"I'm looking forward to your progress"*☺
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Two months passed quickly, and I'd made no progress in finding the mystery girl. But I had grown used to living with Miguel.
"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning over my shoulder.
"Homework," I replied, trying to stay focused on my module's questions.
"Oh. Well, number three's wrong," he said smugly.
I glared at him. "Then tell me the correct answer."
Miguel smiled. "Nope. I suggest you reread chapter thirty-three."
I groaned and threw a pillow at him. He let it pass through his body, of course.
"You could at least pretend to let it hit you," I grumbled.
He laughed. "Why would I do that?"
I sighed and reluctantly opened my history textbook. His eyes were on me as I read, which made it incredibly hard to concentrate.
"Please… don't stare at me," I mumbled without looking at him.
"I'm not staring at you."
I turned and met his gaze directly. "Yes, you are!"
He smirked. "Well, look at that—you're right for once."
I shot him a look while he grinned, obviously enjoying my irritation. There was nothing I could do to him anyway. I turned back to my homework, defeated.
"It's Sun Tzu. 544 B.C.," Miguel said suddenly.
"I'll never learn if you just tell me the answer," I snapped, though secretly I was relieved to skip more reading.
"Says the girl begging for the answer five minutes ago."
"I was not begging," I said, pointing my pen at him. "Anyway, thank you. Chinese history is interesting, but I'm not exactly a scholar."
I glanced at him—and his face was right there, only inches away. He was leaning over my worksheet, and the sudden closeness nearly stopped my heart.
"Everything else looks good. Nice job," he said.
He almost never compliments me. I couldn't help but smile a little. "Thanks."
"Is that all you have left?"
"I still need to memorize my acting script," I admitted.
He placed a cold hand on my cheek and gently turned my face toward his. I couldn't stop shaking—it was that cold.
"Then while you do that," he said, "I'll prepare a reward for you… since you're working so hard." He disappeared without another word.
It took me five minutes to stop shivering, and another hour to finish memorizing. When I finally stepped out of my room, a delicious smell hit me like a truck. It wasn't hard to figure out where he was.
In the kitchen, Miguel stood in all white with his hair tied back, carefully setting the table with a buffet of breakfast foods.
"You… can cook?" I asked, regretting it immediately. Of course he could—this didn't just magically appear.
"I was going for a bachelor's in culinary arts before I died," he said.
It was the first real thing he'd shared about himself.
I sat down across from him as he leaned on the table, chin in hand. "I'm sure you would've been really successful."
"And about the clothes—I didn't mean to change. They probably shifted into what I used to wear when I cooked."
"They just change on their own?"
"Well, technically, my clothes don't exist. I can change them anytime I want."
Wait—does that mean he's… naked all the time?
"Spirits don't need clothes," he said flatly. "Don't overthink it. Just eat."
He sat silently as I took my first bite. It felt strange, him just watching.
"How are the eggs? Too much salt? Not enough? You prefer them in butter maybe?" he asked in a rush.
I was still chewing but he continued assaulting me with questions anyway, "Want syrup for your crepes? Strawberry or maple? The orange juice is fresh-squeezed…"
I quickly took a sip and nodded. "Everything is perfect. I'm just really happy you cooked for me."
And I meant it. The food looked and tasted like something from a five-star brunch spot. Miguel smiled.
"I made turkey bacon since I know you're trying to lose weight. Is it crispy enough?"
I took a bite and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! It's always floppy when I cook it!"
He laughed. "Glad to hear it."
My heart fluttered. He looked… genuinely content.
"So, are you going to eat anything?"
He shook his head. "I made it for you. It'd be a waste if I ate it."
I really didn't understand him sometimes.
"Eat faster," he said, demanding.
"Why? I don't have class today."
"I want to go somewhere with you—while it's still early." I hurried at his request.
Apparently, all he had in mind was a walk. Probably because it gets hot in the afternoon. The heat didn't bother him, so he was being considerate. That… was surprisingly thoughtful.
"So, Miguel," I asked as we walked. "Can you tell me more about the girl you're in love with?"
He blushed slightly, looking away with a soft smile. I had no idea he could make an expression like that.
"I'm in a good mood today, so I'll tell you something," he said. "She's very determined. Committed. A little emotional. Beautiful… and usually unaware of herself."
I waited for more. He stopped there.
"I was kind of hoping you'd describe how she looks," I said. "So I can actually look for her."
"Nope. Figure that out on your own."
He smiled, clearly enjoying my frustration. I puffed my cheeks and pouted.
"She's a girl," he shrugged. "She could've dyed her hair. Might wear contacts. There's no telling what color her eyes are."
Great. That narrows it down.
"Did you go to the same college as her?"
Miguel grinned. "Yes."
That surprised me. He would've stood out, but I couldn't remember ever seeing him. Then again, I had been obsessed with Jack back then. Plus, this campus is huge. And Miguel studied culinary arts…
Wait. If he saw her every day, maybe she was in the culinary division too!
A lead! Finally! I broke into a smile, and Miguel immediately frowned.
"What's that face for?"
"I think I'm getting closer to finding her. I'm excited!"
His expression darkened.
"Why?"
The way he said it made me tense up.
"I really want to do this for you," I said softly.
He relaxed. "Oh really? …Well, thanks."
We spent the rest of the afternoon going over history trivia to help me prep for a test. When we got home, I was completely exhausted. I went straight to bed.
But later, I woke up to voices.
"I can't do it right now," Miguel said.
"Why are you wasting time?" a second voice snapped—a man's voice, low and angry.
"I know… I'm sorry. You're right," Miguel replied, sounding defeated.
I know eavesdropping is bad, but I couldn't help it.
"I care about you, Dami," Miguel said. His voice dropped—warm, vulnerable.
Wait. Dami?
The other voice sounded more feminine now—raspy and sharp. "Don't forget your promise to me."
Then silence.
My heart pounded. Who was she? If that's the girl he loves, why am I even looking for her? I couldn't make sense of the feelings swirling inside me.
Then I heard him again.
"Lemon… are you awake?" Miguel whispered, entering my room.
I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to sleep.
He chuckled softly, and then I felt his cold lips brush my cheek.
"Sweet dreams."
He vanished.
And as soon as I was alone again, my eyes flew open.
I'm definitely not sleeping soundly tonight.