15

Two months of coffee and tea.

Days of busy schedules.

Nights of cram studies sessions.

It's true that banters and brawls make our relationship---whatever this kind of thing we have, even more wholesome. I mean there were days when he's stressed out because of the piled reading assignments or the crammed case studies so I'd make coffee for him. 

I had no decent review and I knew my interview from the school representative sucked. Maybe it was the connivance of constellations and fabrication of fate because I passed nonetheless.

So we spent late nights studying together, going out for study outs, playing flashcards with terms, or me procrastinating and him nitpicking me for it.

" I'm Zoe. "  I whispered in thin air.

I placed his cup of coffee on his study table.

My eyes wandered to his shelf of books. It's my first time to see his room. It's his long exam tomorrow and  recitation so he opted to study in his room than be tempted in the living room.

His room is adorned with neatly stacked post it notes and highlighters.

Minimal photos of him in emo style sat on his table, a dog's picture, picture of him and what I assume as his mom, and the contract fixed in a frame.

Memories came but I'm not sure if my mind is playing trickster with me.

I don't remember  me signing that paper. There were nothing more than fragments of that day or night. I don't know.

I don't know why, when, where, or what are the things I did.

Or why I said those things when we were alone at the beach.

Of course he's not falling for me.

But I can make him.

One month more.

That's the farthest I can go.

He came back from the bathroom, eyes trained on the steaming cup. He smiled and thanked me. I took that as my cue to leave.

He pulled something from his drawer and gave it to me.

" Open it. " 

I miss that voice.

We have this silent agreement that everytime we're studying we won't be on each others trail. If he's on the living room I'm on my room. If he's studying on the dining table I'm at the balcony. So long as we're not together.

"What's this? "  I pulled the ribbon that adorned the white box.

I felt giddy and excited.

I felt like a desperate kid that wants lollipop and finally gets her hands on them.

"Really?" I turned the box upside down. My face a canvas of disappointment.

"It's yours. " His visage held no remorse at all. I so wanted to wipe the smug smile he pulled off.

" Stop playing with me. It's empty. " 

He bit back a smile.

"It's love. My heart's yours to keep. "

I felt so hot, molten lava would be shy.

"Gosh, don't overuse your remaining three brain cells. You're like a pro flirt ---wannabe. Baby, you need more practice. " I headed to the door.

"You know what sometimes I wonder, what was I like the last lifetime? Was I a bee? A butterfly? An ogre even? " He added.

I hid the smile that threatened to form when I turned around to face him.

"You're probably a bee. You buzz all the time. Have you seen my car keys? Where's the stupid remote? Darn these donuts and coffee are gooood. You reek full on but half-assed conversations. " Saying those things are different from keeping them in my core memory.

"But if I'm a bee, will you be my honey?" He fluttered his lashes dramatically.

I scoffed to keep myself from smiling.

That tickled my teenage girl hormonal version.

"Oh My. Ew. That's fat ass cheezy, Cream Cheese would be lactose intolerant. "

"You're An angel."

"You're spewing nonsense again."

"My angel."

"Don't start. My heart's fragile. With your smile, my resolve won't last long."

I crossed my arms. 

"How so? " He playfully sat on the edge of his desk, his hands on his chin, and a fake thinking look.

"Your love is a stray bullet. I wasn't the one you're pointing at but I was the victim shot dead seconds after your pull the lever of  lethal love in a form of you."

"You've put me in a fragile state. And, you were never the stray bullet. I was using shot gun. You were my target after all. It's you. It's always you."

He pushed himself off the table and grabbed me by my waist. A hollow puff of air escaped from me. I controlled my breathing as much as I can to never give away my breathlessness from this proximity.

He attempted to steal a kiss by pulling my hair to angle my face. My lips parted in their own accord, like they're moving with the deadliest cadence of my beating heart.

"Should I remind you to never fall for my words? " that came out like a ragged whisper.

He started playing games with my sanity the moment he kissed the sensitive part below my ear. My eyes seemed to welcome the familiar sensation and fluttered close to bask in the heavenly euphoria.

"You mean you did? " His kisses, though trivial specks of lust, made me highly intoxicated.

And what does intoxication do? It makes you  want it till you get it, you'll be crazy craving for more, there's no other way around. It's always down that road, no detours, it's always a two way road, many blind curves.

With what he's doing to me was greatly heightened when he roughly pushed me against the wall.

If this is what it feels like, I'd barter every breath I take just to have the slightest taste of him kissing me.

His phone rang.

He left me dazed and confused.

Dream stomper alarm app.

Beyotch Pomodoro.

I went out only to be pulled back in.

He kissed me senseless, to which I kissed back with equal ardor.

"Happy Studying. " He sealed his passionate kisses with one forehead kiss.

"Yeah. I-- you too. "