What's for Breakfast?

Nine: Without a Man

He keeps his word when he says we should forget it happened. Derek doesn't give a single hint to draw the conversation to what had occurred. He serves breakfast, and we talk normally. I seek any sign of hypocrisy; I'm happy when I don't find any.

Despite his childish stunts sometimes, Derek has truly matured, though I'm unsure if he's still dating recklessly. Not that it concerns me. It doesn't. I'm only curious.

Moving on, Patrick is flying back tomorrow. He's going to come over to pick up a few of his things before heading to Candice's. Meanwhile, I am taking a sick day since I'm having really bad dysmenorrhea--one of the many, many things why I dislike being a woman.

Plus, I didn't get enough sleep. What transpired at 1 AM kept me awake until dawn.

I need to be in my most comfortable clothes for the day, so I slip into my baggy sweatpants and a loose white sweater. I tie my hair in a bun to keep my hair out of my face. I should probably cut it short. Like a pixie cut. I have a pretty small face, maybe it'll work?

Bea calls me that afternoon while I'm sketching.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask, wedging the phone between my neck and shoulder to continue my work.

"Hey, Sam. I have news for you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"There's this architect my sister works with, and he's looking for an interior designer. I wanted to give this project to Cathy because of how busy you are, but she said I must pass it to you instead."

"Really? Cathy didn't want it?"

"No..." she mumbles. Huh. Cathy would never say no to opportunities.

"Okay. That's odd."

"This architect is familiar to you. He knows you."

"Really? Who's he?" I ask.

"Don't be mad at me, please," she whispers with a hint of excitement. I cease working. 'Don't be mad at me' is usually followed by an infuriating statement. It's like when someone says "no offense meant" and it always ends up being offensive.

I take my phone from my shoulder and lean in my chair, my back feeling less tense. I've been working for a while now.

"When people say that, it means there's something to be angry about. What is it?"

"Well... This architect... It's Kurt."

The mere mention of his name renders me speechless.

Kurt and I had a brief three-month fling during my second year of university. He asked me out after we were paired up for a minor project, and I agreed because he was attractive and intelligent. We studied together, worked on projects together, and he even introduced me to his sister.

But we weren't official. We didn't talk about putting a label on our relationship, and now that it comes to mind, it was my fault that I never had a 'boyfriend.'

Things went well with Kurt—at least that was what I believed.

One day, while we were out for lunch, he told me he wanted to stop what was going on between us. He said school requirements were toxic, and he needed more time for his academics. He didn't want any distractions since he had to maintain his grades for his scholarship. He was also running for honors.

But I was running for honors as well. That was why our dates usually turned out to be study dates. Both of us didn't like wasting our time. We were partners--a great team, so why did he need to go?

After we 'broke up', Kurt never talked to me again, and he became my first real heartbreak. Like a fool, I tried to be friends, so I made an effort to reach out to him. Yet, he completely erased me from his life.