I'm sitting cross legged on the sofa, my interior design assignment scattered all around me. It's a case study involving a client, Emily, hiring an interior designer. I have to read through the initial client consultation and take notes on the space requirements, material selection and budget management. But my brain isn't working. I'm staring at the white paper, rereading the same sentence over and over again. I'm frustrated because I haven't left the house in days, except on the odd occasion that I go to uni together with Nina, and even that only when it's in the morning. I'm not used to sitting inside, so my mind is going crazy.
Irritated, I throw the case study onto the pile of unread papers and stand up, grasping my head. This is not how I pictured my life. I want to go out, dance, walk, live. I want to be with friends, I want to be laughing. But I'm too afraid to do any of it. I spend my days doing assignments, reading books, speaking to my parents and Lara on the phone, or watching movies or self-defence videos with Nina. I need more.
Phil walks out of the shower, he came home an hour ago, so it's just me and him in the apartment. He's shirtless with a towel thrown over his shoulders. He sees me standing in the living room, staring out the window and pauses, watching me questioningly,
"You good?" he asks,
"Yeah, have to get this assignment done" I nod towards the scattered papers,
"Seems like a lot" he walks over to the pile of papers and picks one up, he's looking at Emily's house plan with a frown, "so what do you have to do?" he asks after a while of staring. I smile, appreciating the obvious fact that he's trying to be conversational, he must see that I'm bored out of my mind being alone at home most of the day,
"She wants to add another room and a bathroom, she has a certain budget and style in mind. I have to plan it out"
"That actually sounds interesting" he places the plan back into the pile, "you sure you're good?" he asks,
"I am, why? Do I look 'not good'?"
"You look frustrated"
"Can't lie, all this hiding from the stalker thing is killing me"
"I know... but we'll get him eventually"
"Sort of losing hope on that, the police aren't getting very far"
Phil sits down and we chat for a while. He even asks if I want to watch a movie. I decline, suspecting he's only doing it to be nice. Eventually, he leaves and I'm all alone again.
Forcing my mind back on the assignment, I re-read Emily's client descriptor for the hundredth time. Nothing is sinking in. I close my eyes, exasperated that I can't seem to think straight.
A noise startles me, and I open my eyes. At some point I must have fallen asleep on the sofa, with the assignment still in my lap. Water is running in the shower, someone is home. They would have seen me sleeping. I hope it was Nina and not one of the guys, maybe I am vain but I'd rather them not see me in such an unflattering position. I lower my eyes to the assignment sitting on my lap. Back to Emily. I start on reading the client description again.
Whoever is in the bathroom has finished their shower, by this point I know it's not Nina because she likes her showers extra-long. Soon Daniel walks out wearing a black singlet and trackies. I don't allow my eyes to stay on his is enormous biceps for longer than a second,
"Woke up?" he asks with a subtle grin,
"How long have you been home?" I ask,
"Just came, saw you sleeping, didn't want to wake you up. But guess I did anyway with the shower"
"Can't believe I fell asleep, normally I don't nap in daytime"
"Must be interesting?" he pints at my assignment,
"Very" I joke, picking the papers back up,
"What's this?" he asks, opening a cooking pot on the oven,
"Fried rice and veggies"
"Smells nice, you made it?" I nod, "can I eat some?"
"Yeah, I already ate, made too much. Have it all if you want" I say, he reaches for a plate and starts filling the food. I tear my eyes off Daniel, and back to Emily's case.
Okay. Focus. Emily's client description. Capital black letters. I read the heading five times, then I glance up at Daniel. He's eating standing up. Practically swallowing the food. Geez, he's hungry. I look away, back to the assignment. Right. I pick up a pen, start underlining the key words. Concept, texture, aesthetics...I read over the requirements once more. And then once more again, because I retained nothing that first time. I flip through a few pages to find the rubric, scan through it, then turn back to the task.
Finally, I give up and glance to see Daniel sitting down at the dining table, leaning back with his long legs extended forward, crossed at the ankle. He's finished with the food and holds his phone in one hand, while resting the other on the table, his fingers lightly tapping on the surface. He looks older than his age, more mature. His presence somehow exudes an aura of quiet authority. As he glances away from his phone towards me, I promptly avert my gaze to focus on my assignment, hoping I wasn't caught looking. But now I feel his eyes on me.
I read the words written on the page 'Emily has a preference for clean lines, organic shapes, and a focus on functionality. She pulls towards iconic furniture designs...' I glance back up to find Daniel's gaze, intense and focused, directly on me. A faint smile plays at the corner of his lips,
"What?" I ask when he doesn't look away,
"What?" he asks, too,
"You're the one looking at me"
"You can keep working on your homework" he shrugs,
"While you're staring at me?"
"Does it bother you?"
"No"
"Then keep going" he says,
"Then stop staring at me" I retort,
"I'm just returning the favour" he smirks. There you have it, I was caught looking, but I won't give him the satisfaction,
"I only looked up to check if you were gone"
"Oh, really? You had no idea I was still here?"
"None at all" I lie,
"Then you should have no trouble ignoring me now and continuing with your work"
"I can't when someone's looking at me"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Do you want me to stare at you, and see how you go?"
"Go ahead" he says, and relaxes even more onto the chair, folding his arms assertively over his chest, making the biceps bulge out, as if they weren't big enough before.
But sure, two can play at the game, and I'm not backing down. I cross my arms over my chest too, assuming a similar posture to Daniel, lean back onto the sofa and stare. A faint smile plays on one corner of his lips, and it sort of makes me rethink my decision to challenge him, but I don't move my eyes.
We're looking at each other across the room, like two kids that won't back down. Since I'm careful not to look at his arms and chest, I only stare at his eyes. Dark, confident, intelligent, yet there is something else in them. Something alive, like a burning fire, I can almost feel the heat from his stare. I get this urge to avert my gaze, look away, anywhere but him. Still, I compel myself to maintain my gaze, the lone sign of my marginal unease manifested in the subtle repositioning of my body on the sofa. He notices the discomfort, and his slight smile intensifies.
His phone rings and I am flooded with relief, I don't think I'd be able to keep eye contact much longer. My relief is short lived, because he doesn't move to pick it up. He tilts his head to one side, like he knows exactly where my mind is going,
"Pick up your phone" I say, still staring,
"Nah, I am good like this" he responds,
"What do you..." I pause, lost for words, "you seriously plan on staring at me all night?"
"Why not? You have pretty eyes" I want to say something, my mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Does he really think they're pretty? Was he observing my eyes as closely as I was observing his? The thought elicits a subtle warmth on my cheeks. His phone stops ringing, then starts up again,
"Pick up, it's probably important" he reaches over for his phone, without looking away from me. He picks it up and starts talking to someone, still keeping eye contact.
I'm not the one to give up, but I'm worried he's actually prepared to sit here all night, staring at me. So, I decide to pretend his conversation is what caused the challenge to stop, not me. I roll my eyes at him, as visibly as I can and look down at my assignment. He chuckles even though he's still on the phone. I resist the urge to glare at him, because where would that get me? Instead, I pretend I'm immersed in my papers. Pretend being the key word, because with him still watching me, I can't even read a whole sentence.
Eventually he hangs up,
"What happened?" he asks, leaning forward, "given up already?"
I glance up at him now, only briefly before looking back at my work,
"Yes, because I'm not two years old"
"Oh? That's the only reason?" he asks,
"Yes, obviously" I say, he laughs, standing up. He walks over closer to me, standing over me. I pretend I don't even notice his towering height right in front of me, but my hand slightly trembles as I flip a page,
"What are you doing tonight?" he asks,
"As usual. My assignment and stuff" I do my best not to sound gloomy about it, I mean it's not his fault I have to stay locked up in the house every night,
"Why don't you come with me?" he asks, I crane my neck to look up at him now,
"Where?"
"Gym"
"Me? To the gym?"
"Why not? Build some muscle in those arms" he jokes, I give a faint smile, worried he's only asking because he feels bad for me staying alone,
"Are you sure I wouldn't be in your way?"
"Why would you be?"
"Well, like, you're doing your stuff, and..."
"And you do yours"
"But I have to be home by, like, ten, I have school tomorrow"
"That's a deal, let's go" he says,
"Really?"
"C'mon" he says, I stand up, a little unsure if I'm doing the right thing. I haven't been out this late for days, and I'm a little worried about my stalker,
"What if... what if he's out there?"
"The guy that attacked you?" I nod, "I hope he is, so we finally get him"
"But if he comes at us..."
"That's why you're with me" I want to say a hundred more things, like what if he has a weapon, what if he's angry at me from last time and is more vicious, what if he follows us to the gym and waits for an opportunity to come at me there? It's all 'what ifs' and I decide to keep them to myself,
"Okay" I say, "I will go and change?"
"Okay" a smirk forms on his lips, I turn to go to my room, then I turn back around to face him, he's watching me,
"Um, what do I wear?"
"Haven't you been to a gym before?"
"No. Not really. My gym is my dance studio"
"Wear your dance tutu, and you'll be good" he teases
"We don't wear tutu's" I rolls my eyes, "but sure, maybe I will find one just for the gym"