I blushed once more. But I feel like reading more novels, for it had become my addiction and it had healed my deepest wounds. Am afraid Harry might let me down and might shatter my heart into a piece this time.

He checked his wristwatch saying, “Twelve pm, we have to be quick. Get up, Annie, please. I just want to go out with you today.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay, I will follow you but let me finish reading one page, just this one page.”

He grabbed the novel and threw it far on the edge of the bed. “You are wasting time. You have to bathe quickly.”

“What of you? Go bath first.”

“I had had my bath already.”

“Go change your clothes then,” I said.

“Hope you would be ready before I came back?" He asked, gazing at me.

I bite my lips. “Err… just give me thirty minutes.”

He furrows his brow. "Thirty minutes is too much. I give you only twenty minutes. If I come back after twenty minutes and you are still in the bathroom, I would open the door.”

I pressed my knuckle on my mouth. “You want to see me naked? I know you are a prostitute since when you want to rape me that time your mom locked us in the lift.”

“Stop saying rubbish, I am not a prostitute.”

“But you love girls too much. Every guy that loves girls much is a prostitute.”

“Hey, did you see a girl beside me before?”

“It seemed so.”

“When and where?” He asked, staring at me.

I stare at the window, stare at the ceiling, tapping my head, and then I looked at him as if I had remembered the answer. ”You need to go to your room on time, I want to fart.”

He hurried out, slamming the door behind him. I rolled on the bed with laughter. He then knocked at my door and boomed. “Thank you for informing me. Get up now. You have to be fast. Go, go, go bath.”

“Okay,” I stopped laughing, hurriedly into the bathroom.

He called me once more. “Annie, be fast, please.”

I raised my voice. “I’m in the bathroom now.” I paused, waiting for his reply, but I hear nothing. Maybe he has gone to dress. I twerk before the mirror in the bathroom. I can’t believe Harry can ask me out for a date. It feels like a dream. I’m happy but I will never let the arrogant of him know. If he knows, he might become too proud. I turned the water on and closed my eyes as the cool water dripped down upon me. I imagined him putting his hand across my shoulder leading me amid many girls, who were gazing and clapping at us sauntering in the middle in white and black. I imagined them stunned and wished for a happy couple like us. And then, I imagined him chasing me amid the garden filled with enchanted trees under the blue sky that has glistened down the light of a long and curves rainbow. It looked like an Indian film and I imagine myself singing in a language I don't understand. I watched him holding my rope after he caught me hiding amid the flowers and then he held more tightly, never to let me go. Then we kiss. And for a moment I forget that I was bathing.

I sighed, staring at my nakedness in the mirror, and pulled my hair to the back. I need to stop myself from fantasizing about him. I don't want to put myself in the state of expecting much from him, for that was what hurt me deeply last time. Rubbing myself now with soap, I caught myself imagining him touching my breast instead of the soap, and I stop myself on the track. I am afraid. I’m afraid to love again because it might wound me more than before. I forced my mind off it. Yes, I don't love him, I should not fool myself, I can't love him and I will never love him no matter what happened. I must do this if I don't want to suffer and get hurt beyond what novels or comedies videos can heal.

Combing my hair before the mirror of my wardrobe in nakedness, I remember I had not locked the door. What if he comes in without knocking? I dashed to the door, locking it, and then I was relieved as if a mountain was removed from my heart. Opening my wardrobe now, I search for the clothe Mrs. Eliza bought for me on Monday. It was a red vest, with a cab. I wore them and wore a jacket to prevent myself from the snow cold. The clock ticked at one twenty-three, I had even used more than twenty minutes, but why was he not here? I rearranged my novels on my bookshelf as perfectly as I can make it be. Looking at my bookshelf as I took three steps backward, I felt that I still need more books to buy. More romance books to eat, although I hadn’t eaten the entire book on the shelf, I still need more, for my mind is yelling for more as a thirsty deer yelled for the water in the desert.

The throb was turned and then a knock came. “Open the door, Annie hasn't you ready yet.”

A wave of anxiety whirled within me. It might be because of the turning throb, or maybe because it makes me remember the awful night some guy wants to rape me. It might be because he didn't knock before he wants to open the door or because of the feeling I am feeling now, which says I am going for a date for the first time.