4. Special Event

Friday arrived too fast.

Today was important—final quiz before the semester exam. I didn’t really feel fit, but I had no choice. I already slept the whole of yesterday anyway. So I forced myself to go. I grabbed a loose black blouse, soft fabric pants, and pulled on my thickest hoodie jacket. At least my body and neck felt warm.

I walked to campus through the shortcut—ten minutes through narrow alleys. Simple. Fast. Familiar.

“Hem! Where were you yesterday? Why didn’t you pick up your phone!” A sharp voice hit me the moment I entered the campus gate.

Lindsay. Dressed in something entirely pink again. Designer, obviously.

“I was sick,” I replied flatly. “My phone got stolen. Pickpocketed when I went downtown to buy painting supplies.”

“Don’t tell me you’re mad at me! It’s David’s fault, not mine! And if your phone got stolen, why didn’t you just buy a new one?” she protested immediately. I kept walking toward my faculty building.

“Linds, I’m sick. I don’t have energy to argue,” I said lazily. Please Linds... Just please.

Then I added without looking back, “And I’m poor, remember? That’s why I didn’t buy a new phone right away.”

She groaned behind me. “Then who am I supposed to bring to the cake tasting appointment later?!”

Ah. Right. Cake tasting. She had mentioned it before—some important pre-wedding preparation thing. Fun for her… stressful for me.

"Still got Lili, Rowena, and Gracia,” I replied. “They’re your friends too. They’ve been complaining anyway that you don’t include them enough.”

Lindsay sighed dramatically.

“Huft… all because of David! I’m going to beat him up later!”

I smirked without turning around. That is a very genius idea my bestie.

“Make sure you castrate him too. For my satisfaction.”

“ROSE!” she yelled.

---

The quiz went fine. Not great. Not terrible. Just… survivable. After that, I sat through the rest of class like a zombie. One more subject left, then semester break, then exams. After that… home. Texas. Hot, dry air. Endless sky. Freedom, relief, and best of all... none percentage existence of HIM.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. Yeah right. As if I could afford going back home. During the exam, something weird happened. My methodology lecturer stood behind me the entire time. Not once leaving. And only later did I realize my blouse had a slightly low neckline.

Perfect. Just perfect. Pervert.

---

“Rose, you’re done with exams, right?” Lindsay asked later at the cafeteria. We were sitting during break. She had insisted I meet her there.

"Still one subject left,” I answered, sipping cold lemon juice she bought for me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Cake tasting!” she said immediately.

I sighed deeply.

“I already told you, Linds. Ask someone else.” But I knew why she insisted.

David. He would be there. Of course he would be there.

“I want you there, Rose,” she said seriously.

They’re boring. You’re the only one who actually helps me decide things.” I froze mid-sip.

“…Wait.” I put the glass down slowly.

“You’re forcing me to go because of cake?” My voice cracked slightly.

“Do you think I’m your best option for cake tasting?” That hurt more than I expected. Lindsay panicked instantly.

“No—hell no! That’s not what I meant! It’s because of David! Not you!” I stared at her.

Silent. Then sighed.

“The answer is still no. I’ve got a street painting exhibition. I need to display my work… maybe sell one. That’s my food money for next week.” Lindsay went quiet. She knew I wouldn’t accept her help.

“So… how many paintings?” she asked softly.

“One,” I said. “I couldn’t afford more canvases and paint. It’s expensive.”

A small pause.

“After that… are you free?” she asked again.

I nodded slightly.

“Then I’ll wait,” she said quickly. “We go cake tasting together after your painting sells. Please. I’ll even pray it sells for the highest price.”

I gave a small shrug.

“We’ll see.” But inside my head, I added: *I hope it doesn’t sell at all.* Just so I had an excuse not to go. Then I sighed again, staring out the window.

Why does Lindsay have to be so kind…

…and still have a brother like David Robinson? That man. Human absence of body fat. Walking billboard for underwear brands. Speaking of which— His face flashed again in my memory. Half-naked commercials. Slow motion. Water. Muscles. I groaned.

“Disgusting,” I muttered. And somehow… my day wasn’t even over yet.