Chapter 8
“Uh, is my timing…wrong?”
I look to my side and saw Jonathan staring weirdly at me. Who wouldn’t? Even I would look at myself like that, but then again; I can’t.
I sighed and gave him a shy (more like idiotic) smile, “Good morning Jonathan!” I greeted, trying to sound as if everything’s normal, and there’s certainly nothing wrong. “How was your sleep?”
“Fine, until I find you literally hanging on a tree and thinking I might still be sleeping. Could you please clarify my doubts about my sanity?” he said walking closer to me.
I shrugged, “I could if you could help me get down from this devil of a tree.”
He was clearly hiding a laugh as he climbed the tree, untangled my over-sized shirt from the branch, and pulled me up to sit with him. He’s stronger than he looks.
He sighed, “Now, would you care to explain to me?”
I looked at him and tried to gather the right words to explain my early morning weirdness, “Well, you see—”
“Straight to the point, please.”
Whatever. “Straight to the point, right! Well…bored, saw the tree, climbed, lost balance, fell, got caught, and hanged.”
He looked at me like he can’t believe what he was seeing. When he noticed that I was grinning, he blinked and cleared his throat, “That was…”
“…precise?” I tried to add, I’m pretty—
“…stupid.” He finished his sentence and my thought. Whatever, my explanation was precise. He wanted a straight to the point answer!
I was just about to scowl at him when he jumped, gracefully, from the tree. Now that was hot.
Hot? Since when was he hot. Now.
“You know, you can directly tell me I’m hot; instead of talking to yourself…or to the tree.”
He smirked and went inside the house. I should really learn how to keep my thoughts inside my mind. Could I just hang my neck here and stop breathing?
*****
Living with Jonathan was both heaven and hell—mostly hell.
Ever since I woke up Tuesday dawn and got to know him, I concluded right there and then that my life would have a 180 degree turn. Indeed it did.
I never really learned how to cook, let alone do house chores. But in this house, in Jonathan’s house, I did all that. I don’t even know how he lives with my cooking. What kind of stomach does he have?
I have a choice not to do all those, but I was always good and being other people’s burden wasn’t really my thing. So I decided to volunteer on doing HALF of the house work, while he did the light ones.
“Why are you giving me the light work?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow to show his confusion.
I shrugged, “I don’t know. I just feel like such a burden, so I guess it’s just right that I take the heavy work.”
“I don’t think that’s right. This is my house.”
“Yea and I’m an unwanted visitor. The least I could do is help you, MORE than help you.”
He just shook his head and shrugged, “Fine, if that’s what you want. But the cooking, are you sure you’ll take that task?”
I nodded, smiling even.
Now, I think I regret my decision. No, I REALLY regret my decision. What if one day he dies because of my cooking? I don’t wanna be a murderer.
“I’m still breathing, Rihanna.” He said with a small smile, hiding his laughter.
Did I just say that out loud? Obviously.
“So, what are you cooking?” he asked, taking his seat in the dining table.
“I don’t know”, I replied, not looking and concentrating on what I was cooking, “I just pulled some ingredients from the fridge and threw everything here.”
He laughed, but I ignored him. If I didn’t, this food (is this even edible enough to be called food?) would burn and well…it will be his problem. Since I don’t eat that much.
No, I really don’t eat.
Ever since that night that we met, when he brought me my supper, I found it unattractive. It wasn’t that the food was bad, it was actually very delicious, but I found myself not hungry and my appetite was lost. I thought I was just not feeling well. But the next day, I was…never hungry throughout the whole day and the days after that. Now that I’m already here for three weeks—still the same.
“Uh, I’m getting kind of HANGRY”. Jonathan said in a sing-song voice, detaching me from my thoughts. I sighed.
“Coming, dear!” gosh, I felt like a wife. Where’s the children?
He grinned as I presented him the food and sat opposite him.
“What?!” I gave him a “what-the-hell?” look.
“Nothing.” he shrugged.
I cocked an eyebrow, “I was just role playing.” Sigh, “Anyway, tell me how bad the food is.”
“Sure thing, hon.”
I know he was just riding, but…that sent my heart somersaulting somewhere in the pits of my gut. I need to get away from him, now, before I do something stupid.
“Uh, yea. Enjoy your meal. I’ll just go to the garden.”
“What are you going to do there? Aren’t you going to join me?” he looked at me, hopefully, “Your cooking’s actually gotten better.”
Wow, that made me smile. “Really?”
He nodded, “Yea, really!”
I was tempted to go back to my seat and watch him enjoy my cooking, but then…my heart’s still missing somewhere inside my body and I’m afraid I might do something to scare him off. I don’t know what’s happening to me or why my heart’s acting that way.
I sighed. “No, you know I don’t eat. I’m sorry to be rude, but I can’t stay and watch you eat…it makes me…jealous?”
He just nodded and said, “Okay.”
I need to figure out what’s wrong with me before I do anything to him.
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