Chapter 4

Medora

“I didn't think that he would have a girlfriend,” I watched Yellow plate their orders.

“Why? Because he is crippled?” She threw the bomb at me like that.

“Uhn. No,” I wasn't convincing her, I was convincing myself. “He just doesn't look like the type.

“Do you want to take Clyde's plate? You could give him the note that way,” Yellow suggested.

I don't know why I was timid all of a sudden. I cleared my throat and picked up his plate and another while Rob took the other two. I steadied my steps the closer I got to their table, I don't want to trip and spill Clyde's food and whoever's with me as well.

Arriving at the table, I could only inhale a mix of really expensive colognes. It was almost choking. They booked the whole restaurant for just four people? Weird.

“I'm sorry the surgery wasn't a success Clyde. You are trying again next year right?” The man earlier said, fixing his tux.

“Thanks, Henry,” Clyde feigned a crooked smile.

Clyde looks better today in his black suit. His frustration was still clearly etched in his features and he still had a messy beard but he looks like he made an effort. I couldn't help but notice the obvious sexual tension between Clyde's mom and Henry.

I quickly put my hand in my back pocket and slid the note into Clyde's hand without anyone noticing and walked away. I stood next to Yellow at a corner, checking to see if he would read the letter.

He looked up to the dark haired girl who tapped him. She muttered a few words before trailing her fingers down the side of Clyde's face, her palm stopping just above his left breast.

Clyde looked away, he wasn't comfortable and I could feel it only if the clingy ass bitch next to him would notice that too.

“Eww, she's so weird,” I scoffed just as she picked up Clyde's hand and brought it to her chest.

Yellow chuckled, obviously enjoying the drama. The girl finally returned to her phone giving Clyde a chance to take a look at my note. He reached into the bag behind his wheelchair and took out something.

A glasses case.

Does he own glasses? Damn. Hot nerd.

Despite his visibly unkempt state, it was still impossible to see Clyde Miller as less than perfect. He has beautifully sculpted cheekbones and structured jawline. Though his lips are thin, they had the perfectly carved cupid's bow highlighting his face. His electric blue eyes were also his most noticeable feature, they go perfectly with his blonde curls.

He wore his glasses and unfolded the note. He stared at it for a while before raising his head and I could peek at a small smirk appearing somewhere somehow. He is not an asshole after all!

He turned his head and caught me staring yet again! I immediately pulled away from yellow and sprinted into the kitchen.

______

It had started raining again, I walked under the rain towards my porch. After the Clyde family left, we had to stay back to clean up and close. Clyde didn't respond to my note though we kept throwing weird glances at each other.

Besides, he could respond since that brown haired chick wouldn't give him space to breathe. I steadied my steps as I arrived at my porch, careful not to slip.

“Achoo! Achoo!” I sneezed, the cold already getting to me.

“Bless you,” the voice was raspy but soft and sounded a bit distant.

I didn't need to think twice to figure out who it was, only one person sat in a treehouse that looms over my compound all day.

“Thank you,” I looked upward towards the treehouse.

He stuck his head out the window, his both arms leaning on the window frame.

“I got your note,” he sounded a bit dismissive.

“I know a note doesn't go a long way but I'm genuinely sorry. I really hope we can start all over,” I bit my bottom lip, staring up at the seventeen year old.

“My name is Clyde Miller. I'm nineteen, I love my treehouse, I used to play football, I can play the piano and guitar as well, my legs don't work and I'm sorry for yelling at you the other day,”

Nineteen?! Wow. Now that I think about it, he does look nineteen. His legs don't work but his hands do, I thought that electric wheelchairs were mostly for people who are paralyzed in the four limbs.

I sighed. Preparing myself for my turn.

“I'm Medora Bailey. I'm thirty-one, I love my dad. I miss my best friend and I really regret running away from home.”

I could see how much I shocked him with my story. But his is probably much worse, losing his dad, injuring his legs and a failed surgery? Yeah, worse.

“Shouldn't we shake hands If we want a do over?” He smiled. Genuinely not the feigned frustrated ones I saw all night.

Since I was the wet one, I stepped back into the drizzle and made my way to his house, up the treehouse stairs and into the treehouse. To the left was a small dining set, couches on the right, and an entertainment center. Straight ahead, a glass wall revealed a doorway, and there was Clyde, taking off his shoes.

He was still in his dinner outfit except his suit jacket and shoes. His tie was loosened, a few buttons on his shirt were undone as well and his sleeves were folded just a little.

“I barely ate at the restaurant, want to join me?” He said, nudging at the table next to his bed that had on it, a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and jam.

He handed me a dry towel.

“Thank you,” I smiled and sat on his bed. It was the only free place to sit, aside from his lap and the floor.

“You don't like your guests that much?” I asked, untying the bread.

“Ohh… not that. Henry is my mom's best friend, Emilia is his daughter. She is my best friend, we grew up together but….” He paused and watched me struggle to open the jam cap.

He signaled for me to pass him the jar and I did. In one swift motion the cap was off the jar, he made it look so easy like I was making a fuss not being able to open it. He looked damn hot opening the jar.

Ohh God, Medora! He is just nineteen.