17/100
“Hey, baby.” Cal mouthed with a grin influenced by gin. I could tell. I could always tell whether he had a few shots moments before just by looking at the curve of his opening smile. It’s an unimpressive skill I picked up way back when we were still dating. My nose isn’t as good as my eye. Lucky for me though, the slightly higher left corner of his mouth is a dead giveaway.
For a minute, he stood there, from across the narrow street appropriately named Perpetual. Perhaps because Perpetual St. was perpetually busy, and bustling with even busier people. I mimicked his cockiness with a slight tilt of the chin, curl of the lip, and narrowing of the eyes. Both of us knew what the other was thinking. “Nope. You follow me.”
But even before, Cal was never the one to come running towards you, literally and figuratively speaking. Feeling the defeat, I let my feet trudge in his direction. Carefully, I crossed the street all with intimidating grace because I knew his eyes were on me. “Hello, beautiful,” he said without blinking. Inside, I was amused. Two years of seeing each other was enough for me to learn on my own that he blinks twice when he’s lying, once when he’s nervous, and never when he means it. “It’s a little too early for alcohol don’t you think?” I said jokingly as we walked side by side to someplace we haven’t decided yet. Luckily, the street that intersects Perpetual is brimming with places to eat and we could just walk into one anytime.
“But it’s never too late to love me again?” he teased, briefly resting his hand on the small of my back before letting it fall away. “Of course not, baby.” I flirted back, with fluttering eyelashes for added touch. Flirting with an ex-lover is only dangerous if you mean it, or worse, enjoy it. So far, so good, I thought. His laugh was a response as if to say, “Glad you’re playing along.” I sure am glad it’s all just a game now, Cal. Finally, we settled for the nearest coffee shop. I plopped on the beaten, navy blue, leather couch carelessly. He stared at me like I was some oddball before he reached for the armchair right across me. “What happened to you? You’ve changed,” he said, looking at me intently. “Changed how?” “I dunno. First you changed your look, and now you’re more reserved. Is there a new guy in your life?” he replied slowly, but this time he looked away. Taken slightly a back, I hesitated to answer him. “Thank you for noticing. But no. I’m fine on my own. For now. Wait here.” I got up to place my order. Looking back at him while waiting in line, I couldn’t help but notice how Cal also changed. He looked more mature, and around him was an air of subtle melancholy. After five minutes or so, I picked up my coffee and returned to our corner. “Hi, I was just thinking about you.” he greeted. Strangely, he was lighter than earlier. “Hello you, what about me?” I reciprocated his cheeriness as I take my seat. I like cheerful Cal. “Nothing I just remembered how cute you were when one time you randomly said, ‘Bed me on the couch.’ Ah, you naughty kitten,” he said half-laughing without taking his eyes off me. The crinkles on his nose and between his eyebrows framed his bright eyes beautifully. I do remember that time. He and I were in a transitory period, a time long after we became friends and a little before we became lovers. On a date, we walked past a furniture store and randomly, I blurted out, “Bed me on the couch.” while holding his hand. He squeezed my hand gently and looking straight ahead, he whispered, “Later, dear.” “Yep. Cute. I remember that too. But why are you bringing up what happened way back?” I said, intentionally taking my time before I go full-on, straight-faced. Not that it’s not funny, Cal. But what are you trying to do? Take me back to the happier times, and then what? Bait me with my own emotions? For your entertainment? Or do you just want me back, is that it? I kept my mouth shut after the first question. I knew he wasn’t a fan of interrogation. Asking him too much would only tense him up, later resulting in yet again another huge fight. In retrospect, what we had wasn’t at all picture-perfect. Half of the time, we had lengthy arguments about the littlest things, but mostly about the context of what one just said to the other. “Nothing. Why ruin such a lovely mood? Can’t we meet up one evening and just talk casually without you pointing fingers at me again?” he replied as if he just read my mind. He probably did. I answered him with humbled silence. He was right, I was pointing fingers again. Over-analyzing his words, and miscalculating his intentions. Old habits do die hard. Especially the awful ones.
He leaned back on his armchair, and sighed. Cal rested his gaze on the table before finally returning mine. “You know what, finish your coffee and I’m taking you home.” Typical of him to walk away so easily without a good and proper fight. Funny how it’s still us despite the changes we wanted the other to see. Unspeaking, we walked to the building I was living in. It wasn’t too far away. But I hoped it was because I wanted a little more time with him. To mend things a bit if I still can. “Well, this is my place. Thank you for the time.” I forced a smile. “Okay. But know this before I say good night: Given the chance, I’d do it all over again with you, honestly. You and no one else. Maybe not now. Maybe when all is right again. Good night, Lia.”