#vickyxmelonlove

You just couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t sleep for the life of you. You’re tired,yes—sleep deprived, even—so you have no idea why your system won’t shut downlike it should, but you are reminded of the three cups of coffee you downedthroughout the day to keep you awake since you weren’t able to sleep properlythe night prior either.

You didn’t want it to become a habit, but you were for suregoing to drive yourself insane if you continue lying on your bed with nothingto do but keep staring at the most interesting ceiling in the world.

As soon as you sit up, you hear a slight grumble in yourstomach and you think, “Well, might as well make myself a snack at 3:25 in themorning.”

And so you get up, enter the kitchen and decide on bakingcookies. A sweet tooth always has time for cookies.

Turning on the television in the living room for minimalbackground noise, you begin assembling your ingredients—with your stockknowledge of ingredients as you’ve made many late night desserts in yourcollege career. You made sure the volume of the TV and your footsteps were atits lowest as your roommate is probably sleeping soundly in his bed at thishour. Sighing in jealousy, you continue grabbing a bowl and a whisk from thekitchen drawers and start your mini baking show on your own.

It’s not to say you’re not sleepy as you’ve counted fiveyawns in the middle of pouring and whisking certain ingredients into the bowlalready, it’s just that your body couldn’t fully get into sleep mode at all.You look at the door where your roommate resides in and wonder how he coulddoze off so easily. He had been a quiet one, Mark Tuan, but whenever you docatch each other in the apartment you both exchange polite greetings anyway.

It’s disappointing, really, as he’s actually your type—butthat’s all there is to it. He probably even dislikes you as a roommate seeingas he rarely comes out of his shell. Although you see him on campus from timeto time, your twitchy nerves act up and fail to greet him casually. Instead, ashe passes by you shrivel in place and the friends you’re with at the momentbegin to pretend you’re nothing but a stranger to them.

What supportive friends you have.

However, the times you do spot him outside, no girl insight is with him as he’s always squeezed in between his friends. It’s actuallyamusing to you how he’s the tiniest of them all—in terms of figure, as one ofthem, you believe, is the most athletic one—and so he looks too adorable to bea part of the group that girls your age swoon over.

At the same time, though, it’s what made you slowly fallfor the guy. His charm is in his smile whenever you see him a few secondsbefore he leaves the apartment; it’s in his laugh, a laugh so bubbly wheneverhis athletic friend cracks up one of his corny jokes; it’s in the way he movesso elegantly whenever you catch him lounging on the fields at your university’spark. These moments you so luckily glimpse at with your own eyes—and stillhaven’t seen a girl by his side.

You may still have a chance.

Yawning, you place the box of flour to the side afterpouring a good amount of it into the mixing bowl, and you’re about to grabanother cup of whatever it might be until you hear a door creak open. Youfreeze in your place, not knowing what to do as you see Mark come out of hisroom, sporting no shirt on and just his boxers.

He catches your stare, eyes widening in apparent surpriseof your presence. “Hey,” he mumbles first, sleep evident in his tone.

“Uh, hey—hi—good evening!” You stutter out loud, smackingyourself mentally. If you weren’t sleepy before, you’re sure wide awake now.

Mark approaches your station warily, peering his eyes atthe batter you’re creating. He looks at the TV playing some late night talkshow on screen and returns his gaze on your bowl. “It’s almost four. What’sthis?”

Blinking rapidly, you follow his gaze and think of a properresponse that wouldn’t make you sound like an odd individual snacking onhomemade treats in the middle of the night. Scratching the back of your neck,you utter softly, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought of baking cookies?” Mark responds, ateasing tone in his voice. You nod sheepishly as your eyes try to wander to hisshirtless chest, but you cough instead to disguise the growing pink tone onyour cheeks.

“You willing to share some?” He asks, unfazed by yourawkward movements. Your cheeks burn in thought, and you want to pinch yourselfold fashioned way to confirm you’re actually not dreaming right now.

You have never, in the six months you’ve lived under thesame roof, talked to this guy for more than ten minutes and now here he is,half naked and handsome, asking to have some of your cookies.

You’d give him more if he permitted.

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Will you still be awake when they’redone?” You answer nonchalantly—sort of, you think you squirmed a bit—and returnto adding the last few needed items for your batter. Mark nods and sits infront of you on the island counter, resting his head on his palms.

You can feel yourself sweating, and you’re nervous that itmight blend into your mix if you keep thinking about the man in front of you.But finally, your mix is done and you’re ready to scoop them into a bakingsheet.

“Hold on one second,” Mark abruptly says making you turn tohim with a curious expression, your eyes trying their hardest not to go downfurther. “What is it?”

“That’s salt, not sugar.”

“What?”

“What you just put into your mix,” Mark implies, pointingat the now empty cup to the side of the bowl. “Look at the container you tookit out from. That’s the salt.”

Approaching the object of interest, you inspect the boxwhose packaging label had been torn off. You dip a finger ever so slightly andtaste it on your tongue.

Shit. He’s right. And now you feel like an absolute fool.

Not only did you waste so much stuff—which you bought withyour hard earned cash, and it isn’t a lot considering your broke collegestudent aesthetic—but you did so right in front of the guy you’d been meaningto impress.

There goes your first and last attempt of trying to makeyourself look good in front of anyone attractive—let alone Mark freaking Tuan.

Mark laughs, and you swear you feel yourself shrinking tothe size of a pea, but he dismisses a hand and stands up. “You know what, it’sfine. I could just order pizza if you’re that hungry.”

You give him an incredulous look as your eyes shot open andyour mouth like a fish out of water. Was he really offering you free food?

“I’m still getting pizza even if you don’t want any,” headds and you shake your head to regain consciousness of the situation. “Sure, I’llhave some!”

Mark smiles at your response, motioning for you to followhim. “Sweet. Wanna hang in my room while we wait for it?” He gives the TVanother glance and shrugs. “Unless you want to watch shitty shows on the TV.”

Scoffing, you grab the remote from the counter and turn theTV off. “No, I think your company is much better,” you blurt out. Immediatelyregretting the bold move, you make it a mission to clean up the mess you’vemade in the kitchen, quickly excusing yourself, “But uh, I don’t want to invadeyour privacy or something.”

“We live in the same apartment. It’s time we actually getto know each other,” Mark simply explains, and you feel another wave of blushpassing through you. You sense his figure hovering behind you and your bodyfreezes in place as you see his hand grabbing the whisk from your side, hismouth dangerously close to your ear.

“Let me help you with that,” he whispers, and you swear he knows what he’s doing to you. Gulping,you nod your head and continue with cleaning up the place. When everything’s inplace, Mark shows a hand towards his room and you execute a little curtsy for adramatic effect. You hear his laugh, the laugh you’ve only witnessed him makeamong his friends, and you smile shyly to yourself.

“Are you going to put on any clothes, perhaps?” You findyourself asking, and Mark becomes suddenly aware of his half nakedness but hegives you a look you can’t resist. “Why? Would you want me to?”