By Afifah Adi
Based on the Thai series, Home School, episode 13.
It’s dark in the hallway and White cautiously studies the hand Nai extends to her. A million thoughts run through her mind as she glances back and forth between him and his hand. She had just come out of the bathroom and was on her way to her dorm, when she sensed that someone was following her. Her suspicion was proven true when Nai sheepishly made himself known by the corner, expressing how worried he was that she too would disappear like the other students.
Alright, that’s cute, White muses, until suddenly Nai stretches out his hand toward her, waiting for her to take it. It catches her by surprise and fills her with apprehension. Although White appreciates his intention to accompany her, she doesn’t think they need to hold hands the rest of the way to her room.
Is this a good idea? Is this even necessary? White debates, as she shifts to hold the lantern and the towel in one hand and hesitantly reaches out the other to take his. However, a snort emitted by Nai ceases White from her tumbling thoughts.
“Your lamp. I’ll hold it for you,” Nai clarifies, gesturing towards the lamp in her hold.
White's gaze shifts momentarily at the lamp, then back at him, feeling her face burn over the assumption she just made. Embarrassed, she passes it to Nai whose face tinges with amusement.
To cover her flustered state, she drapes the towel on her head which serves as a hood, and sheepishly praises him, “Whoa, what a gentleman.” It takes her another second to realize that it only works to amplify how obviously embarrassed and affected she is about her initial reaction.
Nai narrows his eyes at her, clearly holding in his laughter and White wants to smack his stupid face for not being clear in the first place. She’s partly grateful that the masters always make it their business to turn the lights off all night, helping conceal the redness spreading on her cheeks.
I hate him! White inwardly curses, turning and resuming striding towards her room. She can feel Nai’s presence trailing after her, when all of a sudden, her right hand is gently held by him. “What–”
“You seemed dejected so…,” Nai nonchalantly says, forming a teasing smile.
“I—I wasn’t,” White splutters, looking down at their now clasped hands, then back at Nai.
“Really?” Nai peers down at her.
The apparent height difference between them forces White to tilt her head up slightly to meet his eyes. She has never
considered his height to be such a damn nuisance as it does at this very moment.
“You could have not made me look like an idiot,” White huffs, wishing she could wipe the smug face.
“Oh, so it’s my fault that you assumed I was asking to hold hands, hm?”
“Yes!”
Nai lets out a hearty chuckle at the gruff reply, subconsciously squeezing her hand.
“Well, do you like it?” he casually asks.
“Like what?”
“Me holding your hand.”
“Uh, it’s not bad?” White frowns, finding the inquiry ridiculous. “How am I supposed to answer that question?"
“You could say you like it.”
White doesn’t think that her face could flush even redder after what comes out of Nai. “Fine. I like it. Just because you would sulk if I said I didn't.”
“That, I don't doubt I would.”
Taken aback, White turns her focus on him, trying to gauge the real meaning of it. However, his face is kept blank as if he didn’t just imply that he wants her to like him being close. At least, that’s how White interprets it to be, yet she can’t figure out whether what he blurted just now holds any significant weight.
“What?” Nai returns her stare.
White doesn’t answer him, throwing her eyes back to the front. The rest of the short trip is spent in silence and White finds herself pondering around the thoughts of how protective and attentive Nai is at times. The times when he walked past her and shoved those mean boys away when they squared her up, or the way he always rushes to her side when she gets pushed to the ground.
She could attribute it to his caring nature, but White isn’t going to pretend as if she doesn’t see how most of these actions are prompted because of her. And maybe, maybe White likes it a little. She doesn’t deem herself a girl who needs a big, strong man to come to her rescue but somehow White doesn’t mind if the man is Nai.
She doesn’t mind when he defends her, pushing her behind his broad back as he looms over the other. Rather, she secretly finds that it’s hot. It’s hot when Nai easily towers over everyone in the room, and when he didn’t hesitate to punch Master Champ right in the face that one time. She also relishes the fact that his eyes seem to always linger on her. No matter when they are in a crowd or when it’s just the two of them, White basks in the attention all the same.
They are nearing the girls’ dorm and White finds herself wishing that the door would magically disappear or get tossed somewhere far away, just so she could spend a bit more time with him.
That is simply absurd, White chastises herself. Still, it comes in like ocean waves, washing over her with a sense of dejectedness when Nai's voice pierces through the silence as he mumbles out, “We’re here.”
With their steps coming to a stop, Nai unclasps their hands, signaling this is where they will part. She tries to mask her disappointment and playfully mutters, “Thanks for walking me here, gentleman.”
The boy tch-es. “Why do I feel like you’re making fun of me instead?”
“Seriously?” White rolls her eyes at his response but decides to humor him anyway. “Thank you na kha, Khun Nai. I couldn’t have reached here if it wasn’t because of you.” Placing her hand on her chest, she fakes a tearful look and adopts the polite terms for him.
“Okay, quit it,” Nai laughs, his eyes gleaming with amusement over White’s antics. Flicking his eyes around the dim-lit space, he extends the lamp he helped carry. “Here. It’s getting late.”
Confusion etches on White’s face. “You can have it. Don’t you need it to go back to your room?”
“No, it’s yours,” he insists, pushing it towards her so she would take it. “I’m gonna be fine.”
“Oh, okay.” Warily, White accepts the lamp from him. She contemplates whether she should be the one to bid farewell and retreat
inside first.
Before she can open her mouth, Nai cautiously brings his hand up, hovering over her head. White wonders what he intends to do, where he plans to land it. Her heartbeat quickens when his hand lowers on the top of her head, tousling her hair using the towel that covers her the entire time. The act carries a light-hearted undertone and White peeks up at him, anticipating if he has anything to say regarding it.
“Dry your hair properly. Don’t catch a cold,” he speaks up, tone laced with nervousness but still trying to pass off as if he’s being playful about it.
Dazed, White feels how fast her heart is pounding over the unexpected gesture, coupled with the stare Nai warmly shoots at her. They are close and White swarms in the tide of serenity that engulfed her and lets herself drown under the unwavering eyes fixed upon her.
It lasts for a few seconds until Nai clears his throat and withdraws his hand. Then all too quickly, the comfortable weight of it is gone and White is mortified by the profound void it creates within her.
“Well, I’ll get going,” Nai utters, awkwardly stepping backward and leaving a still-stunned White in her plain nightgown by the
door.
As he walks away, White is overcome with the need to call him out, feeling uneasy to leave their interaction just as it is.
“Nai!” Half-yelling, White’s voice echoes within the hallway, halting the tall teen in his tracks. He turns to look at her with a puzzled expression.
It takes White a beat to come up with something to say. In the end, she settles for a short, clipped wish, hoping it would be sufficient for now.
“Goodnight,” she softly says, bringing up her free hand and giving him a small wave.
Breaking into a smile, Nai waves back. “Goodnight, White.”
White tries to refrain from looking too giddy at the warm response. After Nai disappears by the corner, she rushes inside, mind still reeling from the interaction. She finds that Phleng is already fast asleep in her bed and Maki isn’t in the room yet, allowing her to openly indulge in the fluttering feelings without anyone coming up to ask about her unusual demeanor.
Placing the lamp she carries by her bedside, she gets on the bed and leans against the headboard. The towel stays intact on her head and White tentatively touches it, recalling what Nai did just a few minutes ago.
It feels nice, and White understands this feeling that stirs within her very well—has known of its simmering existence way before tonight happened, way before her roommates pointed out that Nai might have a crush on her.
Perhaps it started when Nai shamelessly revealed once that he likes a girl like White. White isn’t full of herself to believe that it deliberately meant that he likes her. In most likelihood, he is merely saying that someone like White is his type.
But now, she is unsure how much longer she would keep fooling herself as if that is the case to begin with because once again, White isn’t dumb to not notice when a guy is interested in her. She’s not dumb to not notice that Nai always has his eyes on her.
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