I was distracted the entire game.
Every time someone clapped, I'd clap as well, not knowing whose side was clapping. I kept telling myself that how Clint acted did not bother me, but it did. Perhaps I place too much importance on him, despite the fact that we rarely see or speak to each other.
Thankfully, Genevieve did not notice my sour mood. Her mother's radar can be frightening at times, as she always knew when I wasn't feeling well.
I don't really want her to interrogate me right now. Gladly, the game is distracting her. She was enjoying the game beside me at the moment, screaming cheers for both teams whenever they scored. It didn't even occur to me that she's the only one who stands and claps for the other team on our side of the bench.
I only came back to my senses when the game ended. Genevieve is cheering in celebration despite their department's loss.
"You're such a traitor, Gene. How could you cheer for the enemy team?" One of her friends in her department jokingly said.
"Yeah, yeah! From this day on, this traitor shall be banned from the engineering's lands," another one said. "Shame, shame!"
More voices joined the chant, until it sounded like an occult chastisement of a member. They were trolling Genevieve, knowing that she's a big fan of Clint Devon. But they've underestimated my guardian. The face of this woman is thicker than all their faces combined. Before you could make her feel embarrassed, you'd first have to die of second-hand embarrassment.
"Hey! I would have cheered as loud if we won!" she defended.
"Yeah, right. I could still remember your downcast look when their team lost to us last year."
"Well, I just felt bad for their team for losing. But in my heart, I was celebrating our win." The shameless look on her face is enough to make anyone choke.
"Then why don't you look sad right now? Our team lost."
"In my heart, I am." She made a solemn look and touched her heart with a dramatic gesture.
"..."
I believe Genevieve has a talent for rendering people speechless. She's also very good at it. Lucky for her, her departmentmates are long used to her quirkiness, or they would have long toppled her.
"Gene, I'm going home first. I feel sleepy." I told her after she was freed from her classmates' grasp.
"Okay, I'll see you later." She knew crowds make me lose my energy, so she agreed without any fuss. Besides that, she's also quite distracted looking at the other team, and trying to find the right timing to go greet his beloved idol.
I slipped through the crowd and let her be. But before I could go out of the gymnasium, I was suddenly grabbed in a conspicuous corner.
"Hey! What the~"
"Ssssh!" A finger was placed over my lips before I could continue what I was about to say.
I was taken aback as I looked up at whoever had the audacity to drag me away."Clint?"
"It's Mr. Handsome Guy. And keep your voice down, or they might hear us."
My eyebrows shot up. I removed his hand from my lips and crossed my elbows over my chest.
"For what reason do I get this pleasure of being dragged into an empty corner by you, Mr. Devon?"
It looked like he came right after their game. He's still wearing his sweaty jersey. He didn't even bother wiping the sweat from his forehead. It took all my willpower not to grab the white towel hanging from his shoulder and wipe his sweat away.
"Are you upset?"
I looked away from him. "Why would I be?"
"Your guardian doesn't seem to know that you know me." He sounded sulky. I was about to say something, but he continued. "If I said we knew each other, I was afraid she would react exaggeratedly. There were many people present. It wouldn't be really good if a lot of people knew we were close. People tend to bother those who are close to me," A glint of sadness passed through his eyes when he said that.
He probably lost a lot of friends that way.
Most fans are just crazy. They don't see their favorite artists as humans. They try to control their lives and choose who they should get close with. If their demands are not met, they resort to threatening the opposing party with abandoning the people they idolize. I have heard of a lot of people who got threatened by crazy fans just because they were friends with an artist they idolized.
It's disgusting, really.
"Is that your reason for pulling me here?"
"That, and I'm collecting your debt," he said, grinning. It's a bit dark in the part of the gymnasium where we are. But even in a dimly lit room, this annoying guy still shines.
"What debt are you talking about? I don't even know you." as if I'd forgive him that easily. Regardless of his reason, the terrible feeling I felt when he ignored me wouldn't go away.
"I thought you weren't angry."
"I'm not!"
"Then give me my painting."
I heaved a deep sigh. Now I'm starting to really get angry.
"Beside, I'm still banned from the 300th floor."
"Then stay in your house!"
"But that place feels so empty and cold," he muttered in such a low voice that I almost didn't catch it.
This guy is really good at making me feel guilty.
"Then, let's go to my house." I sighed. "I'll cook for you." I feel like he's doing it on purpose, though I hope he isn't.
His eyes light up. "Really? Then let's go!" He excitedly grabbed my hand.
"Wait." I stopped him. He had a questioning look in his eyes.
I grabbed the white towel he had been carrying on his shoulder and began wiping the sweat from his forehead. I just couldn't take it anymore. His sweaty brow had been bothering me for a while.
He stiffened for a moment, taken aback by what I was doing. But after a few seconds, he voluntarily lowered his head a little so I could reach his forehead with ease.
"Done! Now let's go."
….…
I cooked a different dish for him this time. I just want to see if he'll still eat it. It was meat rolls. He still ate them.
He didn't say that it was delicious this time. But he ate more than half of it. Meanwhile, I was just watching. I don't know why, but there's just a certain fulfillment when you see someone eating what you cook with gusto.
That's why I somehow understand why Rebecca was upset. There is so much effort put into cooking food, especially when you're cooking for someone you care for. So it's really upsetting when they don't show appreciation for it.
Clint volunteered to wash the dishes afterwards. Obviously, I declined. The guy just can't be trusted in the kitchen. However, he insisted, promising me he wouldn't break anything.
I was skeptical. But he was insistent, so I ended up agreeing. I watched from the sidelines, making sure he didn't break anything.
Surprisingly, he really does know how to wash the dishes this time. He even knows which order to wash in first!
"Wow, when did you learn how to wash the dishes?" I was impressed.
"I learned online."
"There's a tutorial for washing dishes online?"
Clint shrugged.
"You should learn cooking next."
He stopped wiping the plates midway. He looked up, seemingly in deep thought.
"If I learn how to cook, will you stop cooking for me?"
"Since when did I become your cook?" I asked dryly.
"Ever since you agreed to cook for me," he said.
"..."
This cabbage-killing human's confidence is sometimes exaggerated.
"If I cook for you again, I'll have to start asking for a payment."
"What kind of payment do you want?" He had a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at me. "Money or my body?" he asked. "As a special offer, you can have both."
"Go die!" I spat and stormed out of the kitchen to hide the blush creeping on my face.
Screw that handsome guy! Why was he suddenly like that? He wasn't like that before! Did he also learn that from the internet?
…
"Get that and go," I told Clint the moment he came out of the kitchen, pointing at a 12 by 16 canvas wrapped in paper on top of the table.
"Can't I see it first?"
"No!" I said it firmly. "Now go and leave my house. I want to sleep."
I was about to push him out of our house when I saw a familiar vehicle driving through our driveway. My mind went into an instant panic. I looked at Clint, who had an anxious look on his face, then looked around the house to find a place where I could possibly hide a six-foot-tall man before his loyal fan arrived at the door.
With no other choice, I opened my bedroom door and pushed Clint inside.
"Don't touch anything," I commanded him, before closing my bedroom door behind me.
As if on cue, Genevieve emerged from the front door.