Chapter 42.
<b>Chapter 42. A Date? (6/13)</b>
<span style="font-weight:400">She wrapped her arms around mine and dragged me along in tow.
<span style="font-weight:400">With our faces so close they would almost touch I couldn’t help but notice her cheeks were a bit redder than before.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Are you blushing right now?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not blushing. It’s just from the cold, stupid.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Didn’t you say you’d already warmed up?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Her cheeks grew even redder. She didn’t respond but rather invoked her right to remain silent as if she’d been caught by the cops doing something bad.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You know, I’m not a police officer and you’re not being detained right now.”
<span style="font-weight:400">The more I teased her, the more embarrassed she looked. She really was too cute and innocent.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I lied, okay? I was cold. Very cold. When you wrapped your scarf around me, it made me really happy. It was warm. No, more specifically, it made me feel warm on the inside more than anything. You happy now?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Wow. No wonder it looked like you felt like you’d done something bad. So you lied. Being such a good honest girl must be hard.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“It is. Okay? Good honest girls like me have it hard having to deal with sneaky guys like you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sneaky? I don’t remember ever being sneaky though. Care to borate?”
<span style="font-weight:400">She invoked her rights once again.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Heheh. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say, or do, can, and will be used against you in a court ofw. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the state. Do you understand these rights as they have been stated to you today?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What crime have Imitted today, officer?” She yed along.
<span style="font-weight:400">“The crime of being too cute of an enemy. How do you plead to your unforgivable crimes, you criminal?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Not guilty. Being cute is not a crime.” She smiled a smile only intended for my eyes to see under the scarf.
<span style="font-weight:400">“But being criminally cute is.”
<span style="font-weight:400">She peeked at me from the corner of her eyes, trying her best to determine whether I was simply teasing her or being serious. It was a shame for her, but my expression remainedpletely neutral making it impossible for her to glean anything out of it.
<span style="font-weight:400">“For a cheeky first year, you’re really impossible to see through. Shouldn’t you have some more respect for a respectable upperssman like me?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I treat all people equally, regardless of age.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“So you’re in your rebellious phase where you disrespect everyone just the same?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“How rude, it’s not disrespect, it’s simply my support for the equality of life for all.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaah.” She let out a small sigh beneath the scarf connecting the two of us together. I couldn’t help but grow more conscious of how sweet her breath smelled. It spurred me to remember the time I forcefully kissed her.
<span style="font-weight:400">I discreetly peeked at her small lips from the corner of my eye. With how low her guard was around me, if I had nefarious intentions, stealing another wouldn’t be a very difficult task to achieve. I opted to not do something like that again though. I’d only done it to try and get her to hate me, but it didn’t phase her at all the first time. If that was the case it would probably do even less the second time around. If I did do it right now it’d also be harder to go into her ce to meet her little brother.
<span style="font-weight:400">He was the current objective. I couldn’t jump the gun and lose this valuable opportunity.
<span style="font-weight:400">Having opted to not do anything further, we continued on our way to her ce. We eventually arrived in front of what appeared to be a small rentalplex. There were a few identical buildings lined up next to each other, each one was two stories tall. I estimated there to be about four bedrooms per building with its two-story height. The buildings were all a bit old and outdated, rather run down. They had certainly seen better days. In particr, the one we’d stopped in front of was probably in the worst condition. It was likely the cheapest of the lot and probably went the longest without any renovations.
<span style="font-weight:400">But such a thing didn’t bother me at all. A home was a home no matter the appearance or how low it was priced. Personally, as long as I had shelter, it didn’t matter to me what it looked like on the outside or inside. I valued utility above all else.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sorry, the ce is a bit old and run down.” She apologized timidly like it was her fault or something she should feel shameful about.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Not at all. I quite like ces like this.” They were cheaper and cost less after all. The only thing that mattered to me in my mind was how low the price was. As for expensive ces? Hah! You’d be a fool to waste your money on something pointless like that. I was a miser who liked to save money where he could. I’d cut corners on food if it meant saving a dime or a buck.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re not going to make fun of me orugh at me for living in such a run-down ce?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Why would I? Is there something wrong with living here?” I truly couldn’t understand why she thought I’dugh. My ce was a barren deste unit without a soul to be found. Her ce at least had character. Mine was just empty. The condition of a person’s residence was often indicative of their character.
<span style="font-weight:400">Modest, down-to-earth, homely, quite cozy. A warm loving home. Those were the characteristics I sincerely thought of when I scrutinized her home’s exterior with a cursory nce.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ah. Uh… nothing, never mind. Let’s… go inside.” She had a somewhat relieved expression on her face as she fiddled with her keys trying to put it in the keyhole.
<span style="font-weight:400">Had she been reluctant to have friends over because she was overly self-conscious of it?
<span style="font-weight:400">It was dark and hard to see without a light above the entrance. It didn’t help that her hands were unsteady either. She was having a hard time getting the key into the lock under these conditions. Was she still nervous? Was it because it was a guy she was bringing to her home for the first time?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haha. It’s a bit cold and hard to see.” The tinge of anxiety in her voice didn’t escape my watchful eye.
<span style="font-weight:400">I extended my hand out, held onto hers to steady it, and slipped the key into the lock.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ah. Th-Thank you.” She stuttered out her thanks in an overly shy manner.
<span style="font-weight:400">“No problem.” Even though I considered her an enemy, I still felt a bit bad forcefully intruding into her home like this on such short notice. But since I’d alreadye this far, there was no reason to go back empty-handed. Since things had reached this point, I’d see things through to the end.
<span style="font-weight:400">On a Sunday evening, at approximately 7:30 PM, when night had already fallen in a cold winter wondend with snow aplenty, a single boy entered a girl’s humble abode. It truly appeared as though she’d willingly invited the big bad wolf who’d threaten to blow her house down to eat her up.
<span style="font-weight:400">Would she really be eaten by this lone wolf on this dark cold winter night? Of course not, this wolf was a vegetarian. But he was also known to be quite a notorious liar as well. Was he really a vegetarian or just lying through his teeth with a straight face while looking his prey directly in the eyes.
<span style="font-weight:400">I mused about such nonsense while she led me into the living room on the first floor where I took a seat. When we entered I noticed there was a small table off to one side with a picture frame propped up beside what appeared to be an urn. It was a portrait of a middle-aged man with blond hair and steel blue eyes. I could discern several features on his face that bore an uncanny resemnce to Alicia.
<span style="font-weight:400">Her… father?
<span style="font-weight:400">Noticing my gaze locked to the portrait beside the urn on that small table, she knelt down on her knees respectfully in front of it and said, “I should at least introduce you to my parents. You’re the first person I’ve brought over after all. Though my mother is out at work at the moment and won’t be home for a little while, I can at the very least properly introduce you to my father.”
<span style="font-weight:400">She ced her hands together in front of the portrait paying respect to her father.
<span style="font-weight:400">I wasn’t ustomed to such things and didn’t know exactly what I should do. I simply followed her example and showed my respect by kneeling down to my knees in front of the portrait beside her.