Chapter 19: Calculated Kindness

< Shirley >
We continued walking under the moonlight, my heart filled with warmth after hearing Dylan's analogy about thanking and apology.
"That's very nice of you." I gave Dylan a small warm smile. He stared at me for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to the moon.
"I guess," he muttered bashfully.
Hearing him say all these kinda made me feel bad for all the things I did to him. There was a sinking feeling in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled quietly. I could feel his gaze on me, yet I kept my eyes down, afraid to meet his intent gaze. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for asking you insensitive questions. I'm sorry for throwing your phone in the dustbin. I'm sorry for not being there on time to defend you when the officer tried to blame you. I'm sorry—"
"That's enough." I finally looked up to meet his grey eyes with my blue ones. "I have forgotten all about it, and if you're genuinely feeling sorry, I understand. You don't have to apologize anymore." His words were sweet, but the soft vague emotions that his eyes held made it irresistible to avert my gaze. It was as if his cold facade was coming undone under the glistening moonlight, and I liked this side of him.
All of a sudden, something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes and he shifted his eyes back to the moon. My cheeks grew hot, becoming more evident due to the chilly air.
To remove the weird tension from the air, I blurted out, "It's very cold tonight, huh."
"Fancy coming from someone who is only wearing a light t-shirt," he retorted.
There he was again. Dylan Sarcastic Lewiston.
"It's not like I had a choice," I sulked. My eyes traveled to his hoodie. It looked so warm and comforting. Also, Dylan's intoxicating scent would be all over it. How tempting!
"In a situation like this, a gentleman would give his jacket to a girl," I said, trying my best to keep my grin at bay.
"Well, you see, the weather doesn't differentiate between genders." My eyes widened at his blunt ungentlemanlike words. "Also, I never claimed to be a gentleman."
I gaped at him. Why did he have to burst my bubble like that? All I wanted was his hoodie. Was it too much to ask for? God, it was so unfair—
My thoughts were interrupted as Dylan slipped a hand through my waist and pulled me into a corner of a dark alleyway. I tried to scream but it was muffled by his hand.
"Stay quiet," Dylan whispered to me, his eyes fixated on my left direction.
I stopped squirming and just took in the position we were in as I felt a blush creeping onto my cheeks. His body was lightly pressed against mine, our chests almost touching, one of his hands over my mouth, another on my waist, and his warm breath was falling on my nose.
If there was any coldness I was feeling earlier, it wasn't there anymore. The heat radiating off of his body warmed me in more than one way. His closeness to me was almost intoxicating.
"I lost the target..." I heard a low voice coming from my left which I couldn't care less about. My focus was on the man standing right in front of me, so close.
His jaw was clenched, his breaths shallow. His grip on my waist was tight, almost bruising. And if he put more force into his other hand, I wouldn't be surprised if he choked me. Even so, I had my mind fogged by his cologne, too dazed to think rationally.
I let myself enjoy our closeness, knowing I would want to bang my head on the wall later on.
It wasn't until his gaze landed on me that he stepped back. I instantly missed his warmth.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Dylan said, standing a foot away from me now.
"No, it's fine." I tried not to sound disappointed. "What happened?" I asked.
"Someone was following you," he said in a hushed voice.
My ears perked up at the mention of that. It could be Mr. Creepy Stalker or his men. "Who? Did you see his face? Do you know him? How does he look—" Dylan pressed his index finger on my lips.
"Lower your voice. He might hear you," he whispered. I don't know if it was my imagination or not, but his eyes lingered on my lips briefly before he removed his finger from there. "Let's go. He must have left by now." He took a hold of my wrist and guided me out of that alley, not before peeking at the main street.
Once we were back to walking on the street, I again asked, "Are you sure that person was following me?"
"Yeah, I started feeling watched from the moment you started accompanying me," he replied.
"Oh," was all I said. I hated it whenever I was reminded of that stalker; it scared me.
Since I lost my will to speak anymore, we both fell into a synced silence, just walking ahead as the moonlight enlightened our path. It wasn't awkward, rather calming and soothing.
"Well, this is my stop," Dylan said once we were in front of a tall building. "Will you be able to get back on your own?"
I hummed and responded, "I can use the GPS to get back to the hospital."
"What about your food? I thought you were going to grab something to eat."
"No café is open at this time." I chuckled. "But don't worry, I'll eat something in the morning." I waved dismissively.
Dylan kept his gaze low as he opened and closed his mouth to say something. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke up with uncertainty, "Um, I can make something for you." For a moment, I thought my ears were ringing for sure. "If you want, that is," he quickly added, which confirmed my doubts.
My ears weren't playing tricks with me, rather Dylan was actually offering to cook for me. I had a sudden urge to pump my fist in the air while screaming victory but resisted doing so.
"If it's not too much trouble," I said politely.
He didn't reply and continued walking in the building. Pulling a huge smile on my lips, I followed him like a lost puppy. We got in the elevator, and he pressed the topmost floor, which was the thirty-seventh floor.
It was a long painful silence until we reached the destined floor. I realized it was a penthouse of his, and it was beautiful. Everyone was decorated perfectly. But the first thing my eyes caught was the bunch of car keys on top of the shoe cabinet. As a fellow car racer, it intrigued me. I couldn't be sure that I wasn't drooling over them. If only I could steal one of them from him.
"Don't even think about stealing any of my car keys," Dylan warned.
I grinned sheepishly and started taking my heels. That's when I got aware of how painful they were. My feet felt in heaven when they touched the floor flat. For a few seconds, I just let my feet feel the coldness of the tiled floor until Dylan motioned at the shoe cabinet to take out a pair of slippers.
Smiling widely, I followed him into the kitchen. As he started rummaging through the refrigerator, I asked, "You can cook."
"Otherwise I wouldn't have offered to make something for you," he replied. "In case you want burned-out food, it's fine. I can make some for you."
"No, edible food is already enough, I suppose," I responded. I looked around the organized kitchen until my eyes fell on him as he tried to chop some vegetables. "What are you making?"
He smirked and said evilly, "Noodles."
"Seriously just noodles?"
"What, did you expect me to make a three-course meal for you?" he derided.
"Not exactly, but..." I trailed off, not knowing what exactly to say.
"Well, beggars don't get to be choosers, so suck it up," he conceded.
I shrugged my shoulders and tried to strike up a bit more normal conversation with him. Like asking him what his favorite color was, what he liked to do in his rare free time, and other silly questions.
To be honest, it was actually fun talking to him. Yeah, he would throw in occasional sarcastic comments at me. Still, I enjoyed his company. It all felt like one step closer to him.
Now that I think about it, I might not mind his demeaning attitude all that much anymore. Because that's just who Dylan was, and I had to accept it. Although, it would be nice if he could change that behavior someday.
At last, his cooking was done. And boy, did the noodles look tasty. Thank God, it wasn't just some crappy, slurry instant noodles.
Dylan handed me the bowl with a fork and sat on the kitchen bar stool with his own set, right beside me.
"It looks yummy," I complimented.
"It is." He rolled his eyes.
"You're way too confident in your cooking," I relented, and he snickered, already starting to eat his portion.
Once I tasted it, his confidence started to make sense. Because it was damn good.
"It's so good," I said. "Thank you so much for doing all this for me."
"No, it's not for you. It's just compensation," he blurted out.
"Compensation for what?" I whipped my head at him.
Dylan fiddled with his fork and stuttered out, "N-nothing. I guess I just-I just kinda feel bad for, um, you know, that guy-your friend, I mean, got hurt. Uh, you told me to protect him, and I couldn't. Ugh. Never mind. I'm being stupid."
My jaw fell open in surprise. Dylan actually felt bad about what happened?
It's no wonder he was being kinder than usual. Stupid me.
"It wasn't your fault. No need to be guilty," I tried to assure him.
He gave me a pointed look and said, "Who is guilty? Me? Not a chance."
"But you just—"
"You gave me a task to do, I couldn't do it. That's what I feel about. Nothing more, nothing less." With that, he picked his empty bowl and dumped it into the sink, whereas I was dumbfounded.
Obviously, what did you expect? He just doesn't care about anybody. It's only his ethics that matter to him, reminded my subconscious.
I didn't say a word after that. I was really dumb. I shouldn't be expecting any kindness from him, other than when it's not business. Everything he did was calculated.
When I was done with my meal, I thanked him quietly and was about to leave.
"Wait a minute," Dylan called out just when I was about to step into the elevator. He shoved a jacket in my hands and mumbled hurriedly, "It's going to get colder tonight." And my brain short-circuited.
I looked at the jacket then back at him. I repeated it until my brain was stable enough to form coherent words. "Uh, thank you."
"And yeah, it's not safe for you to walk back to the hospital right now. One of my guards can drive you there if you would want." As he offered that, his gaze refused to meet mine.
If Dylan was trying to make my brain dysfunctional again and again, then he was quite successful. Because my brain was dead, and my heart was twisting in a different sort of way.
I simply nodded.
"Um, okay, I'm going to sleep now. Bye. Be careful on your way," Dylan said before retreating to his place.
I knew it was a small gesture of his, but it was thoughtful. Coming from Dylan, it was almost too good to be true. I couldn't help the smile bloomed on my face afterward as I wondered about him.
Was all of his kindness really all that calculated?
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