Rose Petals In A Jar

It scared me that my imagination field was slowly fading away.
Everywhere I went, I'd at least hear one adult talking about that kid who could be the future Picasso of our century - their words, not mine.

I have never once complaint & whined, "What about me?" even though I'm already a blooming 16 year old, the true age of teen rebellion.

My mom was encouraging me to breathe art. That's what single moms do, right?
Support their kid, partly out of guilt, & in their free time, date strange men?

Which was how I ended up at this school for the talented generation.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mom for, you know, thinking of me & all.
But I couldn't help feeling... A little offended.

I may not be a freaking kid Picasso but I'm good at what I do.
I know that.

I found the teachers very perky - way too perky to teach the beautiful works of the arts.

I could still remember that special day.
I was on my way to my favorite class, sketching.
Pottery, glass painting, sculpting weren't exactly my thing.

All I needed was a piece of paper & a pencil & voila!
I'm all set.

Which kinda explained why I was so busy doodling in my sketchbook, my most precious possession - even more precious than my hand phone (which is officially missing) - that I managed to bump into him.

I remembered the first time I took him in. He was a true work of art, the first thought that came to mind.
I mean it.

Light, sandy brown hair slightly ruffled with a total contrast with those beautiful hazel eyes.
You know the kind. The kind which sometimes look greenish, sometimes brownish..

His lips was one of the first features I was slightly attracted to. It looked as if it was always fixed in a permanent scowl but when he glanced at me, that first time, he smiled.

"Sorry! Oh God..." I said as he got up.

I had to lift my head to see him.
He was, I noticed, tall.
Very tall.

That & he had the broadest shoulders I had ever seen.
It was as if someone had molded him to perfection, as lame as that sounded.

He held out his hand for me & I reached out for it.
Not only was he incredibly, well, hot, he was also very strong.

As if pulling up a girl who weighed 52kg single-handedly was no big deal.

I was so dazed with all these obvious observations about him that my inky pen made an inky stain on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Dammit! I'm sorry! God, I don't know what's happening to me today. Seriously." I muttered & made a vain attempt to fix his shirt.

& I really didn't. I was not the clumsy chick who petered over guys.
I was too occupied with the sketching.

"Nah, it's okay. It looks cool actually." he said, his voice deep & low.
He examined the ink stain with fascination.

I looked up & knew that he was right.

The black ink stain gave a contrast with the gray hoodie & it also looked like a splat! so it did look cool, in a way.

"So... Lemme guess. You're a sketcher?" he smirked, his hands casually in his jeans pocket.
I smiled at him. "Is it that obvious?"
He held out his ink-stained sleeve & pointed at my notebook I was clutching with a smile on his face.

"& you're on your way to sketch class?"
I nodded, dumbfounded. How did he know?
"& you're a detective?" I asked as we begin walking to our class.

He smiled. "Hmm... Detective Nick... I like it."

Oh, so he's Nick?

Why was he name so familiar?

"Mr. Nicholas & Ms Elizabeth. nice of you to join us." the sketch teacher, Mr Nobleson said.
"Pleasure." Nick bowed & sat down a desk behind me.

So began the lectures & so-called inspiring pep-talk about the beauty of art.
It wasn't like I'm not agreeing to all of this. It's just that the way he said it.
Mr Nobleson has that voice which just seemed to drone on & on...

I mean, seriously. There should be some sort of law, stating that boring guys are not allowed to talk about something as... Well, something as delicate like art.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, he gave us our assignments.

That was a toughie. Though Mr Nobleson was a pretty boring guy, his assignments are always interesting.

Anyway, there were so many things which made me ponder.

He gave us a week to finish it.
As soon as he dismissed us, Nick came by my side.

"So, if I recall, you're a sketcher." he said casually.
"Mm."
"So sketchers have a phone & an e-mail add?"
I looked up & saw him peering down at me.

Smiling, I grabbed his right hand from his pocket & wrote it down.

"lizbeth_arty@inspired.com?" he smiled even more.
"Hey, at least you'll know it's me." I smiled back & walked away.







The first thing I did was switching on my computer - a Mac, of course.
I was doodling nervously like mad on my notebook - odd, wispy swirls with little flowers blooming stage by stage.

You should know that whatever I drew was reflecting on how my mood was.

So I was a little thrown aback when I saw that... Romantic drawing.
Normally, if I was in an okay mood, I'd draw waves lapping at sand, or maybe even grass, I forgot.

Or if I'm angry I'd draw flames spikey, playing with the smoke in the wind howling with rage.

Whatever. You get the picture.

But why was I drawing little flowers with the swirls, which I'm guessing were leaves?

I didn't have time to think of that because I heard the sound of the beloved ding! of my Mac Messenger signed in.

The first thing I saw was a pop-up window which read :

'smokesintheair90@freemail.com has added you to his/her list'

Obviously, I clicked the 'Add him/her' option because I knew it was Nick.
Hmm... Wait... If he was born in 1990, that'd mean he's...

Ding!

A convo window popped up in my face.
I smiled. It was Nick.

Blurred Mirrors says : Hey
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Hey
Blurred Mirrors says : Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL yup. That... Well, it's a dream
Blurred Mirrors says : Of rose petals in a jar? Hmm... Not your boyfriend?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Boyfriend? What boyfriend?
Blurred Mirrors says : So... Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Yup
Blurred Mirrors says : Care to explain that to me in... 5 mins?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Not now?
Blurred Mirrors says : Nope I can't run that fast
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL

Wait... Did he just ask me out?

Okay, Liz. Keep your cool.

Blurred Mirrors says : See you at the Avenue Park

You cannot send any messages as he/she appears to be offline.











You have no right to laugh at me when I say that that was most probably the first time I was meeting a guy alone.
I mean, asides my dad but that was when I still loved Barney the purple dinosaur.

I threw on a dark purple long-sleeved shirt, my favorite scarf & beanie & I was off.

As I was running, I saw Nick sitting on a bench casually, talking to an adult figure next to him.
He looked up & saw me walking towards him.

He said something to the adult after signing something & saying goodbye. I plopped down next to him.

"Hey." he said.
"Hey. Who was that?" I asked.
"Um, some guy." he said, waving his hand.

Was it my imagination or was he... Blushing?

"So... Care for a walk?" he said chivalrously.
"That'd be nice." I said.






"Why rose petals in a jar?" he asked me after a minute of silence.
"Want the full story or cut it short?" I asked.
"We have a whole park to walk around. Take your time." he said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets.
I smiled at him, which I thought stupid since it was kinda dark if not for the full moon.

"Well... I had a dream." I said after taking a deep breath.
"You said that."

Why did he sound so amused?

"Just promise me that you won't laugh." I warned him.
He nodded.

"I was walking. Running. Whatever I was doing, I was moving around some empty place. Suddenly, it was raining rose petals."
I shot him a glare just in case he was pretending not to laugh but actually he was already smirking.

He wasn't. His face was so serious, so still.

"There were so many." I continued, encouraged by him taking me seriously for once. "So many soft petals falling about from the sky. & I had a thought to myself, why waste such beauty when one could capture it? So I had du out a jar & ran everywhere, trying to collect the most rose petals."

We stopped walking. We were a few feet away from the gate.

"You can stop laughing now." I said, still not looking at him.
I took in a deep breath before mustering all the courage I had to look at him.

He was deadpan serious. He was even thinking about what I said.
I didn't know why but my heart was just, like, filled with something. Something I can't describe in words.

I never had someone taking me so seriously before. Usually, they'd think of me either as:

a) The freak stuck in her own little, itty-bitty world of doodles

or

b) The joker Liz

But never someone who had thoughts.
That was what Nick made me feel. A person who has ideas.
& he was the first one to listen to it.

"I'm not laughing." he finally said, gravity pulling him back down to planet Earth.
I gave him a half-smile.

"Actually... That was really unique. Rose petals in a jar... I like it." he finally smiled.

My heart was beating so fast, probably because, well, he listened.

"You know what I thought that sentence meant? At first?" he asked me.
"Hmm?"
"I thought it meant you were trying to trap love inside. Or maybe keep it for yourself, so that if you ever felt a little heartbroken, you'd take another piece to mend it. I dunno. Now you don't laugh." he said, giving a small laugh.

I thought about that.
It was good. I mean, if you looked at it in another perspective.
Rose does represent love if you knew the secret languages of flowers.

"I'm not laughing." I said since I realized he was peering down at me.

We were walking silently once again until he asked me, "How come I haven't seen you around before?"
"Mmm... Just transferred." I shrugged. "It'd be hard to miss me, you know." I joked.
"I know." he said, his voice soft.

So soft I had to turn around & was trapped at the depth of his greenish, brownish eyes, so hypnotising.

I was in a trance, not noticing the wind getting mercilessly stronger.

"Hey. You could catch a cold." he said & took off his scarf & wrapped it around my neck.

One hand was on the scarf, the other placed at the small of my back.

He pulled me closer & the next thing I knew, we were kissing.

For the past few days, I began hanging out with Nick.

Okay, maybe 'hanging out is too casual of a word. Maybe the right word here is, well...

Dating.

After school, he'd walk me back to my house, kiss on the front porch.

If we had enough time, we'd walk around the park & talk about, well...

About nearly anything.

I told him about my worries of losing my imagination, myself.

Growing up.

& I even admit, to a certain point, that I was feeling a little too envious towards the mysterious kid Piccasso

I haven't laid eyes on his-slash-her artworks, but I have met his-slash-her fans.

He told me that his parents keep pushing him to the limit, to be better than he already was.

I was kind of shocked to hear it because he was brilliant in art - if you had taken a look at any of his artwork, you would be satisfied enough.

I had voiced out my thoughts but he merely smiled, which only made me kiss him even more.

It was heaven.

Those days were pure, utter heaven.

Until one day. The day.

We were walking in the park, as usual.

By then, the sky was already brimming to a dark indigo for a night sky after the sunset.

We past an elderly man, who, I noticed, stop in his tracks as Nick & I passed.

He nearly ran after us & if it wasn't for the fact that he had been yelling Nick's name, we wouldn't have noticed him at all.

Nick turned around to the man & said, "Yes, may I help you?"

He's so polite.

"Yes." the man said - well, no, he sort of panted. "I was wondering... Aren't you Nicholas Landon, the boy painter?"
I was very tempted to say Well, Duh because Nick was the best painter I had ever known.
But I kept my mouth shut as I felt his hand clamp tight over mine.

"You know... The one who was on the news the other day? Oh! Remember? You had an interview in the Daily Dateline newspaper? What was the article again...? Ah, Miracle Kid Painter. The future Picasso!" the man said, getting excited by the minute.

& that's when it hit me.
That's when an invisible puzzle just suddenly appears in front of me & solve itself.

That was why, I realized, Nick looked, sounded so familiar.
I read that article a few days before I met him.

I still remembered my fits I threw in my room silently.

It wasn't because I saw him in my dreams, I thought in my head.
Ha! No, it's because he was the boy from my nightmares.

He's the freaking kid Picasso.

I snatched my hand away from his the minute his grip on mine tightened.
Not only that, I ran away.

Not even bothering to give a quick glance at his face.










I avoided contact with him for nearly 3 days in every possible way of communication.
I screened his calls, blocked him online, got my mom to tell him that I was busy when he called the house phone.

On the third day, my mom entered my room to 'borrow my comb'.
A sign that I have come to recognize that she wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

"Anything wrong, Lizzy?" she said just as she reached the doorway out of my room.

& just when I looked at my mom's face, seeing the hint of concern painted all over her face, it all came out.
Everything.

About how familiar he looked to me, even though I knew that I had never seen him before.
About us talking.
About how hurt I felt when I found out who he really was.

Finally, when everything - & I do mean everything - was out in the open, my mom did something she hadn't done for a long time.
She hugged me, telling me to cry it all out.

Which I did.




Having your heart broken, I thought, was one thing.
Going to school with a broken heart was another.

Although my mom had shown me the caring, therapist side of her, she didn't let me get off the hook.
I still had to go to school ("Broken hearted or not." my mom added).

I didn't want to go to school. All I wanted to do was just stay at home & sketch.
Probably something fiery, I thought.

As I was walking down the hallway to my locker, I was already picturing how my doodle would turn out.
Probably a tinge between furious spikes & gentle lines.

& it'd be a shade of gray. A normal shade.
I could imagine it as a serene, gray sunset, the wispy lines the clouds, the spikes the lines of the setting sun.

I was so dazed of the picture I beautifully pictured that I didn't realze that I had already opened the locker door.
Just as I reached for my text books (yes, there were text books for art schools, like The Visual Arts & History of Artworks), something caught my eye.

A jar.
I already knew what it was before I even looked at it but I took it out anyway.

It was a jar filled with...

Rose petals.

Tears were stinging my eyes but I didn't want to cry.
Not in public, anyway.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

Along the jar, there was a sticky note stuck on the front of the jar.

Captured beauty.
See ya in class.

- Nick

Well, even though I was still ticked off with him, I couldn't help but grin.
The guy could still joke around even if he knew he was in hot water.

I kept the jar inside my back pack, don't ask me why.
As a keepsake?

"Class, settle down. Class." Mr Nobleson's voice drawled.
I blinked & looked at the doodle I, well, doodled.

Wow, was the first thought that popped into my head.

What I saw was something... Well, something different.
No wispy lines.
No furious spikes.
No blue - um, so to speak - waves.

Nothing.

I can't exactly describe it but what I saw there on that paper was a blank.
Don't get me wrong, there's definitely some doodle on the paper.

But it was just so void of emotion. It's just...
Empty.

But I didn't have the time to find out what the doodles told me of my moods since Mr Nobleson banged on the table for silence.

The class settled down a few minutes later & he asked primly, "Well, who would like to present their project?"

Project..?
What proj-

Damn!
The project.

The what inspires you most project.

Dammit, I forgot!
All because I was hanging around with Nick.

Speaking of the devil, he entered the room at the exact moment & quietly sat down behind me.
I tried to ignore his presence.

Um, in vain.

"Any volunteers? Anyone? No? No one? Well then, we sh-" Mr Nobleson cut himself off, which meant that he found the volunteer.

The brave soul.

"Ah, how very kind of you, Mr Nicholas." the teacher said & sat back behind his desk.

I turned around so quickly that I could have sworn I heard my neck cracked.
Yet it didn't hurt.

His face was filled with that normal scowl of his but when he looked at me, the scowl momentarily vanished & he winked at me as he walked his way to the front of the class.

He winked!

Ugh.
I was so disgusted with myself when I felt all excited that he winked.
At me.

"& the one thing that inspires me the most..." he said mysteriously as he slowly opened his masterpiece.

The room was silent until I gasped.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

What I could make out was the back of someone - a girl, obviously since the hair was very long - & she seemed to look far away.
The artist managed to paint in all the fine details, such as the imperfect hair, frizzy at all the wrong places & even the way her elbow jutted out of the desk.

It was so brilliant. So beautiful.

& that was when I realized why he was such a genius.
Such a kid Picasso.

It wasn't because of his talent, the minor details filling the page - well, I mean, it is but partly.
Mainly, it was because of his passion.

His passion to paint. That's why he was so well-known.
That piece was just filled with so much passion that you could already tell at one glance that it was effortless for him.

Mr Nobleson took of his glasses in amazement & patted Nick on the shoulder, compliments flowing from his mouth like a flood broke from a leaking dam.

I couldn't help but notice the wince within Nick's smile.








The dismissal bell rang.

As I closed my locker door just to have a quick peek at my jar, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Nick's smirking face from nowhere.

"Hey." he said.
"Hey." I said. "I liked your artwork."
He shifted his gaze uncomfortably.

We were already walking out of school.

"Now I guess I know why you're the kid Picasso." I admitted as he kept quiet.
"Ngh." he grunted.
"I don't understand why you couldn't have just told me."
"Because! You talk about him as if he was your sworn enemy. I don't want to be your sworn enemy. I want to be-"

"Excuse me?" An elderly man said as he peered up to Nick's face.
"Are you Nicholas Landon, the child prodigy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." Nick said politely, but in a snappish kind of way.
"In fact, I'm not only the great child prodigy, I also happen to be with one of the most brilliant teen artist. See this girl next to me? She happens to be the world's greatest sketcher of all time! I could show you her artwork one day, sir."

& with a nod, he left the poor guy & we were walking ahead.

"You were saying?" I said quietly, trying my best not to laugh.
"Oh? Was I saying something?" Nick asked.
I swattered his shoulder.

He was so sweet, so cute, so talented.
So unbelievably perfect.

"Thanks. For that." I muttered when I remembered the previous scene.
"Aw, it's nothing." he said uncomfortably.

Guys always get uncomfortable whenever called 'sweet'.
They also get uncomfortable when around weepy women.

Yes, I was about to cry.

"You're my Picasso." I smiled as he bent down to kiss me in the park.










I'm now doodling on my notebook while chatting to Nick online.
He's typing nonsense.
Sweet nonsense.

Guess what?

My desk is practically full.
I mean, what with all my sketches - not to mention with the dozens of sketches Nick drew - along with an equal amount of jars filled with rose petals, only in different colors.

But my most favorite & precious treasure?
The portrait of that girl, staring out with his tiny signature on the right-hand corner.

Three words

"Aah!" I shriek as the feeling of cold water trickle down my back.

It's no joke wearing a two-piece when some guy pours water down your back.

"Dave!" I say, chasing after him.
He looks over his shoulder, lets out a laugh & dives into the pool, swimming to the other end of the pool. I dive in & swim after him.

I finally manage to catch up & grab onto Dave's ankle. I tug it & he tries to kick.
I pull him down under water with me.
His light hair was floating around his head & he sticks his tongue out at me.

Right after that, he goes above the surface, me following his lead.
I could hear him gulping a big breath of air to start his race all over again.

My cousin, Josh & his girlfriend, Marsh are currently making out behind the trees, I know. They always go there when they 'excuse themselves'.

One is to make out. The second reason is because they want to leave me alone with Dave. For a weird reason, they think we 'connect'.
Please. We connected.

He's my ex. Unlike all the other ex-couples in the History of Exes, we are the odd one out.
We're not bitter toward each other - we always hang out at the pool or somewhere else.

It was depressing knowing that we aren't going to go on a date again because, like I said. We broke up.
Who goes back with their exes? I mean, that's totally against all rules of... Well, something.

I finally give up chasing after him - you would too after trying to chase a champ swimmer - & lounge at the curve of the pool, watching him get up & shaking the water out of his moppy brown hair.

He catches me looking at him but I turn away quickly enough to look down at my feet, playing with the water ripples.
From across the pool, he calls out my name & gives me a sign to call him.

I nod & give the thumbs up.

He smiles & walks away, out of my sight, out of my reach.











What sucks about hanging out with your ex is that it gives off the vibe that I'm still in love with her, Jamelia - or as I called her, Jamie.
What sucks even more is that... It's true.

I get up & leave the pool, after reminding Jamie.
I pass the rows of tall trees, a perfect make-out location. I hear breathy sighs & heavy breathings. As I pass it, I say, "See ya, guys."









"My little Davey is going for a date!" my mom coos as she sees me put on a Polo shirt.
"Mooooooom!" I groan, trying to make her stop the cooing.
"But it's true! You're going here & there, as if a tornado might struck. Davey, are you late for your date with Jamelia?"

Yea, my mom didn't know that we broke up - she's pretty old-fashioned. I mean, she's happy when I go out but she thinks that if you see a person longer than 2 months, we're officially married or something.
Which is why I get nervous when she passes tux shops & stop to gaze at it for awhile & glance back at me.

"Yea, mom. I'm late." I said exasperatedly.

Of course that woman can tell I'm late since I just came out of the shower & went straight to my closet to get something & started to practice the speech I'd say to her later with the mirror.

"Ciao, Mom!" I say after one last check & run out of the door.










"Jamie, it's for you!" my mom sings.
"Coming." I say & wish that my hair isn't so hard to groom.

I've nearly finish the conditioning, so all I have to do is comb my hair & put on a little more Chanel & I'm ready.
I pass a quick glance at the clock & realize that he's late.

Smiling, I remember the times when he always comes to the my front porch late.
But, then again... I wasn't done yet myself.

My parents doesn't know that we broke up. I sorta feel guilty at times for not telling them but he's kind of the first guy I've introduced to them & it took them a month to trust him.

If I say anything about me not being with him, my parents'd give me this life-long lecture about how boys are not meant to be toys & all that.
Seriously. You'd think that being celebs' personal therapists, my parents would be a little bit more understanding.

Anyway, I am being all stressed on not tripping on my - I quote from my mom - floor-sweeping dress down the stairs.
But for all the worry & stress in the world, personally, I think it is totally worth it.

He's there, like I said, looking so, so hot in that familiar no-tie-casual tux, panting - probably from the running.
His hair is still damp & ruffled, but I could tell he tried to comb it with his fingers - he hasn't change since.

I know that he must've been running late since he didn't have time to dry his hair, let alone comb it.
& he still looks so, so cute.

"Hi." he pants.
"Hi." I smile.

A flash suddenly goes off & I blink at the source, which is my mom humiliating me with a dinosaur-era-looking camera.

Geesh. It isn't like it's my first date, you know.
It isn't even a date (much to my chagrin).













I stare at her, who looks nearly as gorgeous as she does in a swimsuit - nearly.
The candle's flame is flickering between us, giving us this romantic atmosphere.

Which isn't the kind of atmosphere one normally wants for a break-up anniversary with their ex.

"So..." I say, clearing my throat.
"So...?" she smiles a small smile.

It's one of those things we did as a couple. I mean, hard to believe that I used to be really shy around her.
Then again, I was only thirteen at the time.

We barely talked in public but we smiled a lot. She made me smile.
One of the things I love about her.









It's half past nine as we walk under the moonlit park.
We aren't holding hands like we used to.

But we're walking side-by-side. Except he was walking a little further behind.

"Dave..." I call out softly.
"Mm?" he says behind me.
"Why did we break up?"

Silence. The worst kind of silence - awkward silence.

"You never said it, you know." he says as the silence passed.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what it was.
It was... Those three special words couples always say.

You know... The one which always involves the word love between I & you..

"I always did, but you never. Said it, I mean." he continues.
"I know."

I really did. I could still remember that first night he said it - he called & whispered I love you through the phone line.
I was speechless & just hung at the sentence "I..."

It's not because I don't, you know. It's because in those touching movies, especially the Walt Disney kind, the hero & heroine would look deeply into each other's eyes, say I love you & begin the passionate kiss.

I want that. I mean, genuinely & sincerely.
I don't want to be one of those couples who say I love you only because it was a hormonal thing.
I want to say it first & mean it, you know?
Yes, I believe in sincerity.










"Why do you tell me this now?" she asks in a quiet voice, not so much as a glance back.
"What do you mean why do I tell you this now?! I always told you!" I say, furious.

Where had she been the past few weeks after the break-up? Pluto?
Were my discretion too discreet?

"You just chose not to listen." I say, my voice softening because we never argue.
& also because we're in a public place at night - & people are trying to sleep.

"No, you chose to keep it yourself!" she yells.
"What?" I say. Not because I couldn't hear her - well, obviously it isn't because of that - but because she is yelling at me.
"You heard. You didn't tell me about this. If you did, I could've apologized at least!" she yells again.

I am resisting the urge to check her temperature. Is she on a high?!
She is putting the blame on me for not telling her when, may I recap, I kept asking her about it!

& suddenly, just suddenly, she bursts into tears.









"Maybe we should go back home." he says, looking down at me.
I sniff. He's being nice to me.

Same ol' nice Dave. That's the Dave I know.
I like.
I lo-

"Yea, maybe we should." I say.

The rest of the walk's plain awkward. The kind where you just rather jump off a cliff then walking alongside your ex in a park in total silence.



We reach my porch & he clears his throat, says goodnight & left me standing there.

& I watch him walk away.












We haven't talked since that night. It's so awkward that even Josh & Marsh notice it.
They keep trying to make us talk but we just keep looking at anything - anything but each other.

"Well... I'll see you guys, kay? I've got some chores to do." Marsh says & we wave back at her.
"Hmm, you know, I think this is a good time to clean my room? Chiao." I say & walk away.

So shoot me. Lamest excuse I've given in my whole life.







"Hey, Josh..." I say.
"Mm?"
"How did you know Marsh's the One?" I ask.

He chokes on his Coke. Can't say I blame him.
I mean, hello, I'm guessing that it was a leetle bit too personal.

But we're cousins of the same age. Different gender, maybe.
But that's probably why I asked him, not Marsh.

I wanna hear it from their view.

"Well..." he clears his throat. "Lemme ask you three questions, & you answer them, alright?"
I nod.

"What do you feel when you see Dave?" he asks.

I blush. Am I that obvious?
Are we that obvious?

"Tell anyone & I swear I'll tell Marsh about your geeky Power Rangers collection." I glare at him & he laughs, "Alright, alright. Now answer my question!"
"Well... I feel... I dunno, happy. Like the world's okay."
"Okay, next question : Who's the first person you'd think of when you have a problem?"
"Dave." I say automatically & immediately clap my hands on my mouth.

God, why am I so pathetic??? It's the least I could do but to slap my face back to reality.

"& finally... Are you always thinking of what to do when you're with Dave?"
"Yea! That's totally how I feel!"

"Okay, now lemme tell you what these all mean : I feel all this about Marsh. I always feel happy seeing her, I always tell her my problems & I always get this paranoia of doing something stupid in front of her. That's how I feel. So good luck with Dave."

He winks & leaves me thinking.



"Um, miss? Miss?" a voice says.
I look up & saw a blonde guy smiling at me.
"Oh, hey, Brad." I said casually.

Brad's the waiter working at the cafe at Level 6, near the pool area. He's cool, a uni-student. Went out with him once but he wasn't my type.
So I'm kinda close with him. He's like my third closest guy friend, after Dave & Josh, of course.

We're making small talk & he's telling me about his problems with his on & off girlfriend - I dunno, some chick who keeps boffing off with his best friend or something. The details are pure soap opera material, I swear.
So, as a good friend should, I calm him down & advice him that maybe his girlfriend's just not committed while he's cleaning the tables & collecting tips from the customers.

As the cafe empties, we're all alone, still talking.

I turn my back just for a second - a second - & kept going, "Uhhuh. Yea" each time Brad pause his story to pick up the fork left on the floor. For some reason, Brad stops talking & I feel that something's wrong.
I turn around & saw Dave, glaring murderously at Brad, God knows why.

One second, Brad was standing on his feet. The next, he's on the floor after Dave gives a punch at the jaw.
Dave's standing at his feet, breathing heavily like he was fighting the most important war the world depends on.

I'm walking towards Brad, saying, "Oh my God! Dave! Brad? Are you alright?"
Dave stops me & grabs me by the wrist, dragging me to a secluded area, leaving Dave & his bleeding nose on the floor.

As we reach a shady place at a corner of the 'A' block, I snatch my wrist away from his grasp & half-shriek, "Dave! What's wrong with you?! Why're you acting all weird? Why did you punch Brad?!"
He looks at me in the eye & there's something about that look that just makes me want to run away. Something so... Intense going on in his head.

He's silent & keeps staring at me with that intense look.
I look away from his eyes - those hypnotic eyes - & run my gaze across his clenched fist by his side.

"Dave! Your hand... Oh God, Dave." I sigh & it's my turn now to drag him to the tap that's always at each corner of the block.

I run the water on his hand & begins the nagging.
"Dave, why did you punch Brad? You know, I can't believe you'd do something like that! & look, you could've injured your hand. Look at your skin, Dave! God, don't be so irresponsible. I mean, seriously."

Seriously. His fist's red & raw, the knuckles white because he's clenching his fist tightly as I gently massage it under the rush of the water.

But I didn't stop the nagging. Ohh no, I'm so not done with him yet.

"... See? You've been watching too much of NYPD. Don't do those kind of punching acts, acting as if you're saving me from God knows what! Thank God you didn't fracture your hand or I-"

I didn't get to continue my nagging because at that moment, he grabs me by the shoulders, cups my face with both his hands - including the swollen one - & kisses me.

Dave, my ex-boyfriend, who I had been dating for nearly 3 years, is kissing me.
& I'm kissing him back as I close my eyes.

& this rush of memories floods into my brain, snapshots of us together at the pool, at the squash court...
Us together.

& then, the most horrid memory crashes into my sight.

I was yelling at him, he was yelling at me. The threatening tears were stinging my eyes, I remembered.
& just like that, he got out of the pool, dried himself with the towel & left me there.


I opened my eyes & realize that his hands are at my waist, holding onto me as if he doesn't want to let go.
& me guilty with charge of running my fingers through his hair like I always wanted to.

I push him away, though the bigger part of me protests & he staggers away.

"Wh-what?" he says raggedly.
"No. We can't do this. We broke up." I say, shaking my head.

I'm not risking the level of looking at him. Because if I do, I know I'm going to lose it.

"Why won't you say it? Why won't you just say it?" he says, his temper getting the best of him.
I keep silent but he goes on.

"You know, when you broke up with me, at the pool, I thought that there, at that spot, I'll start distancing myself away. But no, you keep dragging me in. Dragging me into this whirlwind, this... This... Geez, Jamie! I thought that at that moment, I'll start hating you. I planned it all. I kept telling myself I'll find a new girl, someone more... More there for me. But you just can't see that I'm trying my best to start over. & you make me - hell, no. Remind me the reasons why I like you, why I lo-"
"Don't say it!" I scream in a whisper.
"Why are you so afraid of those three words, Jamie?" he says huskily. "Three simple words."
"Because... Because..."

& it all spills out, like lava erupting from a volcano. I can't take it anymore. I really can't.

"... & the worst is, I want to mean it. I want to really mean it. But I've never said it before. Not to anyone, not to my mom, nada. & face fact, you broke up with me, remember?" I say.
He looks at me as if he really wants to hit me, only he can't because I'm a girl.
"You broke up with me, querida."

Damn him & his stupid Spanish lessons.

"How can I break up with someone when I just love him?!" I scream.

He gapes at me with astonishment, like he's dreaming.
I can't believe it. I said it.

I said it.

He drags me & our faces are now inches away, his lips on mine.

"Now. Was that so hard?" he says against my lips.















"DAVE!!" I yell as the cold water trickle down my back.
He laughs & runs away, doing laps around the pool.

I swim after him & catch him, tugging on his ankle.

I finally caught him.







She caught me. I lift her with my ankle & pull her hand with mine.

"You caught the wanted. Here's the reward." I say & give it to her.

I hear someone laughing - correction, two someones - & turn around, her in my arms, her hands around my neck.

"Get a room!" Josh laughs & I stick a tongue at the two.
"Right back atcha, bud!" I wink & get out of the pool, Jamie behind me.

I pass the cafe with her & see Brad, that waiter guy, waiting on people.
He's got a bandage on the bridge of his nose.

I enter the cafe & apologized to him.

He looks at me & notice my hand around her shoulders, hers around my waist.

He gives a wink at Jamie & walks away, giving me a nod.







"What was that all about?" Dave asks me as soon as we left the cafe.
"Nothing." I say innocently.

I did mention that I confide everything to Brad like he does me?

"Hey, where are we going?" I ask.
"Somewhere." he says innocently, mocking my tone.

I mock-punched him & he laughs & I chase him.

He leads me to a familiar secluded corner at a familiar block, near a tap.







It's getting hot & heavy. Her fingers are running through my hair, my fingers are roaming at the collar bone area.
We get up for air & a familiar - too familiar - voice pass us & whispers, "Bye, guys."