JUNE;I took the stairs, one at a time, hand tight on the railings. They were already seated, Mom, Mr. Grayson, and that boy, but their cutlery still lay perfectly, glasses remained untouched. The aroma of different delicacies wafted through the air into my nostrils.But I still hated the idea of this dinner. It should have been just my Mom and me, on our little dinner table, maybe having some rice and grilled fish, something simple and not dramatic, like the array of dishes that lay across the long wooden table, as if it were Christmas. Rich people and show-offs. They always love complicated meals.I sighed slightly. My eyes fell on him, not like it was the first time since the staircase. But I just noticed his eyes lit up. Why was his lip lifted at the corner? I darted my eyes around me, maybe I had worn my clothes inside out.Why was he looking at me that way? God! I hated those eyes on me. I hated how they suddenly made each step heavy. I hated the way his face shone in the light,
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