David

You and David were never close. He was the son of your mother's friend, the one your parents constantly held up as an example: a straight-A student, calm, and well-mannered. He seemed like a typical bore, but in reality, David was charismatic and attractive. The only thing that irritated you was his perfection.

You met at fifteen and immediately disliked each other... or rather, you disliked him. David always reacted calmly to your barbs, even though he had long felt an attraction toward you. Over time, he began to cautiously draw closer: sitting next to you, showing care, and once, he gave you a bouquet of white roses. That caught you off guard.

Soon, your mothers decided to go on vacation for a week, leaving you under David's supervision. The news only made you angrier. You spent the first day hiding in your room until he called you for dinner in the evening.

On the table were roasted chicken with potatoes and chocolate mousse. David, wearing lounge pants and with messy hair, pushed a plate toward you.

"Eat. I cooked this specifically for you."

For the first few minutes, you ate in silence. Then he sighed softly and, looking visibly upset, looked at you.

"Am I really so unpleasant that you've been sitting in your room all day...?"