Me, he says. Or said.
He dreams. About. Me.
I sat down, a little shocked. No I was more than shocked. The guy dreams. About. Me. That does not happen. It isn't happening. It wasn't. I mean, there are more important things. Were more important things. I mean. O-levels. Doomsday. AND THIS! WHAT IS THIS?
I started hyperventilating. Short. Breaths. Can't. Breathe. Cold. Sweat. Shit shit shit shit. Shoot I. Should. Not. Be. Cursing. Right. Now.
"Melanie," Ryo said. His voice sounded far away. His hand was still in a death grip around mine.
"What," I manage to breathe. Then went back to hyperventilating again. Didn't. They. Have. Paper. Bags. In. Starbucks. What. Is. The. Imbecile. Doing.
Then, as if he knew what I was thinking, he went to the counter and came back with - lo and behold - a paper bag. I snatched the paper bag from his hands and blew into it like I was blowing a balloon.
Immediately I felt better. Thank God I read enough random chick lit books to know that paper bags work wonders when one is hyperventilating.
Which brings me back to Ryo. Now that my breaths were longer and deeper, I was starting to notice the similarities between him and dream guy.
"Are you... the dream guy?" I whisper, "Because if you are I have found 'you' and now I just need to do... whatever it is... to you... and... You're here trying to dissuade me from finding 'you' because you're my 'soulmate'." I made air quotations at that word, my face one of disbelief.
Then I continued, "How the hell does that work?"
"Melanie," he said, squeezing my hand tighter - if that was even possible.
I looked up, and stared into his eyes. There was something about this guy that made me lower my guard. Something, yet I still couldn't bring myself to trust him. Not yet. Especially not when he's going around saying he's my 'soulmate'.
"You're missing the point."
"Which is?"
"I'm your soulmate, no inverted commas at that." And so... you're the one I'm supposed to 'be with'? I'm 16, not 60! You can come talk about 'soulmates' with me when I'm 60. Not now. Especially not now.
"I know what you're thinking. You're 16, not 60. What soulmates am I talking about?" SHIT HE JUST READ MY MIND.
I looked at him warily. But he held my gaze, ever confident.
"So it's true," I said, not really willing to believe it, "You... really dream about me?" But if you're my 'soulmate', why am I not dreaming about you?
"Because there are two ways this can play out," he said, freaking me out that he's answering my unspoken questions.
"What are they?" I breathed. Because if I didn't he'd do that freaky 'reading my mind' crap again. And force me to use expletives. Which I am not fond of. Again.
"One, you stay here, with me. We don't perish. You get through your Os. You and I can be happy together. I know you better than you know yourself."
Okay that's creepy, I thought before I could stop myself. He gave me a look that said he knew what I just thought.
Which made me demand this: "Stop reading my mind."
He waved my demand away like it was nothing, saying, "If you wish." That condescending basta- I. Will. Not. Curse.
"Two, you look for him. One of us dies."
