She hangs up. Clara's not gonna like that question, is she? Would she be angry if I even asked?
Or perhaps I should just give it a chance? Even in friendship, it would be nice to have her there. The worst she can say is no.
I look to my hand where I had made the amare flower. It has already turned into dried up petals.
I draw a sharp breath. It's better not to get my hopes up.
I go into the apartment quietly. I should leave Clara to sleep. I just need to check to see if I have everything and get my shoes.
"You can stop tiptoeing," she grunts from her bed. "I'm still awake."
I quit tiptoeing and walk to her sitting up on her bed. "I’m so sorry I slept over. I should be gone to let you sleep."
"I don't mind that you slept over,” she shrugs. “I trust you enough.”
“Seriously? First you don't mind me seeing you in your underwear, and now you're letting me sleep in your bed?” I fold my arms. “How different are your social norms in Lluvia?”
“It's not.” She scowls. “I don't just let any random man sleep in my bed. I just trustyou. You're kind and respect me.” Her gaze softens. “You can stay if you like. I enjoy your company.”
My cheeks warm. “Do you really trust me that much?” That's a big privilege she's giving me.
“Yes,” She looks to her blankets. “That phone call woke me up, and now I can't go back to sleep."
"Maybe try for longer than just sixty seconds.”
"Well now my stomach’s growling. I can't sleep well hungry." She frowns. "I don't think I have any more food to just heat up."
I check her fridge and sure enough, after scouring through, no leftovers or anything we can just pop in the microwave.
"I guess we have to cook," I sigh. Nothing is open at morning three. "I’ll go down and make you something."
"If you are going, I want to help," she grins deviously. “What are we making?"
"What do you want to make?"
She pauses, giving a slow nod with her lips twisted. "Bread."
I scrunch my nose. “It’s too early in the morning for that! It's a long process!"
"I never thought it was. It would be fun if we could make it into a competition to see who makes the best bread."
"But it's still three…" Looking into her eyes, my words drift. Her excitement shines through, almost like she had the best nap of her life. I love making bread, but with only five hours of sleep?
She gets up from the bed and walks towards the door. "Come on!"
"Hang on." It feels wrong to walk out having only just rolled out of bed.
I go to the bathroom and turn on the light. The gold framed mirror reflects my messy hair and puffy eye.
Hm. Something about this doesn't feel right.
I lean in closer to the mirror. Searching for the odd yet subtle difference. It takes a moment for me to find it, but once I widen my eyes, I spot the difference.
My irises.
They're completely blue. A very vibrant blue. Abnormally bright.
I furrow my brows. I could've swore that my eyes were a little dull. They’re definitely blue but not this shade.
