Mr.Right

Winter is here.

The droplets of snow cascading outside confirms it, as I rub my freezing hands together and tuck them back in the pockets of my hoodie.

Winter used to be my favorite season of the year, mainly because of the Christmas cookies Mom and Grandma bake, and I also get to see my cousins when they come over for the holiday. We make huge snowmen out of the snow in our front yard.

The holiday decorations were also a bonus. We were referred to as the 'Clark Griswold' of the neighborhood because of the extreme way in which Mom covers the whole house with Christmas lights to 'catch the spirit of the Christmas season'.

I never thought I'd see the day where Winter is traumatic for me. The Christmas wind no longer sounds like music in my ears and the joy that once filled my mouth now tastes like ashes.

I

Tossing the sheet which covers the lower part of my body away, I hug myself as I walk towards the door. I'm curious about what Maverick is doing right now. I feel bad about ignoring him for half of the week. I should at least be on good terms with the person I'm living with. I definitely shouldn't not be acting like I'm brain-dead anytime he's five inches away.

I peer through the door, wondering if he's out there and, sure enough, he is.

He's sitting on the stairs with a bottle of Corona in his hand and his head is bent. He shifts slightly to take a sip of his beer and I notice his muscles moving through the yellow sweatshirt he has on. "You can't sleep either?" he calls out, without even turning his head, so I come out from the shadows and walk towards him.

"How did you know I was back there? I never made a sound," I say and sit next to him on the stairs.

"You were breathing too loudly." He takes an unopened beer from beside him and hands it to me. "Beer?"

I take the beer gratefully and open it, tilting it upwards to let the cool liquid enter my mouth. I lick my lips and his gaze follows the action.

"Have you heard from your brother yet?" I ask eventually.

"No, actually. He hung up on me yesterday and said something about having a booty call," He glances at me when I laugh at that. "I wonder how we're related, but have nothing in common." "You do have things in common," I insist, taking another swig of beer. "You're just older, that's all."

"Excuse me? Did you just call me old?" He feigns shock. "I'm not even three years older than you, thank you very much."

"All right, all right!" I grin mischievously. "Grandpa Maverick."

Maverick scoffs and drinks some more beer too. "But isn't this cheating?" he says, after a pause.

"What is?"

"I mean, you know I own a hospital and an obnoxious step-brother but I only get to know your name. I literally don't know anything else about you, April White."

I shift uncomfortably and bring the beer to my lips. What am I supposed to say? I got fired from my job weeks ago because of some silly mistake, and now I'm trying to handle my depression in the hope I'll be able to get a new one?

Yeah, I'm not telling him that. I'll definitely look more stupid than the time Tony tried doing a backflip and it went horribly wrong.

Tony...

"You met my ex the other day. He's now a patient in your hospital," I say, before realising it came out much harsher than I intended it to.

I see Maverick's jaw lock at the mention of Tony and can tell he's remembering the club night.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I got you in trouble and acted like it didn't matter," I say as he waves it off with a hand.

"No need to worry about that. He punched like a girl anyway."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Really? Your nose ended up bleeding. He can't have punched that badly."

"I'm trying to look cool here. Don't ruin this for me."

I try to grin at him but instead, it comes out in a sad smile.

I'm more than happy he doesn't ask me about Tony again. Instead, he lets it be.

We sit together in silence but, surprisingly, it's not an awkward one and I wrap the silence around me like a duvet, feeling it fill some of the emptiness inside.

My thoughts these past days are too messed-up and it's nice to have a moment where I'm not crying, just so I can sort through them a bit.

All I want to do is be left alone. And Maverick is doing fine at that.

In fact, he looks like he feels the same way.

"Hey, don't frown," he tells me suddenly, noticing my expression. He opens another beer. "You never know who could be falling in love with your smile."

I catch his gaze and I must have imagined it but there's this spark of worry in his eyes. He's not telling me that Tony's a douchebag, he's not telling me I'm dumb for running all the way to the hospital because o the said douchebag...

He's actually smiling and, in this single moment, I am able to forget all my worries in the world.

I wake the next morning to beams of sunlight and the loud chirping of birds creeping into my room. My head feels so light that I can barely feel it.

I wonder how many beers I had last night.

I toss and turn, then catch a glimpse of a cup, resting on my nightstand with a note glued to it. I ease out of bed and tear the note off the cup, bringing it to my face to read what's written on it.

You had too much to drink last night so I made a home remedy for hangovers.

PS: You sleep like a baby

*baby dragon!

Don't breathe fire on me, will you?

- Maverick.

I roll my eyes but a faint grin manages to break over my face.

The lights in the living room are turned on today, but I know Maverick won't be home, so I make my way to the kitchen, suddenly feeling hungry.

There are two covered dishes on the counter with another note glued next to them, reading:

Wasn't sure which breakfast you'd like so I made two.

-M

What's better than waking up in the morning to two different dishes ready-made for you? ...Eating both of them at once, that's what!

The enticing aroma of Lasagne fills my nose when I open the first dish. The second dish contains a freshly-baked pie and I drool at the sight.

Is he a doctor and a chef in one body? I can hardly make ramen, let alone lasagna. That's probably why I'm always out at various restaurants.

Picking up a fork, I spear a pice of pie on the end of it and lift it into my mouth, moaning with delight at the sweetness that seeps over my tongue. Even Mom doesn't make such amazing pies.

My phone vibrates on the counter as Jim's name appears on the caller ID.

"Let's go on a date," Jim says immediately as I press the phone to my ears.

"Uh... What type of weed are you high on, exactly?"

But Jim isn't deterred. "No, April. I'm serious. Jacqueline wants us to go on a date."

My brows furrow even more. "What type of weed is she high on, then?"

"It's not what you're thinking." I hear the honking of a car in the background and then country music playing softly. "She's taking the first flight back to France tomorrow and she wants the three of us to hang out at the fun-fair this evening."

"So you want me to be the third wheel?"

"You're not third-wheeling," Jim says, sighing on the other end of the line. "It's just going to be you, tagging along with us."

" 'It's just going to be you tagging along with us"?" I mimic. "Are you even listening to yourself, Jim?"

"No, actually. These honking cars are quite deafening..." There's a muffled pause and I picture Jim looking around him, surrounded by cars. "But, look, you could still bring someone along, if you don't want to feel left out."

"You're the only friend I've got, Jim, as you know fully-well." I play with my pie using the fork.

"How about Doctor Stranger?"

"Doctor Stranger? Have you been watching Korean dramas?"

"That's not the point."

I sigh and fork another piece of pie into my mouth, knowing perfectly well who he's talking about. "I don't know, man. Maverick might have work."

"That reminds me." The screeching of car tyres fills my ears and then everywhere is quiet again. "How have things been at his house?"

I wish I had an appropriate answer to that. I really don't want to tell him about the sleepless nights, about being cooped up in my room the whole week, or about me wrapping myself under duvets like a human burrito.

He has done too much for me already. I can't burden him even more. So I force myself to smile, even if he can't see me through the phone.

"What do you think, Jimmy Lance Thomas?"

"Still not my middle name." I can picture him having a funny look on his face, judging by the tone of his voice. "I have a feeling you kept your distance from him this week. And the distance was probably longer than the Great Wall of China."

"You know me too well."

"I do, April. I really do. Anyway, I have a case in five minutes, so I can't talk. I'll meet you at the fair by Six."

"Wait, I didn't say I'd even come to the-" But the line at the other end goes dead and the food in my mouth turns sour.

I eye the silver clock on the wall. It now reads '11:35'.

There's less than seven hours until the festival.

Stepping out of the house today wasn't on my to-do list, but I guess sometimes you have to move out of your comfort zone to make the people you love happy.

Usually, my to-do list would look like this:

Eat.

Netflix.

Netflix.

More Netflix.

Eat.

Sleep. A lot of sleep.

So I guess that changing one of my many 'Netflix' sessions to 'festival' wouldn't be too much of a big deal. I mean, it's not like I have anything else to do. I actually miss the freshness of the city's air on my face and the feeling of freedom that comes with it.

What would be much more of a big deal, however, is asking Maverick to come with me.

I'd hardly said five sentences to him before last night and now, all of a sudden, I'm asking him out to something like a double date.

I'll be fine with just Jim and Jacqueline. It's not like they'll start eating each other's faces in public. And they're my friends, so I'll have fun and they'll be good company.

They'll make me laugh until snot comes out of my nose, and-

My phone rings.

"Hello, this is Maverick speaking." A man's voice fills my ears when I pick up an unknown number. "I'll be coming back from work earlier because Jim wants us to hang out. It sounded like a double date."

I sigh and put the phone down. Friends can also annoy the shit out of you.

Typical Jim.000☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐