I feel irritated these past few days. Everything is making me irritated. Being a woman sucks. I don’t even understand myself. It feels like I’m four different people every month. I get annoyed for no reason when I look at Syntho. 
We don’t have school today, so I’ve been staying in my room to avoid causing trouble. I’m pissed off while I’m playing Honor of Kings. My team keeps losing, and my internet connection is slow. I don’t want my parents to hear me swearing, because I’m sure my father would slap me left and right. Swearing is a big no-no in our house. 
I stayed up late studying until the early hours, and I wake up around 10:00 AM. Our research presentation is tomorrow. I swear under my breath, annoyed, when my team loses the game again. I’ve been in a bad mood ever since that dinner four days ago. I punch my pillow in frustration before burying my face in it and scream. The thing I hate most is losing at games, but today isn’t my lucky day. It’s so frustrating to keep losing six games in a row. I’m so angry that I turn off my phone. I don’t want to snap at anyone today, or even in the following days, because of these mood swings I’ve got.
 
Suddenly I stop moving when I feel my left calf suddenly cramp. Oh shit calf cramps. This type of cramp hurts the most. My hands clench into fists because of the pain. Tears start to form in my eyes, and I bite my knuckle. Then out of a sudden the door to my room opens.
 
“S-Syntho…” I groan in pain, meeting his eyes. However my eyes slightly widen as he suddenly takes off the necktie he’s wearing, folds it seven times, and hands it to me on my free hand. 
"Knuckle off, bite my necktie between your teeth.”
 
I do as I’m told, as he positions himself at my left foot on my bed. He gently massages the affected muscle, causing me to tear up and wince.
 
“I’ve got you, darlin’,” his voice is calm as he continues what he’s doing. Motherf*cker, I hate cramps so much.
 
'It h-hurts…' Tears fall down my cheeks.
 
“Eyes on me." He doesn’t stop until the pain slowly goes away. He doesn’t even stop as I take the necktie out between of my teeth until he lets go of me and gently wipes away the tears from my cheeks.
 
“Thank you,” I mumble.
 
“My pleasure. How are you feeling?” He doesn’t leave my bed, and it makes me feel awkward, especially after remembering what he said earlier.
 
'Knuckle off, bite my necktie between your teeth.'
 
That made me feel something in my stomach. That was too sexy. Damnit.
 
“I can hear you,” he chuckles deeply. The sound echoes around my room. 
 
I roll my eyes. “That’s unfair. Stop listening. Get out of here. You’re annoying."
 
“Okay, okay. I will,” ugh, will he stop that chuckle? “Can I have my necktie back now, darlin’?” absolutely not!
 
“No. I’ll wash it first before I hand it back to you,” I refuse to let go of his necktie before getting out of bed.
 
“There’s no need for that—”
 
“I insist, so shut up,” I say, glaring at him. “Get out of here. I’m annoyed by your face." Shantal, you better shut up and stop being rude!
 
Instead of being insulted by the way I speak to him, he still chuckles as he leaves my room.
 
I can’t sleep, and it’s already 1:23 AM. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for hours, and I’m annoyed with myself. I get out of bed, grab the broom, then put it down. I open my closet and rearrange my clothes. Minutes later, I start rearranging my table setting by the window, taking my books off the shelves, dusting them off, and putting them back. I take off the sticker wallpaper designs on my walls. I leave my room, and grab two buckets of paint, which I never used. I return to my room, carrying the paint in my hands. I put covers over my things and my bed so they won’t get paint. I also grab a ladder for support, so I can reach the top and edges of the walls. I open the lid and dip the brush in the paint. I sigh wishing I will not regret doing this later. 
 
“Since I can’t sleep anyway, it’s better to change the theme of my room. So, let’s do this, Shantal,” much to encourage myself doing this in the middle of the night.
THE NEXT DAY, literally, I don’t sleep, and today is the day of our research presentation. I haven’t even finished painting my room. I can’t move my cabinet, so I can’t paint the wall behind it. I also have paint splatters on my skin and clothes, and I feel exhausted. I get off the carpet. My shoulders are aching from painting for hours, and I regret starting this. I groan as I head into the shower and clean myself up.
 
I keep yawning while cooking in the kitchen. I regret not sleeping last night. A hand touches my arm, making me jump in surprise. I look at the person who touched me.
 
“Gosh, Syntho, you startled me,” he just grabs the spatula away from my hand. So I let him take over where I left off.
 
“You didn’t sleep again. Your presentation is today, and you’re staying up late. You should ask for my help next time if you want to paint and rearrange your room in the middle of the night,” why is he yapping early this morning? “You have sore shoulders from painting your room, and you keep yawning,” he adds, looking at me seriously.
 
I ignore him and lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “I don’t want to bother you especially not in the middle of the night."
 
He turns off the stove when he finishes cooking and takes a step closer to me. “Uncross your arms,” he orders, I raise an eyebrow, but I finally do as he says. He doesn’t say anything as he massages my left arm, followed by my right.
 
“Syntho,” he focuses on my arm and not looking at me. 
 
“Hmm?” he hums. And damn me if I didn't find it sexy as hell. “I can hear you,” he says finally meeting my eyes.
 
I groan in annoyance. “Duh, I know that, but you don’t need to massage my arms,” it's fucking sore. 
 
“Turn around,” he orders. I don’t argue as he turns me to face the counter, my back against him. He puts his hands on my shoulders and gently massages them.
 
“You’re spoiling me, you know,” I close my eyes, feeling the tenderness of his fingers on my shoulders. Oh, gosh, this feels like such a good massage.
 
“And I love doing it. Spoiling you is my priority,” aw that's lovely.
 
I smile, opening my eyes. “I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” referring to when I chased him out of my room, after he soothed my cramp.
 
“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control. It’s part of your phase. I’m getting used to it,” he mumbles, finishing the massage. And I turn to face him.
 
“You’re making me fall." I raise my hands to cup his cheeks gently.
 
“And I’m always here to catch you." and he touches my hands that's touching his cheeks. 
 
A wide smile spreads across my face. “Cliché, Syntho. Really cliché."
 
“You love it,” he points out, smirking. 
 
“Yeah, I do,” Denying it is useless.
 
“Good to know. I’m bound to be cliché with what’s mine.”