Chapter 75. What Is Wrong With Him?

Chapter 75: Chapter 75. What Is Wrong With Him?

Chapter 75. What Is Wrong With Him?

Rosa Lin’s POV

"Yes, go on. Start by explaining to me how the fucking hell you manipulated my friend’s mind," I said, clenching my fists tightly as I stared at him across the room.

He sat upright on the opposite sofa, holding his bottle of Coke in a firm grip. For a few silent moments, he just stared back at me, a single eyebrow raised. That same annoying, smug smirk expanded across the corner of his lips.

I wished I had some sudden burst of strength—some ultimate, powerful aura I could summon to crush his skull just to prove I wasn’t someone to mess with. But he held the upper hand right now, and he knew it. I hated the way his eyes raked over my face before sliding down to the coke I had discarded on the sofa beside me.

"So, you’re not going to drink that?" he asked, blatantly dodging the topic.

I bit my lip and tilted my head, grinding my teeth so hard my jaw throbbed. I struggled to control the rising tide of rage making my mind spin. He really thought this was some kind of joke. I exhaled heavily, glaring down at the floor before forcing my gaze back to him. He was still smiling.

Finally, he held up both hands. "Okay, okay," he said quickly. "All right, I’ve stalled long enough."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to actually give me something real. He smacked his lips, stood up, and folded his arms, looking off to the side as if carefully weighing how to explain the situation to me.

"Well, concerning your friend..." He paused, tapping a finger against his chin in deep thought. "I don’t know how to put this to you calmly, but from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re the one losing your mind. Because how the hell does anyone manipulate someone else’s mind?"

I blinked, my jaw slumping open. I shifted my jaw side to side, fighting to keep my composure from completely shattering. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Relax, Rosa, I told myself. Just relax.

Opening my eyes, I pinned him with a steady glare. "Fine," I said. "Think about it this way: when was the first time we met?"

He raised an eyebrow, tapping his chin as if pondering the question, though I knew he was just playing along to patronize me. "Yeah, we met at the restaurant. Was it a few days ago, or maybe a week? When I helped you pay for your meals?"

I smiled sarcastically. "Great. Glad to know your memory works that far back. Now, after that, when was the next time you met me? Oh, wait—before we even get to that, who was I with at the restaurant?"

He nodded slowly. "You were with your friend."

"Very, very perfect," I said, my voice tight. "And she saw you, didn’t she?"

He nodded again.

"Great. Now, when did we meet next?"

He tilted his head. "I ran into you guys at the cafeteria. I asked for your number, but you were being a little stubborn."

I scoffed, dismissing his petty remark. "That’s not the point. The point is, while you were pulling your strange, incomprehensible, unbelievable stunt, my friend was right there. She saw you with her own eyes. She was actually teasing me about the encounter afterward."

He shrugged, wholly unbothered. "And so what?"

"The most infuriating part," I pressed on, step by step, "was when I got back to her apartment later and brought you up."

His smirk broadened. "Oh, I see. So you’ve been secretly talking about me."

"This is not a joke!" I snapped.

He clamped his mouth shut and nodded slowly, closing his eyes in mock submission. "Yeah, sure. No problem. As you wish, my queen." But that amused, insufferable tilt stayed fixed on his lips.

I hated that he found this funny. I hated that he treated every word out of my mouth like a game. I hated everything about his presence, the way he effortlessly threw me off balance.

Chill out, Rosa, I commanded myself internally, closing my eyes and breathing through my nose. Just stay calm.

"My friend doesn’t remember you," I finally stated, my eyes locked on his.

He raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused for a fraction of a second. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

I scoffed. "Don’t play dumb with me. The fact remains, my friend has no fucking clue who you are. Which is extremely, completely weird, because I specifically brought you up. I said your name. You introduced yourself to both of us, yet she doesn’t remember a single thing about you."

He frowned, tilting his head as he stared down at the floor like he was trying to digest a math problem. "Are you sure about that? Or did you just invent this whole thing as some kind of test?"

My teeth ground together. "Why the hell would I make up something like this?"

He scoffed lightly, tightening his folded arms across his chest. "Well, I don’t know... considering you’ve been acting like..." He gestured vaguely, twirling his index finger around the side of his head in the universal sign for crazy.

My jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. Goodness me. This was utterly pointless.

I crashed back against the sofa cushion, crossing my arms tightly, and ran my fingers aggressively through my wet hair. Words failed me. I was completely dumbfounded, trapped in a dead-end argument with a wall.

"You should really change your clothes," his voice boomed across the silence.

I dropped my hands from my head and glared at him, my eyes burning with pure venom.

He smirked, his eyes trailing unceremoniously over my wet clothes. "I offered to help you earlier, but you insisted on being stubborn. That hypothermia I mentioned is going to set in soon if you stay in those wet clothes. You’re dripping all over my sofa and my floor. Please, why don’t you just get rid of them?"

"Why don’t you start by answering my question first?" I bit back.

He scoffed.

"Do you honestly think you can threaten me with a little cold? I don’t give a fuck if you freeze—that’s not going to force me to answer you. I’m not answering because what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense."

I gritted my teeth. He was maddening—overwhelmingly, impossibly confusing. One minute he acted like he was listening, and the next he turned everything around to make me look insane. And what the hell had he meant earlier when he said only Mr. Don could answer my questions?

I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead. I was so done with this.

"You’re freezing," he observed softly.

"I am not—" I started, but he cut me off.

"Rosa, you are freezing," he snapped, his eyes suddenly widening as he took in my whole body.

That was when I looked down. My hands were visibly shaking, vibrating against my lap. My knuckles and skin looked pale against the damp fabric of my jeans.

I gritted my teeth against the sudden, harsh shudder that hit me. Raising both hands in defeat, I finally caved. "Okay, fine! Great. But I don’t have anything to change into, okay? Someone didn’t exactly give me time to pack a bag for this impromptu visit."

He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I have a spare set of clothes."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I’m not a guy. I’m a lady."

"Don’t worry, I have unisex clothes as well," he said with a casual smile. "Can I share mine?"

I loathed this entire situation. I loathed his presence, hated how he had crashed into my life, twisting everything sideways and turning my reality upside down. But did I really have a choice right now? No. If I stayed in these ice-cold clothes, I’d end up sick within minutes—the chill was already seeping deep into my bones.

I let out a harsh breath, yielding.

He pushed himself off his sofa and gestured toward a doorway down the hall. "Why don’t you come with me? I will take you there."

I pulled myself up off the couch. The moment my feet hit the floor, my legs wobbled violently. I had to walk gingerly, every step stiff, as if my bones were frozen on ice. I had been so consumed by anger and frustration at his endless mind games that I hadn’t even realized how thoroughly the cold had crept in, building a quiet disaster inside me.

We walked down the long corridor. My feet made almost no sound against the floor. I glanced around at the closed doors lining the hall; everything about this apartment felt eerie and unnatural.

He stopped outside a door, pausing for a second before turning to look at me. He swung it open and gestured inside. "Here."

I gave him a skeptical look, scoffing under my breath before stepping past him into the room. He chuckled behind me.

I looked around. Just like the rest of the place, it wasn’t lavish or fancy, but simple and functional—a basic, student-style room typical for someone attending campus on a tight budget.

I turned around to face him.

"You can check the wardrobe," he said calmly. "A lot of clothes are there. Pick whatever tickles your fancy."

He was still leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, that persistent, irritating smirk playing on his lips. He gave me a questioning look, as if wondering why I was just standing there staring at him.

I scoffed, my arms dropping to my sides. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"What?" he asked softly.

"Can you give me some privacy?" I snapped.

He chuckled, his smile broadening. "What’s wrong with me standing here?"

I stared at him in utter disbelief, glaring with my fists tightly clenched. Frustrated beyond words, I dragged my fingers through my wet hair, squeezing my eyes shut. What is it with the men in my life and this pervasive lack of boundaries?

"I’m not doing this with you standing there," I muttered, biting my lower lip.

He chuckled again. "You wouldn’t request that if it were Don."

I froze, my head snapping up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It’s quite easy," he said with a smooth shrug. "If Don were the one here, he would invade your privacy, make suggestive moves on you, and you would succumb. It has always been that easy."

My jaw dropped in disbelief. I stared at him, completely paralyzed by the sheer audacity of his words.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Never mind, forget I said that."

It was already too late. The confession hit me like a sledgehammer, echoing in the silence of the room. All I could do was grimace at him in stunned disgust. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Before I could utter another word, he stepped back into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind him.