How am I supposed to pretend to be someone I'm not when I don't know anything about the person?
"I've thought about it, Dylan… and I'm not sure if I want to hold this grudge against you any longer."
Clarissa's had a lot of time on her hands since resigning (technically fired but that's a little mean, isn't it?), and I think she's been working on her… moral compass, maybe?
"I didn't know you had one against me in the first place."
"About what happened with Max… it's over. I told all the boys they can talk to me as a mentor, and that's it."
"Well, you could be a bit more friendly than that."
"How so?"
"If you plan on being his future stepmother and all-"
I see a blush creeping up on her cheeks, and have to hold back my own quiet chuckle. It's cute when she's flustered.
"Is that really necessary? He's a grown adult…"
"You can't avoid him forever- you don't dislike him anyways, so what's the issue?"
"Do you want me to dislike you again? You do your job awfully well as the anti-cupid, but can't you turn it down a bit?"
That's the part that confuses me. Why does she keep calling me that? I thought it was some sort of nickname at first, but…
I think the guy can stir feelings of dislike, somehow. According to the backstory she's given me (though I've clearly never been good at improvisation).
"I'll try, but it's kind of in my nature, you know?"
At times on dates, she'll wave her hand around at couples for some odd reason. I do the same, trying to catch on to this little game whenever I see a couple.
"I was really reluctant at first."
"Hmm?"
I turn my head and my eyes gaze directly at hers. My attention shifts from what I was about to confess. I've always wondered about her eyes…
"Why do you always wear red contacts? It's not a natural color, unless you're trying to look like a vampire on purpose."
"I'm never going to fit in anyways, so I should just embrace my differences."
"Right, you don't care about other's opinions."
"Only yours, honestly."
A smirk crosses my lips, and I wonder what I've done to earn such an honor.
"I'm quite flattered, really. But I'd be lying if I didn't think your thoughts of me didn't matter- I spent half an hour picking out my outfit before meeting you today."
"You do seem like someone that'd pay attention to detail."
"Is it the specific lesson schedules for my students? Because half of the time they don't go according to plan."
"No… more like how you were able to notice the pain I hid under layers of concealer. With Max's father."
For some reason, this doesn't seem like something pretend anymore. The real thing, though- I'm not sure what it is. Clarissa seems to think I'm aware.
"Were you close with his mother?"
She seems to think for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. I wish I could understand.
"I don't think I ever really knew her, to be honest. She seems so different from me now."
So she was friends with his parents? It might make sense with how she acted before, if she knew what had happened to them.
"Then, there's no point dwelling on the past. You can make a decision on what to do now, for the future."
"The thing is, I'm not quite sure. I haven't been jobless in over three hundred years."
"Right, haha."
For some reason, the sarcasm is hard to detect in her voice.
"Clarissa?"
"Yeah?"
It feels as if we've been growing distant. Ever since she's tried convincing me I'm an anti-cupid. Or like one, whatever she means.
"Can we just think about our relationship… as people, without the supernatural stuff? I like being Dylan, once in a while."
"Oh, obviously- I was just reminiscing, I guess."
Something is off, yet I'm not really sure what the root of it all is.
However, a problem seems way more obvious when Clarissa's at my house for dinner. Max leaves his room in his old pajamas.
"Hey, Dylan. Hi, Clarissa."
She freezes up as he enters, though I don't think Max notices. If I didn't like her so much it would've slipped by me too.
"I'm cooking salmon for the two of us. If you want, I can make a sandwich for you-"
"Really? A sandwich? What's wrong with him having salmon?"
"Nothing… I'm just pretty sure he doesn't care."
Max is standing in front of us throughout this interaction, though he doesn't seem bothered.
"I want cheese on my sandwich, okay? No mayonnaise, but I want cucumbers. Not pickles."
"Alright, pal, I'll make sure to add ten pumps of mayo-"
"He literally said he didn't want mayonnaise, Dylan."
Silence enters the kitchen once more. This is certainly awkward. Max clears his throat and asks.
"Are you okay, Clarissa?"
"I'm fine, I just… I was trying to look out for you."
"What if we all just acted like the last five minutes didn't happen? I'll get started on everyone's food, and you two can sit at the table."
Should I have acknowledged it? I don't know. But I have better things to worry about, like playing "chef" and "waiter" and "restaurant manager" all of a sudden.
"Here's the steak for you, mademoiselle. And a sandwich for the guy that looks like he just had a sleepover with rats."
"My bed head is not that bad! I wasn't even sleeping either, so I don't know why it looks like this."
We both laugh, until Clarissa cackles even harder than the both of us, slapping my shoulder and unintentionally making me wince.
"Oh, sorry-"
"It's fine, I guess I'm doing something right if that's the first time I've seen you laugh so hard, hmm?"
"Yeah, you're right."
Things are good between us, aren't they? She enjoyed the dinner and complimented my cooking.
But after that evening, Clarissa never showed up at my house when Max was around. And I have no idea how she knew when he was.
Has she been acting differently? I think some would say so, but why does change have to be a bad thing?
"Hey, handsome."
"Are you talking about me? Positively?"
"Nevermind, you're more like dense."
"Okay, I didn't expect such affection anyways."
We both arrived at a botanical garden for a date. Hand in hand, this all feels calm. Like nothing is wrong. Not that I'm trying to imply that anything is.
I don't even notice her grip on me has ceased when I hear a yelp.
"Ow. this dumb thorn pricked me!"
"Were you actively trying to touch it?"
Good grief, I have to hold back my laugh. But I can't.
"Hahahaha, why would you-"
"It's not funny! I'm bleeding, you know."
"Are you gonna die if an ambulance doesn't arrive in the next five minutes?"
"No…"
"Come here, let me see."
I grab her pricked finger, examining it for a moment. A bit worse than a paper cut, but it won't leave a scar.
My face moves closer, and I press the softest kiss against it. Clarissa's face looks flushed.
"Are you having an allergic reaction or am I making you blush?"
"The latter, obviously… did you hit your head on something?!"
"I'm just messing with you."
We stop by a convenience store after to get bandaids, and I place it on myself,
"Does it still hurt?"
"A little, yeah."
"I think I know something that'll distract you from the pain…"
A smirk crosses my lips, until I receive a painful slap on the shoulder.
"Don't you dare, Dylan- we're literally in the car!"
This is certainly some type of relationship. My gaze flickers to the back of her car, and I see a bunch of papers.
"Did you get into sales or are you starting an art business?"
"Oh- Seraphine's husband offered me a job. You know, Alphonse?"
"Wait, you've been working?"
"Is that really a surprise? Am I supposed to only be competent in one position my entire existence?"
"So, what's the job?"
"It's a secret, obviously!"
Of course it is. Not that I mind that much. Maybe it's a fun job, and the secret isn't hurting anyone.
Though something tugs at me, like this isn't her only secret. It's weird, since Clarissa seems nothing but honest.
Aren't I the one that's lying, then? To be someone I'm not, someone she apparently knows so well.
"Can I invite you to some place?"
"Are you already thinking of our next date?"
"Well, I can't help being a planner."
I'm sorry, Clarissa. But I need things to make sense for me too. A few days pass, and we're on the road.
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise- but I think it'll be enjoyable."
I take a look at the navigation, and we're only a few minutes away. My focus is on driving. Mostly. I almost feel guilty for the situation I'm putting her in.
Isn't it still technically a date, though? Just with other… motives.