Forget Me Too

Three

"Whose hoodie is that?" My roommate audibly drops an empty laundry basket on top of the washer.

I shove a handful of clothes in the washer, including Caleb’s hoodie. "Mine." s**t, too fast. Way to get out of suspicion, Oli.

Another handful of clothing enters the washer in my sorry attempt to play it cool. The first thing I did after I got back from the University was collect my dirty clothes to wash them with the hoodie. It felt remarkably wrong washing a celebrity's clothing along with my cheap, commoner's clothes, but I was trying to keep it below my roommate's radar. Not to mention, doing it separately would require more water, detergent, energy, and other things necessary to wash clothes. I'm practically saving Mother Earth here.

We don't have a fixed laundry schedule, so it wasn't suspicious that I'm doing mine on a Saturday afternoon. Perhaps so much that my roommate thought it would be some kind of fun activity to do together. She decided to do hers at the same time.

She was already out when I went home in the morning and fully unaware of the hoodie's existence until now. I prefer her not knowing about it at all, but no garment can slip the eyes of Sara, the self-proclaimed personal stylist of mine.

"I haven't seen it before."

"Yeah, I just bought it." I avert my eyes.

"It doesn't look new, though, the fabric is a bit worn," Sara says, matter-of-factly.

My face immediately turns to a frown at the uncanny statement. She saw a glimpse of it, for a split second, from three feet away, yet she knew that 'the fabric is worn'? Fashion Design students are scary.

"I thrifted it." I lie. This is the worst type of lie, the one that isn’t one bit believable. The panic made me bad at making excuses.

Her stare burns on my back. I'm still throwing my clothes inside the machine to avoid eye contact. Maybe she'll get off my back when she realizes I'm busy here.

"You didn't come home last night." Sara had the same tone strict moms in movies have. My nerves crawl.

"I was at Jae's. You should've come, I was lonely there." True. I wouldn't have been alone in a corner and possibly escaped that guy if she had been with me. If that’s the case, then I would still have my top instead of this hoodie and wouldn’t have to go through this conversation. Unfortunately, she had an exam this morning. The whole night was meant ‘for academic purposes only’. Her words, not mine.

Damn that exam. It’s all your fault.

"Oh, were you?" She says, condescendingly. "Henry was there too, he said he didn't see you."

“Of course, he’s there, he lives there.” I follow the joke with a shaky laugh that probably deepens my grave.

Henry is her boyfriend and Jae's best friend. They're basically the reason why we ended up living together. After France, my allowance took a beating, it was impossible to afford living alone anymore. Luckily, Sara's previous roommate graduated, thus an empty room for my broke ass. The place is big enough for two people and costs a lot less than living alone. And I get to have free fashion advice.

"There's like a hundred people there. I barely remember anyone I saw."

"He said he'd drive you home so he could come over, but you weren't there," she sounded almost offended. "Then you went back wearing a mysterious hoodie? I've connected the points."

She has connected the points.

"You have not connected anything. Besides, I bought that last week."

"Last week? How come I didn't see it yesterday when I was dressing you up." She fiddles with her wavy blonde strands.

Shit, is this the price I pay for letting her rummage through my stuff whenever I'm going out? I think she has memorized all the clothes I own. I don't even know what I wore last Thursday.

"Because I took it out of the bag just now." Pathetic. What a lame excuse. I should just tell her the truth. Maybe go casually like, it’s Caleb Shin’s. Yeah, the guitarist of Thirdhand. Because I left Jae’s with him and slept with him and lost my damn shirt.

Now that's what a lie sounds like. In fact, if I admitted it, she might brush me off as joking. Wouldn’t that be better? Maybe. But I can’t say that out loud, it’s as if I’m confirming what happened last night, and I absolutely do not want to.

"Hmm" She leans on a washing machine, then passes me the detergent soap.

I turn to face the washer and dump a little over the needed amount when a beep comes.

"You have a text. It says, 'Hey Vi—OH MY GOD you slut!" Sara’s squeal burst my eardrums.

Fight or flight switches on. I snatch the cellphone from her palm to see what she’s squealing about. I don’t fancy the idea that I have.

Unknown Number: Hey Vi, found ur shirt

Another text comes in,

Unknown Number: I know where I took it off now

And another,

Unknown Number: doubt u could wear it anymore tho

The texts are all from an unknown number, but I know exactly who sent them. My gaze lay on Sara who is staring at me, cross-armed.

"I think it's a wrong number," I say as type 'I think you got the wrong number' with shaky fingers.

Both responses come in as quickly as my heartbeat and none of them bought my lie. How did he even find my number?

*

I have never been so uncertain of my phone number my whole life. And it wasn't because I don't remember it. Oh, believe me, I had it memorized the day I got my cell phone and never changed it since then—until this moment, if I would type a different last digit. I pulled air from the deepest of my lungs before clicking 9—the last digit of my cellphone number. After exactly ten seconds, a text chimed in. And another one. And another one. My eyes lifted off the screen to examine the man sitting across from me in the booth. He had his hand glued on his cellphone and was grinning ear to ear.

When Greg and his boyfriend abandoned me to dance, Caleb slid into the seat they vacated. Apparently, this spot was completely visible from the bar counter he was at earlier and my hiding attempts were futile.

"Seriously?" I blurted out when another text came.

He raised his head slowly and guiltily like a child who was about to get scolded. I'm soft for kids. And I might be soft for this guy too.

"What?" His eyes glimmered with innocence so fake I almost laughed. But he had a mischievous smile playing on his lips that told me he was failing acting on purpose.

"If I knew you'd blew up my messages I shouldn't have given you my number." I crossed my arms.

"Too late now." My screen lit up as he clicked his raised cellphone.

I rolled my eyes and checked whatever he sent me. My lids squinted instantly. To blatantly flirt through text while sitting in front of me, this guy was something. And I couldn't even say I didn't like it.

One more ping for a picture of a dog with a wig to flash in my face.

"What heck is this?" I snorted.

"A dog with a wig." He said matter-of-factly, standing up as Greg and Archie approached. The couch I'm sitting on lowered from his weight.

"So those two are dating?"

"Yeah, guess so." I followed his gaze at Greg and Archie, who were pushing through the crowd. "Why? You're interested in one of them?"

"Nah, I prefer their chaperone." He looked at me from the corner of his eye then winked.

An exasperated laugh escaped. "Did you just call me a chaperone?"

Not because I'm babysitting that couple means I'm their chaperone. I'm more like a... well... a third wheel. Ugh, crap, chaperone sounded better.

"No, I said I'm interested in their chaperone," he gasped loudly, "OMG! Is that you?"

My elbow moved on its own and connected with his stomach, making him grunt. "Asshole." I waited for another mean remark, but he just laughed it off and waited for Greg and Archie to return.

"They look cute together." He whispered to me when they finally sat down. My heart did a little summersault from him saying my friend and his boyfriend looked cute together because even though it wasn't my place, I appreciated that.

Caleb did most of the talking after I introduced them to each other. The couple seemed more comfortable with him, which would have been offensive to me as the "chaperone" if they actually had my attention. My mind was wallowing with the fact that he said he was interested in me, and my body was focused on his arm over me and the rhythm he was tapping on my shoulder. I didn't even know when and how I got into this situation. At some point, I found myself leaning on him while sipping my drink. Once or twice they would glance at me with regard, and I would smile and nod without knowing what it was for. All I knew was this guy successfully rendered me useless.

"I'm gonna go out for a smoke." Three pairs of eyes fell on me, but I did not wait for any response and stood up. Caleb's palm slid down my waist and I fought so hard not to trigger a tickle.

"I'll come with you."

I looked at Greg in hopes he'd intervene. Sadly, supernatural mind powers weren't vested in the likes of me. My dear friend thought I was asking permission. He gave a thumbs up.

I mentally cursed the traitor. The very reason I wanted to go out was to distance myself from this man who was quickly taking over me. Apparently, trying not to climb this guy's lap and kiss him could be a real chore. And I'm about to lose my mind.

When we got outside, I offered him a cigarette, which he refused. My eyebrow arched. "Then what are you here for?"

"I thought you'd need an ashtray."

I kicked his outstretched legs, making him laugh.

He was sitting on an old bench in the alley beside the club. Smoking inside was prohibited. If only I was informed the previous week, before I turned this guy's hand into an ashtray, then I wouldn't be in this position. I should have gotten, well... not so fresh air in the first place. Now here I am, collecting polluted air by walking back and forth while I puffed my own pollutant.

Bad air probably did have a toll on my logical thinking skills because, somehow, I'm almost convinced having Caleb's company wasn't an issue at all. Well, it wasn't... yet. Flirting was supposed to be harmless, fun, thrilling, something along the line. And it would be a lie to say I wasn't attracted to him. God, he's just too damn beautiful. But the principle I live by neither aligned nor favored my recent decisions. I have a feeling I'm going to regret this in the near future.

"Come here, you're making me dizzy." He tugged my arm, pulling me in between his legs. I have nothing against sitting down, but I fear the run-down bench wouldn't be able to carry both our weights. His breath was hot on my stomach when he enclosed me in his arms.

"You really don't want one?" My offer was again deflected.

It felt sad smoking alone when you're not alone. Shoving in your face that their life would somehow be longer than yours.

"I don't smoke, babe. It's bad for the lungs." See? Right in the gut.

"I didn't know you're health conscious." I blew the smoke away from him, courtesy of me having manners.

"Not really, but I sing. I couldn't risk hurting the windpipes."

"Really?" I said as my eyes grew wide.

His denying my offers gave out the not smoking part, but him singing was news. An interesting one. I'm not one to judge, I never expected he was that type.

I knew nothing about this guy. What I did know was, he had raised the bar himself.

"Yep. I play at Rez's every Thursday, you should come sometimes."

I gazed down at his expectant face and laughed. He looked almost like a puppy asking for treats. I pinched his cheek. “I want to kiss you.”

A grin grew on his lips, obviously enjoying the moment. “Sure.”

That was my cue. I wrapped my hands around his chin, prompting his face upward, then leaned down. He groaned as I nibbled on his lips. To my surprise, he pushed me lightly to break away from the kiss.

“You’ll come by, right?” A pair of puppy eyes melted me.

"Ugh ‘kay." The fake irritation earned a laugh.

He pressed his face on my stomach and stayed like that for a few minutes. I'm amazed by how natural it felt. Odd, but in a good way.

We were in a dark, deserted alley and all the things that could happen between two people in a place like this shuffled in my mind. Luckily, we were on the same page.

"Say-"

"Hmm?"

"-you think those two were fine on their own because I parked just right there," he glanced at the left corner of the parking lot where the lamppost had already died, "if you maybe wanna continue where we left off last time. Or do you prefer the men's room?"

Without a second thought, I smooshed the cigarette bud on the wall and threw it in the bin. Greg and Archie were old enough. In fact, they're both older than me. The chaperone had resigned.

I yanked him up, welcoming his lips with mine. He laughed against my mouth, which caused a little fluttering in my stomach. It's so close to becoming my new favorite thing.

I did not want to stop, but what we were meant to continue was more appealing to both my mind and body. I pulled away.

"Let's go."

*