While biting my lip, I watched Stephanie's car drive away. With stealthy movements and quiet steps, I swiftly entered after unlocking the gate. Reassuring myself with the thought that Aunt Amanda, Tamer, and Jayson were not yet home, I proceeded.
Just as I felt confident that I had evaded any trouble and was in the clear, the dim light in the living room abruptly transformed into a bright white, illuminating everything around me. "Just as I suspected," Aunt Amanda's commanding voice resonated. Well, that's that. I was caught.
I stood frozen in place, a wave of heaviness and anxiety washing over me, causing my heart to race at an alarming pace. I despised this sensation, knowing it would bring trouble and leave me unsettled for days, if not weeks.
The idea of fleeing, avoiding facing Aunt, and simply retreating to my comfortable bed, cocooned in my soft blanket, crossed my mind. However, I doubted my ability to do so. "Where have you been, young lady?" Aunt interjected, causing me to slowly turn to face her.
She was now clad in her pajamas, indicating she had been home for some time—I presumed. My tongue seemed to be tied up, as much as I wanted to respond and the words lingered on the tip of my tongue, I couldn't seem to articulate them. "I am—I've been—uh—"
"Don't even attempt to lie to my face, Maria. I detest deceit," she declared, lifting her eyebrows in a manner that exuded authority. Hearing her refer to me as Maria wasn't a positive sign. She often called me by that name when she was angry or displeased with my actions.
I attempted to smile at her, hoping to alleviate the tension, but her expression remained stern, unaffected by my gesture. "I attended the concert, Aunt," I responded.
There was no benefit in continuing to lie. Deception would only escalate the trouble on my end, and I wanted to avoid that. Being honest might offer some redemption, you know.
"You sneaky little rat," she uttered almost in a whisper. I blinked twice, unsure if she was angry with me or not. Her voice, while soft and clear, carried a hint of reprimand. "I explicitly instructed you not to go. What part of that did you not understand?"
"I'm sorry," I began to explain. "I—I didn't intend to go, but—"
"Oh, reasons again, my dear? You know I detest hearing excuses," she interjected, silencing me momentarily. I was truly in trouble.
Despite my reluctance, I didn't want Auntie to be upset with me. The last time she was, I was confined to my room without access to my phone, laptop, or guitar. In short, I was grounded for weeks.
Without uttering another word, I bowed my head in silence. "I'm sorry, Auntie. It won't happen again."
"Of course, it won't! I won't allow it," she asserted firmly, causing my lips to tighten into a straight line. "Luckily for you, I am in a good mood tonight," her tone suddenly shifted, leaving me momentarily surprised.
I gazed at her as she elegantly made her way to the plush sofa, settling in comfortably. Picking up a wine glass that I hadn't noticed earlier, she took a sip with a wide grin on her lips.
Confusion clouded my thoughts. What had just transpired?
"Don't just stand there staring, get moving and prepare me some pasta."
"Huh?"
Her eyebrows furrowed as she directed her gaze back at me. "Pasta! I want pasta," she repeated in a serious tone, prompting me to nod rapidly and head quickly to the kitchen. What was with her? Pasta? At this hour? Well, it was certainly a better alternative to being confined to either my room or the basement again.
Time slipped away as I spent nearly thirty minutes cooking the pasta and sauce. The task was draining and monotonous, evident from the numerous times I yawned while stirring the pan before me. The chill from the air conditioning didn't help either — it only intensified my desire to sleep.
It was already 1:25 a.m., the wee hours of the morning, and exhaustion clung to me from my shift at the diner until my recent return home. Clad in a sleeveless white top and pants, my hoodie lay discarded due to the prior sweating, and my hair was now securely tied up.
"Why are you cooking at this late hour?" a sudden voice pierced through the room, causing me to swiftly turn towards its source. "It's 1:30 in the morning," he added, glancing at the wall clock above the refrigerator as he approached the sink near where I stood.
I hadn't noticed their arrival nor heard any sounds outside while focused on cooking. Had I drifted off? It didn't seem likely.
"Your mom requested pasta," I replied matter-of-factly but softly.
Jayson furrowed his brow as he reached for a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. Turning my attention back to the sauce, I switched off the stove. I am done in here.
"She's asleep," he informed me, causing me to stare at him in disbelief. "What?" was all I could manage to say, but he simply shrugged. "She finished the bottle, got drunk, and dozed off," he calmly explained.
What on earth?
"Seriously?" I mumbled, a sense of exhaustion creeping into my voice. I felt completely drained, though I wasn't sure if it was evident.
“Why are you still up at this hour?” Jayson asked again, making me nervously bite my lip. Giving him the details about the concert wasn't necessary. "I've got a lot on my plate aside from sleep," I explained as I untied my hair, letting it fall freely.
I noticed him clearing his throat, and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He placed the glass in the sink before calmly washing his hands and face. I silently acknowledged Jayson's natural charm; compared to Tamer, he exuded a more mature and responsible aura. It was common knowledge that many girls sought my friendship once they discovered I was his stepsister. Despite his good looks, Jayson could be bothersome at times. “Stop staring,” he reproached me, causing me to quickly look away.
I denied staring, even though I probably was. “I'm not fixating on you—I'm focused on the dishes. Can you please move so I can clean them?” I requested, mixing some truth and a bit of deception. He wouldn't discern the difference. “Aren't you tired? Go get some rest,” I suggested, causing his expression to shift.
“I ran into your best friend earlier,” he suddenly mentioned, bringing up Steph as he leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed. “She looked stunning in that outfit, I must say.”
His comment caught my attention. “Yeah? Just don't even go there,” I cautioned him firmly, meeting his gaze with a serious look. I could sense his amusement in his eyes. By my words, I subtly conveyed my intentions. He wasn't naive; he was known as a charismatic guy who had never been caught in his ways.
He chuckled, prompting a frown from me. After shaking his head, he stood still. “Well, I can't guarantee that,” he responded, frustrating me. His intense stare made me uncomfortable. What was he up to?
“Were you out with her?” he suddenly inquired, causing me to shift my position.
“Auntie didn't allow me to go,” I calmly replied.
“Then, why do you still have your shoes on?” his brows furrowed. Glancing down, I realized he was right—I had forgotten to remove my shoes. Oh, come on! I was trying to bend the truth a bit. “I'm not. It's just... chilly, alright,” I quickly explained.
"Yeah?" he chuckled, followed by a sigh. "Sure," he added. I furrowed my brow and turned to face him again, noticing his struggle to contain a smile. It was a departure from his usual demeanor; he rarely displayed any hint of amusement when I was around.
Upon reflection, this marked our first informal conversation.
"You're actually talking to me," I observed.
"What, am I not allowed to?" he retorted with a question, prompting me to shake my head. "No, that's not what I meant," I clarified promptly.
He raked his hand through his hair and started walking away. As he exited the kitchen, I watched him leave, meeting his gaze when he suddenly glanced back. "Get some rest now, Aya. You look worn out," he advised before vanishing from my sight, leaving me to contemplate his unexpected change in behavior.
After thoroughly cleaning the kitchen and refrigerating the uneaten pasta, I made my way to my room and locked the door. Flopping onto my bed, I closed my eyes in hopes of finding some rest. However, despite my weariness, sleep evaded me. As the dim light from the uncovered lampshade grew fainter, my eyes remained wide open, unable to succumb to slumber.
At 2:15 a.m., I found myself still wide awake. The thought of no classes the following day brought some relief; the last thing I wanted was to show up in class looking like a zombie.
“Shoji.”
“Shoji Kotoo, that's my name.”
His name echoed in my thoughts, lingering unexpectedly. I shut my eyes tightly, then reached for my phone on the nightstand and unlocked it. Intrigued, I searched for his name on my social media profiles.
“He's a student at UPH,” I murmured to myself while browsing through his profile that surfaced in the search results. His social media presence offered little insight, mainly featuring tagged posts.
UPH wasn't too far from OLP, my campus. Despite the close proximity, I doubted any future chance of encounters with him unless he frequented or transferred to our campus . However, the likelihood of that happening seemed slim.
With that, I concluded my perusal of his online presence. Our brief meeting had only revealed his name, leaving the connection at just that.
I appreciated the brief encounter and the brief visibility he granted me, though.
“Shoji Kotoo.”