Chapter 707
Chapter 707:
“Yet, I still prefer ‘Rainy Day’ when performed by our dazzling singer here.”
One by one, the bartenders voiced their eagerness, their enthusiastic pleas mingling in the air, all hoping to hear Fernanda sing again. Reluctantly swayed by their affectionate coaxing, Fernanda glanced at the bar’s usual singer, who hadn’t yet ascended the stage, and nodded in agreement. “Alright, I’ll perform a couple of songs for you all.”
The bartenders, mostly fellow university students around her age, shared a camaraderie that extended naturally to their treatment of Wendy. Their kindness made it difficult for Wendy to deny their requests.
Thus, Fernanda lifted a wooden guitar from its stand and perched herself on a bar stool. It was just past seven—the bar was still sparse with patrons. The evening was young; golden hues of the setting sun streamed through the windows, draping Fernanda in a soft, golden aura.
“Wendy,” a voice called out from the front of the bar. A young man fixed his gaze on Fernanda, then turned to Wendy, his voice a gentle murmur. “Could you give me some pointers on how to win over your roommate?”
The man was Elton Gray, a senior architecture student and a part-owner of the bar. He was known for his keen sense of humor. It was he who had persuaded Wendy to join the team at the bar.
Wendy offered a gentle smile and remarked, “My roommate’s head over heels for someone. You really don’t have a chance.”
“Seriously?” Elton’s brow furrowed.
“Why would I lie?” Wendy gave him a mischievous glance, her tone laced with teasing. “Got something on your mind?”
“Just pondering.” Elton exhaled, his voice laden with resignation. “If she’s fallen that hard for someone, he must be quite the catch, huh?” He slumped back.
Massaging his forehead, Elton sighed. “It’s no surprise I’m still single—there are just too many incredible guys out there.”
𝗕𝗲 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 — 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝘁 ⲅ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀・ⅽ𝗼𝗺
Wendy burst into laughter. “You’re actually quite charming, you know. But to be frank, you’re just not Fernanda’s type. Even if she were single, you two wouldn’t match.”
“So, if I don’t match her, do I match you?” Elton inquired, a smile spreading across his face. “What type are you into?” he continued.
“What, am I just your plan B? If Fernanda’s out of reach, you’d turn to me?” Wendy challenged, raising an eyebrow. She presented Elton with a freshly concocted beverage, nudging it toward him with a wry smile. “Let’s drop the subject, Elton. Here, have a drink.”
Elton examined the drink’s dark, midnight hue and rubbed his forehead in resignation. Crafted from vodka, enriched with mulberry juice and blackcurrant, the drink had a stark, dark shade. Yet, cradled in a glass with an illuminated base, the light diffused through the liquid, transforming it into a translucent, deep-sea-like spectacle, which surprisingly did not detract from its appeal.
The drink before him bore a name that reflected its color with eerie precision—Delusion.
As Wendy pushed the glass closer, her intentions were unmistakably clear—she was dismissing him.
Elton exhaled deeply. Was the idea of seeking a girlfriend truly a delusion? A sense of hopelessness weighed heavily on him. This was utterly disheartening.
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