely hated to admit it, but Wendy knew that Chen was right. She had assumed more.

                He was just another person in the world and she, a fool.

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The next morning was one of the worst Monday mornings that Wendy had ever experienced in her life. Not only was she feeling dry and bitter as a result of yesterday’s ‘events,’ she also had gotten very little sleep that night because Amber had invited friends over (without even asking; Wendy didn’t expect anything of her roommate, but it would’ve been nice to know beforehand