The meet-up at Victor's house last night came and went, and soon it was Saturday. There wasn't much to be done during the meeting, other than decide on what we were going to do now that the fanfiction was off. Victor's obsessive complaints eventually drowned out the few ideas Melissa and I managed to come up with though, and as a result, the meeting came to a close with nary a thing done. Very productive, I must say.
So, what was I doing, on this dreary, rain-swept Saturday morning?
What else could I do? I sat in my room, struggling with the monstrously convoluted hypocrisy upon my computer screen. Just what you'd normally do on a rainy Saturday morning.
This "hypocrisy" I'm referring to is the reply to the request I mentioned some time ago. It was the for the fanfiction of Judgement of Fantasia. After some deliberation, I decided it was probably fine to accept it. Sure, call me an idiot for not letting my team write it, but I believed it was only fair, given my position as an experienced author. It was simply a leveling of the playing field, nothing more, nothing less.
One of the reasons I hesitated in responding was that, at first, I believed this Garden_of_Roses to be Claire, or maybe even Melissa. Despite the spontaneity of the request, it only made sense, as none of us accepted the responsibility of contacting Anon during either of our meetings.
Everyone's reactions to the news yesterday, however, meant that I could probably conclude that the request was from someone entirely unrelated to our group.
My decision was fairly straightforward. It was either accept a fanfiction that could boost my standing as an author, or decline it for my conscience's sake.
"And... sent."
Needless to say, my conscience didn't have much input on the matter.
There was a chance I might regret this like I did when faced with a brutal beatdown by a gang of thugs, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. After all, I liked the idea. The notion of having fans so enraptured with my novel that they would write something about it appealed to my ego.
With my response now sent, I had other matters to tend to. In particular, was my phone.
During the meeting last night, I had the good fortune to obtain Melissa's phone number. Although it was under the guise of maintaining contact for the competition, it was no less precious to me than my love for writing.
Though now that her number was in my contacts, what next? Should I wait until she calls me, or should I impose on her weekend? As the vice-president of the student council, there was no doubt her weekly schedule was busy, so interrupting her day off might be rude.
"..."
In the end, I couldn't decide. Taking that step was a little bit much for someone who only recently came out of their "shell". If you could even call it that.
Thankfully, someone else did, as the phone began to vibrate. Startled, I nearly dropped it on the floor.
The caller ID on the screen read: "Melissa."
My hands began to flow away like the sand in an hourglass, from the sheer gravity of this momentous occasion. I couldn't believe it, Melissa was calling me! If I told myself this a mere month ago, I'm sure the old me would've bawled from laughter. Even now, I was only half convinced that this was real.
Hesitantly, I lifted the phone to my ear and accepted the incoming call.
"..."
"Hello? Are you there?"
Even over the phone, her smooth voice carried as beautifully as it did in person.
"Y-yeah, I'm here...Travis, I mean."
"Oh... good. I was worried I might be bothering you by calling you like this."
"N-no, don't worry about it, I'm not doing anything important at the moment."
"I'm relieved."
There was a pause before she continued once more.
"Yesterday, I felt we didn't get much done for our project, so I was wondering if you had the time to talk about it now..."
"Of course I can! Where did you want to start?"
"Well, it wouldn't be too convenient to talk about it over the phone... why don't we meet somewhere instead?"
Could it be, the event every adolescent boy fantasized about? The one moment that we of the male gender long for?
Could this be a date?
"S-s-sure! We can meet somewhere...ahh...hmmm...where though, it's raining?"
I didn't have the faintest idea of where would be best, and as I looked out my bedroom window, my quandary became that much more complicated. Despite my years of writing, I've never even thought about what a date scene was like. Sure, I managed to write a romance plot for Luke here and there, especially for his marriage near the end, but in a fantasy novel, the "date" concept didn't exist. The heavy medieval undertones of the genre always involved courtship, but it was almost always a one-sided advance by the male characters.
There was no way I could handle that!
"Oh, don't worry, I already have something planned, so the rain won't bother us. Just meet me in the business district in an hour. There's a tea shop there, you can't miss it since it's rather colorful."
"Fine, I'll be there."
"Okay, talk to you later!"
The conversation ended there. I flopped onto my bed. Today was finally the day. I never dreamed Melissa would be the one to ask me out!
The hour passed in a whirlwind of preparations. Given my social life -or rather, the lack thereof, I didn't have much in the way of fashion, other than the few odds and ends my mother picked out for me at the end of junior high.
Soon, I was in the middle of the business district. The rain lightened by the time I got there, but it was still enough to wet my hair. Thankfully, the majority of the trip was by bus, which alleviated the problem to some degree.
The trip to the business district took the same bus line I was already familiar with, so some of the sights weren't too unfamiliar. Boutiques, malls, and business buildings rose high and low into a dreary sky. It was far more populous than where I went to the publisher. I wondered how I was going to even find this cafe.
Despite my reservations, it didn't take long to find.
It was a dazzlingly bright pink, fringed with white frills. On the front of the building was plastered a sign with an intricately made watercolor calligraphy of the establishment's name.
"Randi's Little Apothecary."
I had my reservations about finding this building, but I also had some more at the sight of it.
"This is... cute? I guess?"
This was for Melissa though, so I couldn't follow the sudden urge to flee from the building. With my jaw set, teeth clenched, and assumptions put to the side, I entered the cafe.
A thick, herbal scent permeated the air. Customers mildly sipped cups of tea, while waitresses dressed in fresh, frilly uniforms of the building's hues billowed about them as they carried orders to their charges. Despite the activity of both customers and staff alike, the sun of a quiet, calm spring in the meadows prevailed. It was a quiet slice of heaven, compared to the drizzling, miserable rain outside.
A quick glance around the shop revealed that the majority of customers were of the female variety, which put me in a very one-sided minority.
My awkward gaze flitted about as I fidgeted in place, looking for any sign of Melissa. As the only male in the shop, my discomfort was starting to crawl up my throat.
"Welcome to Randi's Little Apothecary!" A familiar voice said, off to my side.
My feet rose an inch or so in the air, surprised by the suddenness of the greeting. I turned to meet the voice's owner.
"Melissa!?"
"Oh, Travis, you made it! Sorry, I'm still on shift, since you showed up a little early."
"You work here?"
"Yes, surprised?"
She beckoned me with a finger as she walked toward a corner of the cafe.
"Just wait here with Claire, I'll be done soon."
I took my seat across from Claire as I watched Melissa trot away to her duties. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all, the uniform she wore certainly was nice...
"Like what you see, hmm?"
Claire, who was already sipping a cup of what appeared to be a cinnamon herbal tea, shot a mischievous look at me. I must've been staring too much.
"Haha... you got me."
She continued to stare at me smugly but said nothing while we waited for Melissa's shift to end.
I was a little disappointed by this unexpected turn. My hopes of a date with Melissa were dashed against Claire, the immovable third wheel. What's more, I wasn't expecting Melissa to be one of the staff here. Not that I was complaining, she looked absolutely gorgeous in her uniform, but I was expecting it to be more of a one-on-one meeting.
About fifteen minutes passed, and she returned once more, this time in casual wear. It was a bit of a let-down though, I was hoping to see it again.
"Sorry for the wait. I know the owner of this place, and they asked for help, so I couldn't refuse."
So she wasn't employed here. Though now that I've seen what the place is like -in particular, how she looked in their uniforms, I was a bit disappointed. It wouldn't have been a bad place to come to every now and again.
She took the vacant spot next to Claire.
"Yesterday was a bit... hectic, so I called you both out here to talk about what we can do for our entry in the competition since we didn't get much done..."
For the next hour and a half, we talked about what sort of novel we were going to write. For the most part, it was Melissa and I who did the talking, while Claire focused on her tea. To be honest, I wasn't even sure what she was doing there, besides taking up the space I could be sitting in. My annoyance was immeasurable.
"A mystery? That sounds interesting, but I've never read any though, so I might not be much help." Melissa bemoaned.
"It's alright. I've got a few titles for reference materials."
I glanced at Claire, who finally broke her silence since my arrival.
"Oh, I didn't know you liked mysteries, Claire!" Melissa brightened.
"Sometimes, it's just a hobby."
"Then it's settled, we'll write a mystery. We'll let Victor know at the next meeting!"
I watched Melissa's animated fist thrusts in the air. From the way she appeared in the uniform, to the way she acted now... I could never envision this cheerful side of Melissa as darkened by melancholy.
And so, we finished our tea shop meeting. Melissa and Claire went home together, since they were apparently neighbors, while I went my own way, back on the bus route.
Victor's words still echoed in my head.
"..she wasn't a very cheery girl."
"Even when I chose her as my running mate..."
From my seat on the bus ride home, I watched the urban scene outside the window fade to the suburban, residential one I've known all my life. As it did, in the deepest recess of my mind, there was a voice of discontent; it was dissatisfied with my resolve.
"...is Melissa alright?"