Page 46 of Eyes Like Angel

Completely still, she hadn’t given an indication to let me know she’s interested. In fact, it felt like she was…clueless, stagnant in a way.

“Guess I’ll pick,” I said, pressing the buttons and checked the shows onNetflix. By then, I chose a movie for her, one that she might enjoy, hoping she might have the similar tastes as me.

The movie I picked wasKill Bill Pt.2. Smirking; I got myself a bowl of popcorn and munched on a buttery and spicy substance, and drink a cool beverage, one I hid from my strict mother. After a long day, watching a Quentin Tarantino film can do no wrong.

Mother is always so paranoid with one portion of sweetness or savory flavors. Luckily, I’m not her, nor is my dearest father, in a strict diet of scotch and office work.

Sometimes being young had its advantages, and being carefree and rebellious nature is one of them.

Until now, the way old people lived by the fantasies of their ridiculous standards against youth still baffled me in the worst possible way.

As I munched, I offered her the buttery popcorn and a flavored drink to share, but she refused, sat still like a waxed doll, refused to move and refused to accept. She’s a pretty doll, but it somehow freaked me out to bits when she wasn’t making any expressions on her youthful visage. She’s pretty, but I was afraid she might be a doll all along, so I kept on watching the scenes. Before I get a chance to communicate with her, she sat still, motionless, but her hands wavered, rubbing the small motions with her thumbs.

When a scene came on, my eyes fixated at hers, who was averting, held her runny nose in, coiling her hands harder.

I guess she didn’t like the film I set up.

So I changed it toTitanic. Titanic wasn’t the cup of my tea, but I heard girls loved Leonardo DiCaprio when he was young, what he was like in the film, and as it droned on, I checked on Eva’s reaction. She seemed relaxed. Her back pressed onto the couch cushions, and my shoulders sank in relief. At that moment she doesn’t resembled as a waxed doll from a museum. She’s prettier and her emerald eyes were glinting, flickered with life.

Three hours later, when the movie ended, I beheld her visage contorted, but in a quick second.

I stood up and stretched, asking, “So, what do you think? Do you like it?”

Then Eva, in a smallest motion, she indicated with her a nod.

“Good, I’m glad you like it. I’m surprised you haven’t seen this movie. It’s a classic. How come you’re not eating?”

She shook her head. “I ate already.”

“But you came here since this morning, and I haven’t seen you eaten anything, even I offered some popcorn,” I clocked her.

“I’m sorry,” she uttered in a softest tone, somehow it was shaky, but she hid it well, almost too well. “But I don’t want to eat.”

My heart saddened at her reply. I sat down beside her and said, “You can trust me. I won’t tell a soul.”

She angled her face, studying me, long enough to process whether she chooses to trust me.

“I don’t wish to bother anyone,” she uttered again.

As cautious as I could be, I took her hand, but before that I asked for her consent, based on the little flinch on her shoulders. It took a moment for her to nod before touching hers. “Whatever it is that you do or say, I want you to say it freely. I know it might be strange for you. But everything we do is normal. I want you to relax and place your trust on me.”

She watched me carefully, weighing on my words.

I sighed. “It’ll take time. Don’t be a stranger around me. If you mess up something, I’ll make an excuse for my mom to get off of your back, like how I did earlier.”

She watched me, and watched me, until I decided to say a final advice.

“Tell you what, each time you come here, I’ll pick a movie for us to watch and we’ll experiment everything, see what you like, see what you hate, and let me know. Don’t be afraid to share your opinions. I can’t stand the extreme silence from you, so, I want you to be opinionated when you’re around me. Got it?”

Finally, she nodded. “Got it, sir.”

I shook my head at the word ‘sir’. “Don’t call me that. Just call me Adrian. ‘Sir’ makes me feel old,” I reminded her, half-jokingly.

She nodded again.

I propped my elbow on the couch frame. “If it’s okay, do you mind if I call you Eva? I’ll call you by your name when it’s just the two of us. I promise I won’t embarrass or humiliate you in front of everyone.”

She took into a consideration before she said, “You may.”