After I managed to make Jonah stunned in silence, he obediently ate up the food I had ordered for us.
His face told me that he was impressed by the meal or maybe it was just because he was hungry, but we'd never know with Jonah. We spent the rest of the night eating in silence, after I announced that we should meet up again the next day, and we both peacefully agreed on it.
He was still ticked off by me, though, that much I could tell. The silence that hung between us, while honestly bearable, was undoubtedly strained. Every few minutes his hard eyes would fall on me, I would pretend not to notice, and then he would turn away, his jaw ticking. I let myself appear as calm as possible, when all I really wanted to do was beg him not to be so deathly quiet, because it was starting to freak me out.
Around nine, we called it a night. He told me, in a low grunt, that he had an early afternoon shift on Saturdays, so I told him we'd start around two.
Right now, it was one fifty in a peaceful Saturday, and I was lounging at the same table that we both had sat yesterday.
I told him to bring two iced drink this time. He was still busy, thoughâthere was a group of middle school girls who freaking gathered at the counter to order drinks. Why couldn't just one of the girls volunteer to order while the others just sit in silence? Because the barista was Jonah Gibbs, that was why.
I rolled my eyes and munched on my French fries, trying so hard not to let the scowl show. I was so pathetic, getting jealous by a bunch of middle school girls. What the hell had happened to me? Get a grip, Hannah!
Ten minutes later, Jonah came over with a tall glass of ice blended cappuccino with extra whipped cream and caramel syrup (for me) and raspberry mocha (for himself). I almost grinned when I saw what he had made for himself, but he glared at me before I could even let the corners of my lips twitch.
I was impressed, though, because he hadn't gotten me a drink that I disliked so far. He was very, very good at what he did.
We started off the meeting with silence, as we both drowned ourselves into our drinks. Like last time, though, our eyes kept on observing each others' features, as if we were both looking for something in each other. It was weirdâand almost comical how we were simultaneously lifting our glasses and staring at each other at the same time.
I spoke first. "So. I'm sorry for the outburst yesterday," I started, because we hadn't brought up our little dispute ever since I stunned him into silence with the seven points that I'd stated, and I really needed him to know that even though I (supposedly) disliked him, I never meant to offend him. Not in that way, anyway, because it would've been low for me. "But trust me, it was never my intention to make you feel inferior towards me or something like that. Or whatever you thought of me."
I sighed, shifting in my seat. His eyes never left me, but I was already looking down at my glass.
"It was justâI mean, it was obvious, right?" I said, lifting my shoulder into a short shrug. "It was more convenient if I ordered you that stupid burger on my name because I won't have to pay for it in the end anyway. And you were hungry and I didn't know when the last time you'd eaten and I don't wanna get the diner's shining new employee pass out on me. I don't know. It's stupid. Whatever."
I was sure that my cheeks had warmed and become pink by now, so I let my head drop, letting my hair fall into my face to shield my cheeks. My eyes trailed the movements of his thumb that was slowly sliding up and down against the glass that he was holding in his right hand.
He cleared his throat. "Why, though?" I looked up and met his eyes with my confused ones. "Why did you... do that. I don't like you. You don't even like me."
I don't like you. I'm in love with you. I swallowed down the first answer that rang inside my head, and opted for something else that wouldn't cause him shock. "We're partners in this damn project, Jonah. We have to get along somehow. That's literally the point of us being partnered up together. Doesn't mean that I'm gonna dislike you any less, though," I added hastily, before he got any idea.
"Right," he nodded slowly, as if he was trying to understand. And then he dropped his eyes, looking down at his own glass. His thumb was still slightly moving against the glass, and then his pointer finger tapped on the glass twice, his nail making contact and creating a soft clinking sound. "Well, thanks, then. Sorry for being hard on you about it."
I fought the twitching of my lips, pushing down the urge to break into a huge smile because I didn't need to freak out Jonah while we were having this moment. Instead, I just answered casually, "It's fine, whatever. Sorry for being hard on you too, about Monday. I was just having a bad day and I wasn't really impressed that I'd gotten myself in the principal's office, and you were there when I needed to take it out on something. And now you're stuck with me."
"Eh," he said, shrugging. "What's done is done. But sorry about the water thing. And my comment about your bra."
This time, I really did smile, because he finally, finally apologized for the damn thing. "Don't forget what you did to my hair," I reminded, gesturing to my red hair. I couldn't believe that it had almost been two weeks since we first started to talkâall thanks to the holy sodaâand now we were here, preparing for our (cough, fake, cough) engagement. Even though the soda did cost me a few good dollars for the hair dye, I could never hate it because it was, well, what had started everything.
Jonah snorted. "I almost forgot you used to be a blonde," he commented, before glowering at me. "You did spill your drink on me first."
"It was an accident!" I cried, hoping it looked convincing.
"Whatever. What's done is done, let' get over it," he repeated, before downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Are we going to start doing the project?"
I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Have you found any ideas?"
He pursed his lips, and I found myself staring at them unabashedly. I stopped before he noticed that I was drooling over his lips, though, and focused on his eyes. "What if... we met through a dating site?"
I really did burst out into laughter, and I did laugh for a good five minutes, feeling tears escape my eyes. Jonah glared at me, but the sides of his lips slightly twitched, so I kept on laughing until it subsided slowly. "You're a Hollywood actor, Jonah. You don't need a dating site."
"It's just an idea!" he defended moodily. "I ran out of it."
"It sounds funny, though. Very rom-com-ish. I could see it play out: you've gotten enough of all the Hollywood bullshit, hating the overexposure from the media, cursing your agent for forcing you into fake dates for publicity. You have a hot model fresh in your arm as a fake girlfriend, but you're just sick of it all."
"And then I set up a profile on a dating site, just for the heck of it," he added, which surprised me because I wasn't really being serious about the idea. "Let's just say that the name that I use as an actor isn't my real name, but just a stage name. So I set up that profile, using my r nealame, putting up a picture of myself without the fake tan and the hairspray, which made me look like a completely ordinary guy."
"Because obviously fake tans and hairsprays are magic," I commented. "And then you met me."
"And then I met you," he agreed, his face still scrunched up in concentration, before breaking into a condescending smirk. "You're just a lonely English teacher who desperately needed a date, because you couldn't get one."
"Hey!"
He snickered. "But somehow we got each other and became good friends."
"And then friends became something more," I mused quietly. "I wanted to meet you, but you completely freaked out over it."
"Because I look a lot more like that guy in the movie posters in person than in the picture," he finished. "I knew I would freak you out if you knew that I was far from just the ordinary country guy you met online."
"But then I already knew that you were living in the same city, so I pushed even more because I was just oh so head over heels with you," I said, rolling my eyes. "I threatened to let you go, and you luuurve me too much to let me walk away. So you gave in."
He scowled at the grin on my face, but didn't object.
"By that time, you already saw me in person because you're such a stalker like that, while I remain oblivious as to what you fully look like in person."
He let it sink in, searching for the continuation.
But then I added more to our fanfiction, "You finally found a way to tell me who you really were, but you were just a big ass coward. So then you told me to watch some talk show that youâas in, the celebrity youâwould appear on, and you gave me some cryptic message so you wouldn't give my identity away and whatever, and I was smart enough to I put two and two together instantly when I watched the show. Immediately after that, you contacted me to inform that the guy on the talk show and the guy who was emailing me was the same person."
"And, like I'd predicted, you freaked out and left."
"And then you became depressed."
He didn't look impressed. "I became upset."
"Because I was the best thing that ever happened in your life and your celebrity status got in the way. So you cried and cried and cried as you lost contact with me."
He still didn't look amused. "Why does it have to sound like I'm such a wimp?"
I waved him off. "People love sob stories."
He rolled his eyes at me, his lips curled in distaste. "It's such a cliche story, even my little sister can come up with a way more believable story."
"You went along with it!"
"Only because we don't have anything else to work with," he said grumpily, his arms folded on the table. "So what happens next?"
"Well, I started to feel bad about it, and I guess I just loved you too much to let you go too," I said softly, my eyes falling onto the still half-full glass of coffee in front of me. I quickly took a gulp of it. "But I didn't know where to find you, except for all those magazines with your face slapped on them and your stupid commercials..."
"You could always email me, but the tables were turned. You're the coward and the depressed one." He smirked at my glare.
"After moping around about my departure, you finally decided to make things right."
"Right," he nodded slowly. "And how do I do that?"
"Ugh, I don't know. Let me think."
Silence fell between us, and for the first time ever, it wasn't filled with heated tension. It was just silence, where two people decided to keep their mouths shut in order for their brains to work properly. That kind of silence.
I bit my lip. "Obviously, you surprised me with something. 'Cause, you know, we're cliche like that."
"But how do I do that? Visiting your workplace seems too... I don't know. We don't need any more cliches."
"The press would eat us both alive," I agreed. "You have to do it in secret, where no one would find out. Because there's a chance that I wouldn't be okay with the sudden attention on me. After all, I was just an ordinary English teacher."
"And if I just showed up in your doorstep, I would just come off as creepy."
"As if you weren't creepy enough."
"Exactly."
After ten more minutes of silence, we both gave up. "Maybe we should just call it a day? We're nearly finished with it anyway. We can think more about it later."
"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed. "Should we... meet up again tomorrow?" he asked, unsurely.
My heart jumped because he did just offer to meet up again, but I shook my head. "Nah. I don't wanna get sick of seeing you again just yet."
At that, he snorted. "Good point."
"So..." I said awkwardly. "Good job today?"
Now he was snickering at me. "Good job, you too."
I just shook my head, holding in a smile that I so desperately wanted to let out. I seemed to be doing a lot of thisâtrying not to smile and stuffâand it was starting to hurt the muscles on my face.
I was so giddy, so insanely, unbelievably, completely and utterly happy because today, I just had the longest conversation with Jonah ever. Heck, this might have been the longest conversation he had ever had with anyone, so I really felt like I deserved a pat in the back.
"Can I have your number?" I blurted out, nearly slapping myself in the face by how blunt and forward I was being. I quickly added, "In case I need to talk to you about the project."
He raised his eyebrows, but nodded anyway. "Sure," he said. But he seemed to have had another thought before he recited his phone number. "On one condition, though," he asked.
I furrowed my eyebrows, confused by the sudden look of uneasiness on his face. It was as if he didn't want to ask me that one condition, but he had to anyway, and it was making him uncomfortable. "What is it?" I asked slowly.
"Can I... see your fingers?" he asked quietly.
I blinked, stunned, and then I slowly nodded. "Uh, sure?"
He waited expectantly, the awkward look still on his face, and I held out both of my hands, putting it down on the table. His eyes were intently studying on my fingers, and it was really weird to have his eyes on my... freaking fingers. Is it some kind of a kink? Is he secretly a weirdo?
"Can you hold them up?" he asked, and I obliged. "Keep your fingers apart. Turn them around a little." I did as told, turning my hands as if I was showing them off. After a while, he finally nodded. "Got it."
I immediately dropped my hands onto the table, my cheeks feeling warm as I shifted awkwardly in my chair. I was curiousâI mean, what was that?âbut I was too weirded out as it is that I just kept my mouth shut and didn't ask what it was all about.
Finally... he gave me his number.