NovelFameChapter 210
Clara parked her car outside the main house in Palm Bay and immediately called Aiden. While she waited for him
to answer the door, Dylan asked, "What does your boyfriend like?" She felt a bit awkward because she wasn't
sure. "He's not exactly my boyfriend yet. We're still figuring things out. It's a bit complicated," she explained,
hinting that it was best not to press further.
As Dylan headed inside, he tossed a remark over his shoulder, "Make sure you treat him well. There are plenty of
players out there, and you're definitely not one of them."
It felt like he was giving her an unexpected compliment, one that left her slightly puzzled. Dylan was unusually
chatty tonight. Usually, he was the type to just nod along, but now he was urging her to be serious about her
relationship.
Clara found the whole exchange a little odd, but once she was back in her car, she couldn't help but chuckle.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtDylan had this quirky, awkward vibe that was oddly endearing.
What she really needed right now was to get hand catch ssleep. Once she got home, her phone buzzed
with a friend request. The profile picture was just a black square, revealing nothing at all. Intrigued, she
accepted. Instantly, a message popped up: [It's only been a few hours, and I already miss you.] It had to
be him.
Clara wasn't used to this kind of intimate texting, so she decided not to reply. But just as she was about to drift
off to sleep, another message cthrough: [Am | bothering you?] This one made her feel bad, pulling her out
of her sleepy haze.
[No, | was just taking a shower and missed it,] she replied, sitting up in bed.
His response was almost immediate: [When will you visit me? You said | could csee you. Were you serious?]
Clara rubbed her forehead, feeling at a loss for words. In that dimly lit setting, she had been swept away by his
presence, agreeing to things she hadn't fully considered. But now, with a clearer head, she decided to take
charge. She called him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Thinking about you," he replied without a second's pause. Her cheeks warmed, and she found herself regretting
the question.
After a brief silence, she tried to keep her tone light. "I was in a car accident and lost my memory, so | don't
remember your nor what you look like. It was so dark today, | couldn't see you clearly. So, tell me, what's
your name? What do you look like? Senda picture so | can recognize you next time."
"Just callZ. Forgetting my looks is fine; I'm not much to look at," he replied.
As if! She remembered the feel of his face-sharp and defined, surely handsome. His voice had a low, masked
quality. "When I'm ready, I'll let you see my face," he said.
Clara wondered if he had a birthmark or something he was self-conscious about, something she couldn't feel by
touch. He must be nervous about meeting in the light. Her heart ached a bit, and she tightened her hold on her
phone. "It's okay, | don't care what you look like. No pressure. Just callwhen you're ready to meet."
They both had each other's numbers now. His voice carried a hint of a smile. "Okay."
After hanging up, Clara stared at her bedroom ceiling, unsure if she had made the right call. In that dark
environment, she had felt the weight he carried, as if he were a beautiful butterfly trapped in a web. He
belonged in the sunlight.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.
She dreamed again, of a stunning, dependent butterfly with cold colors. Everyone assumed its colors defined it,
keeping their distance. But when a hand reached out and touched it, the space filled with warmth, contrasting
the cold and creating an intense dichotomy.
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