part 2
“Ah.” It was the best reaction he could come up with, faced with a present that rivaled his in intensity. Hiro, the only other Japanese honors student at the university, had to be the lucky guy with Tomoyo as his secret Valentine. An enormous, themed basket stood in the mailroom, with his name in her poorly disguised handwriting.
Eriol tried not to glare daggers at the popular, smart, intelligent, violin player as he walked out. Afterall, the poor boy was blushing. Like a lobster.
“Isn’t that so adorable?” Tomoyo asked him, sifting through her mail.
He felt himself start to blush, but it wasn’t from embarrassment.
~
There was something highly satisfying about crossing off lists. As it stood, his list consisted of one item-‘Flowers’-with one large slash. He carefully added ‘Baking,’ grabbing his apron as he did so.
Four hours later, his table filled to the brim with various baked goods, the thought crossed his mind that his thought might not be equally reciprocated.
That was an old Eriol thought, he reminded himself sternly. New Eriol wasn’t afraid of rejection.
No, he was terrified of it.
What else explained his constant tiptoe-on-edge demeanor around her? Somewhere in their enormously complicated dynamic, she had become the forward, engaging one, and he’d become the passive follower. Not that he minded-no, not one bit.
Sometimes, he’d daydream about telling her. Sitting in the back of class, he’d drift off, imagining all the possible scenarios in which he would confess.
They all Ended Badly.
“Ah, look, Eriol’s chickening out again! How cute!”
Ruby’s voice filtered through his musings, persistent and annoying.
“He just thinks and thinks and never does anything!”
Groaning, he put his head in his hands. Why Tomoyo?
~
“I’m so sorry, Eriol. The note’s funny, though.”
Eriol frowned good-naturedly. His secret Valentine, apparently of the last-minute sect, had bought him a lovely school water bottle still in the blue plastic bag. As Tomoyo had said, however, the note was…well…slightly tiring, to say the truth. Eriol had had his share of anonymous love notes, and the idea of publicly having to acknowledge the receipt of these at the upcoming party wasn’t very appealing. “Can’t you at least tell me who it is?”
“Nope!” Tomoyo grinned devilishly. “Although if you mistreat her, I might have to kill you.”
“Lovely. I’ll be on my best behavior. What about you?”
“Nothing so far. Let’s hope it’s not an allergic nightmare. The smell in my apartment was nauseating yesterday. I took around a hundred aspirin before going to bed.”
Nice going. “Is it still bad?”
“Actually, it smells nice now. I wouldn’t go through all that hassle, but-oh.”
After having spent half the night working on the basket in which all the food had gone, he hadn’t quite taken the time to sit back and appreciate the entire…aesthetic. Then again, a brown paper sack would have done fine, too. It was slightly hard to unappealingly pack four feet of backed goods.
“Well, I’d better find a new dress to wear tomorrow.”
Eriol looked at her slim figure, incredulous. “I can’t believe that.”
“You’re right, but I can’t quite think of anything else to say. Who on earth has time to do this sort of thing?”
“Don’t look at me. I was up half the night with the Kasson paper.” Actually, he’d finished that over the weekend.
“Same here. Okay, well, grab one side?”
Eriol chuckled and picked up the whole basket easily. “Where to, milady?”
Tomoyo shook her head and moved back to the elevator, inspecting the package as she did so. “This actually looks good. I seriously don’t think I can eat it all, though. Promise me you’ll split it?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“I know you hate dessert, but even you couldn’t say no to…um…all this. Come on in, what are you waiting for?”
Eriol had paused outside her door. The funny thing was, she’d come to his apartment before, but he’d never set foot in hers. Steeling himself, he marching on in, kicking off his shoes.
“Tsk, tsk. A four-foot basket is no excuse for messiness,” she chided, fixing his shoes.
Eriol set the basket down in the kitchen and looked around. As he expected, the whole apartment was decorated with impeccable taste, each room’s motif subtly fading into the next. “You’ve done an excellent job here, Tomoyo.”
“That’s right, you’ve never been here. Well, this is home sweet home. Obviously, you know where everything is-” all apartments consisted of the same layout “-and now you can visit more often. Or visit, period.”
Eriol was about to respond when a picture on the mantle caught his eye. Tomoyo was standing, obviously in concert attire, her arm slung casually around Hiro, who was equally dressed. “When was this?”
“Hmm? Oh, that was the concert. You know, the one I asked you to play with me in? And you refused? I was desperate, and I ran across Hiro. Turns out he plays the piano, too, and so he accompanied me. He’s not bad, actually.”
Eriol knew that he was the only one to blame, but he couldn’t help but feel incredibly jealous. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, then. Oh, I just forgot. Early class.”
“You’re leaving me to go to breakfast all by myself?”
“Why don’t you call Hiro?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and they just hung there.
Tomoyo gave him an odd look. “Um, okay? Doesn’t he have class now? The music study?”
“Yeah. Probably. See you later.” He backed out, clumsily, before turning and almost running out the door.