Love Me, Please
49. Ah, No

I shook my head as I walked towards the refrigerator. "There's no, Bi. I don't need anything else." Then I took a bottle of mineral water from the shelf on the refrigerator door. "Good night, Bi," I said as it passed.

"Good night, Non Nikita. Sweet dreams, yes, Non."

Ah, thankfully Mrs. Crane was already behind this back, so he didn't have time to see what was on my face now after hearing that sentence that was actually very innocent and commonly spoken. The meaning of the word sequence is so good, but ....

Ah, dreams.

At first glance I shook my head again, in my head when I imagined doing it with super duper strong and fast. I don't want to have a good dream, Bi. Because ....

What if what I'm asking for is a beautiful reality? Can, right?

***

After showering and changing clothes, then saying good night to Kayden through a message, I turned off the room lights and lay down. In solitude, surrounded by darkness, only the lights of the back garden outside entered through the gaps of the curtains, I finally got a chance to digest what happened this day.

At least chew on what happened in the park this afternoon.

Why is he acting like that? What did I say before?

.... "Because no one cares about your opinion here."

When memory successfully reconstructs the final part of our verbal ping-pong, and the brain manages to register the meaning contained in it, this fragile heart again falls.

What the hell happened to him?

Is he also ...?

Not likely. How could?

Wh why?

Oh, Beckham's.

Automatically my hand reached the phone on the nightstand, when no one ordered it. I don't understand what I'm doing myself. After opening a chat room with Beckham and typing a message, I was struck by something. Doubt suddenly struck. Send. No. gabe. Send. No. gabe. Send. No. gabe. Send no, huh?

But again something took over and made a decision for me. Send.

One message turned into a series of confessions.

Me : Hey Beck

Me : I'd like to apologize if I was wrong

Me: Actually not if it is

Me: I think it's my fault

Me : I was wrong

Me: judging from your reaction after hearing my words

Me: yeah?

Me : Sorry Beck

Me: once again I'm sorry

Me : I hope you will apologize to me

Me : so

Me : Are we still on for tomorrow?

Again and again consciousness is slow to come. I stared at the line of words I just sent. The screen instantly blurred in view. I quickly turned off the phone and put it back on the small table beside the bed. Unaware my hands shook. Either because of the nervousness or the adrenaline that I got after doing what I just did.

Oh, my God, what have I done? Why would I send such a message to her?

I reached again the device, intending to delete the messages that now seem very embarrassing. However, nothing compares to the sense of bera that whack when seeing the delivered sign in the message description has changed with read.

Oh. My. Freakings. God. Noooooooo!

****

Really fucking!

Because of those messages I couldn't fall asleep. My eyes were made to be blocked by a growing sense of anxiety. Why should I send that message? Why should I feel guilty? In fact, I don't know anything about Beckham's life. So, I don't know what to say and what not to say, do I?

Ah, you curious girl!

Can't I just let it stop there? To the point where I said those words, then he felt whatever he felt, and just left. Why should I interfere in other people's business? Why should I care about that damn thing?

Now look at the consequences. Enjoy for yourself what it's like to be held captive by curiosity at things you shouldn't think about.

At half-five in the morning I got out of bed and got ready. There is no hope of sleeping anymore. I'd rather just use the time to do something that has benefits.

Thirty minutes on the treadmill really does not have any effect on the mind that is wandering. The suffocating airway was unable to cast away Dom's shadow face that afternoon. This self is still focused on messages on mobile phones that have been read. Read only and unrequited.

Messages are read, but unrequited like this does create frustration!

The clock on the new phone shows at sixty forty-seven when I was inside the beauty. Instead of waiting for Kayden and drowning again in daydreaming, I decided to pick up my girlfriend to her house.

The Ford family residence right next to the Casa de Levine has become a second home for me because it doesn't feel like an exaggeration if I say that I grew up here with my girlfriend too. Because of this, I chose to circle the front yard and enter through the side door that was directly connected to the second kitchen.

The main kitchen is a room with super-complete cooking utensils used to prepare large-scale dishes, such as dinner for colleagues, located in the east wing of the building.

Justright. Aunt Liz was busy there with their maid.

"Good morning, Auntie," I said as I walked in without excuse.

The woman who was in her mid-forty years looked up. "Oh, my God! You!" hysterical shouting. He wiped his hands on the apron while running small towards me. Shortly after, we embraced. "Why just came now? Where have you been these two weeks? And, why so early in the morning? Are you okay, Honey?" With his hands still holding both shoulders, Mrs. Elizabeth Ford looked at me from head to toe. "Come, come. Here, sit. Aunty again makes breakfast for Om you who are fun playing tennis with her friends. Aunty made you too, huh? You still like Auntie's omelette, don't you?" leaning girl I know is Aunt Liz.

I chuckle. "Yes, still is, Auntie. New time a few days not here my taste immediately changed? It's not possible, dong."

"Eh, maybe-maybe, you know!" repelled. "Tante used to fit your age never had a favorite food. Everyone wants to try." Kalakian he started to snigger. His face was red.

Ah, we're no longer talking about food, aren't we?

To be continued ....