Love Me, Please
24. Daaiang

The sound of knocking on the door again jolted me from sleep. This time, Mrs. Crane invited himself in. Mostly because he knew I was alone here. Ah, don't ask. Now I really don't know why I still call Lizza Crane with Mrs. Crane while I called her husband by first name.

"Non, there are guests" said the woman I should call Oma from behind my back.

I intend to reply to the statement of the woman who has contributed once about household affairs and perdapuran—is that even a word?—that with, "Tell Kayden if I still want to rest first, Bi". However, the out of the mouth is clenched with sleepiness is more like a rumble of people who stumble. "Wilung e Aydun olu oku masuh mou sstiruut ulu, Wi."

It's really not clear.

However, the experience of living for more than five years was not in vain. Mrs. Crane solved my conundrum. "The problem is this guest isn't Kayden, Non."

That got my attention. I looked at my people and looked at him. "Keep who?" ask me with eyes that are still a quarter closed.

"He said his name was Beckham."

My eyebrows immediately flew to the hairline. Whats? Mrs. Crane said what? Not likely. This must be just a trick of my brain still shrouded in fog. "Who did the aunt say?" investigate me with a clearer story.

"Beckham, No. I think the name of the ball player."

In fact, my hearing before this was not wrong. What in the actual hell?

****

Five minutes later I got out of the room and headed for the front door. Not caring about Kay's oversized t-shirt that I often wear to sleep and now has been filled with wrinkles, hair that is only carelessly squashed, and puffy eyes after sleep and crying. And, sure enough. There he is.

Thank God for the wisdom of Mrs. Crane's not on edge because he didn't tell this one "guest" to come in.

On the terrace already parked—I mean standing, forgive my mouth that is still a grudge against this creature— a wavy brunette boy, wearing black-framed tenement glasses. She was wearing a graphic design— t-shirtI don't know what the picture is in white color—, white, black, and blue dongker checkered shirt, and black jeans. His legs are covered with Converse Chuck which is also black.

I deliberately watched her from head to toe because watching her wriggle due to the discomfort I created caused an unexpected satisfaction. "Did you come here?" todongku at the end. The sooner the business with him is done the better. "Well where is my house from?"

"What kind of guy you doang can pay a school hacker?"

I straightened my eyes at her.

He shook his head and cursed in a very slow, almost inaudible voice, but of course I could still catch the hiss, then cleared my throat. "Gue just wants to send this," he said as he pulled something out from behind his back.

However, he held back my actions. "No, no, no. Waita! Plakai. I can use another one. It's an easy affair," he insisted, still pushing the thing closer to me.

A bitter gel jumped out of his mouth. "Yeah, easy. Please take that easy lo back to the part of hell where you came from!"

He cursed again. "It's not what I mean."

I ended the door-push action and crossed my arms around my chest. "Look, yeah. Los Angeles may be proud of your achievements and your brain, but what you and your mom and your fan library keeper did to me remains unacceptable. Who do you think you are, huh? Oh, but I don't have good grades, or just because I wear clothes that by your standards are not right to be taken to a place like a porous, or just because I wear clothes that are not by your standards, can you tell me I don't have a brain? Think I have no feelings?

"Originally you know, yes, the Smartest High School in California, yesterday I've tried not to be late again. I know my mistakes, and I want to fix them. I belain came to the perpus directly from school, out of cheers practice, so I did not have time to change clothes other than those in my locker. But, just get there? Ck." Unaware my breath was already breathing. Immediately I took one deep to calm myself down. I don't want to add to what's been piled up on my shoulders with this jerk's business together again. "Well, why am I so sure you are, huh? I, right, there is no debt of any explanation to you. I also said. Fxck you's. And I really meant it. Fxck you and now fxck off. I don't need your help."

No response came out of the mouth of the guy in front of me. The terrace was just covered in an awkward silence.

The sun shines with pride. The sky was clear from the stretch of clouds, there were only a few who dared to appear in the east direction there. The occasional wind blew, making the leaves of the palm tree sway. Same with the other plants in the yard. Same with the robot.

He stood up agitatedly. His right foot swung forward and backward, before being piled on the end of the shoe and tapped to the floor slowly several times. Then he cleared his throat. Once. Twice. "Sorry," he whispered. His voice still sounded hoarse even though he had cleared his throat repeatedly.

Wait, what? Didn't you hear wrong? What did he say just now? "Ngg, what, huh? You just talked? What the hell are you talking about? I didn't hear what came out of your mouth. Lo said what?"

He again mendeham, this time also coupled with wiping the palm to the jeans he wears. "I said I'm sorry," he repeated as fast as lightning.

Really magical this guy. Apologizing is like going to freefall from a plane without using a parachute. Obviously he was not used to these human things. "Did I hear wrong?" I can't bear to not tease him.

"Don't go fishing, deh. You won't get more than that" he said.

I chuckle. At this time my gelak still feels a bit bitter. "Lo think I want nothing from you, do you? I told you to go fxck your-oh so fxcking high-self, didn't I? And you yourself came to my house. Uninvited, not expected. So, is it still me wrong? Hoe? How high, anyway, your ego so usually just demeaning and blaming others? Wonder me."

He once again—ya Lord, still—cleans his throat. My guess is he hasn't used his vocal cords properly for too long, so there's too much spider web in there. Therefore he often mendeham. Yes, yes, it must be true. "Nikita, I'm sorry. I admit I was wrong and I shouldn't have Miss Vanessa judge you like that. I also want to apologize on behalf of Miss Vanessa as well."

A match of who was the longest to be silent began. While keeping my mouth shut and maintaining my anger, I still occasionally stole a glance at the guy who was still standing uncomfortably a few steps ahead. Damn it, he's really not. They rarely interact with humans. The same old friend of the devil in his head, anyway! That's why.

To be continued ....