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After that, my interactions with Ernest would be a topic of discussion for Deborah, leading to awkward moments for both of us, especially since Ernest had made it abundantly clear he wanted to pretend we were strangers, making it imperative that our past encounters remained a secret.
"I don't know him," I lied.
"But you..." Deborah started, but I cut her off. "I guessed."
Deborah hardly touched her meal, her mind elsewhere, particularly on Ernest. It was strange to see her like that, especially since she ordered her favorite dish, chicken parmesan. It seemed even the most delicious food lost its appeal in the presence of a handsome man.
"Guessed?" Deborah was the type who wouldn't rest until she figured everything out, always persistent. "What, did Ernest have it written on his face?"
I was at a loss for words, trying to figure out a believable story, when I noticed a small charm hanging from Ernest's bag. It was a cute little white bunny, utterly adorable.
"That," I gestured toward the charm, "is all the proof I need."
"How does that prove anything?" Deborah was still puzzled.
"Come on. Don't you think it's odd for a grown man to carry such a cutesy charm? Unless..." I trailed off, sipping the too-sweet milkshake Deborah had ordered for me.
"Next time, I'm sticking to lemonade," I reminded her, more to myself than her.
Deborah ignored my comment, staring at Ernest's bag charm, muttering, "Felicia thinks it's from his girlfriend, like telling everyone he’s off the market."
Seeing she caught on, I patted her shoulder, standing up to leave. But Deborah grabbed my sleeve. "Felicia, maybe he just likes bunnies, heh?"
I sighed speechlessly.
"I'll just ask him directly," she declared as Ernest and his friend Graham returned.
Deborah eagerly helped Ernest with his takeaway, even attempting to open his cutlery.
Deborah and I responded simultaneously, with Deborah continuing to eat her cold chicken parmesan.
Watching her, I couldn't help but think how true the saying "love is blind" was.
Unable to bear the scene any longer, I picked up my food container to dispose of it, only to hear Deborah blurt out, "Mr. Collins, that bunny charm on your bag is so cute. Can you give it to me?"
I nearly tripped over my own feet at her boldness.
"No," Ernest's rejection was as clear as day.
I wasn't surprised, though I didn't need to see Deborah's face to feel her embarrassment. Even I was embarrassed for her.
Then, from behind, Ernest's voice rang out again. "I'm saving it for my girlfriend."
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