Chapter 98

Another plate of food a different dish with an exotic name find its way onto my table. Oliver seems amused that I would want to eat this particular dish, as I remember the question he asked me before I ordered it.

"Are you sure you want to eat this dish?" my eyes snapped to him in wonder as it seems this is the first time I have actually ever heard him speak.

His voice is beautiful, not warm like Eras's, or sensuous like Clay's, but just surprisingly beautiful. He has that sort of voice that people would call rare, as I can't seem to have heard its particular tone in anyone else.

It is the sort of voice that makes you feel this person is unusual, as the tone is simply out of this world. I wonder what it would be like to hear him sing, I heard he loves painting but yet I haven't seen any one of his paintings.

It strikes me now that Oliver isn't the sort of popular guy that I thought he was. Sure he's popular enough because of his looks, and his reputation as one of the best and most caring boys at school, but he isn't the sort of popular that would entail always showing off or always parading yourself around.

He's the sort of popular that I would consider reserved, as I'm not sure anybody still knows him exactly. Nobody seems to have the full story on him, except from what we have heard from someone else, and the notion that he's shrouded in mystery makes me feel surprisingly thrilled.

This is one more person that I can't seem to know everything about, and though I am curious, I don't think I want to take up the job of finding out.

I already have two people on my list who require me to know exactly as much as I can about them, and I'm not planning to shirk my responsibilities this time.

He talks with the timbre of someone who dosen't really use his voice, but yet controls it to efficiently and magnificently that each and every word seems perfect.

When he speaks, it makes me feel like he's talking in a new language, and curly hair.

I realise with silent embarrassment that I have actually fallen into a daze over what I was thinking, and I hurriedly snap out of it, to focus back on him.

"Why do you say it will be horrible?" I ask, and he chuckles slightly.

"I didn't say it would be horrible, I only asked if you were sure this was the dish you wanted". I nod my head, as I proceed to take a bite.

The first bite confirmed my suspicions. You know there's this thing's feeling that you always have when you feel something just isn't right.

I don't know if I got that feeling from the way Oliver seemed to ask me the question, or the way each and every other person at the table was looking at me intensely to see exactly how I thought this dish would be.

It turns out exactly how I would have hoped it was, but yet that doesn't seem to be in my best interest. It tastes like poop.