Glass [ENG]

16. "Why?"

The split-second heart attack was more than justified.

When my raging heart came to its senses, I turned around calmly, with a face that said definitively: "Do I look like I'm having fun?"

The girl standing in front of me changed her expression from combative and cool, to a little more surprised. After a while, however, she raised her eyebrow, shaking her head. Her hands were loose in the pockets of her shiny, black, puffy jacket. From behind the frames of her golden Lennon sunglasses flashed the coffee-tainted amusement.

"Well, well, well. You of all people?"

And while it was obvious that she wasn't too upset by what she saw, I was feeling stressed. To be honest, when my plan came to fruition, I wanted to go back to the apartment, closing a chapter, but, as usual, something had to get in the way. Something must have opened it up again, putting only higher obstacles in front of me.

This time, the obstacle was a Latina.

"What are you talking about, Valentia?" I asked calmly, fixing the bag on my shoulders as if nothing ever happened. I chose innocent role.

She narrowed her eyelids, definitely sensing a false note.

"I didn't see you at Britt's on Two Rulers' Day, then you weren't at work, let alone on the course, and now you're hooded in the parking lot and you happen to be standing next to a hissing tire?"

I lifted my glasses to rub my eyelids. Her insight seemed to tire me both mentally and physically.

"Seriously?" I put my glasses on my nose, looking more boldly at the Latina. "Your lives are so boring that you dig into mine? To exchange information about me and look for a catch in it as a way to spent your free time?"

Yes, stress and impatience were not a good combination. Especially while talking to Valentia.

"Are you surprised?" She fought back right away. She pointed at the tire of the car next to us. "The moment we start looking at you differently, you disappear from the face of the earth and do something like this!"

And that's when I noticed. The emotion suddenly escaping from her eyes.

Pain.

"Valentia." I turned to her calmly. I had her attention. "I'm not like-"

"You aren't like who, Glass?" She looked at me mockingly, overwhelmed by feelings that waited for their outlet in impatience. "Like our old friend?"

The last time we saw each other, she only hinted in general someone who definitely strained their trust. At the moment I saw first and foremost of all  h e r  trust. And I didn't need to know what that person was like. All I needed was a suggestion of a comparison. Just because I reminded her of Valentia.

"I don't work at the club anymore. And I no longer go to the course," I threw out of myself, feeling an ache in the chest, extremely frequent these days. "You don't have to trust me, because I'm no longer with you."

After my words, Valentia didn't say anything for a long moment. She stared at me blankly, taking deep, emotion-filled breaths. She kept her hands along her body, and her face said absolutely nothing.

And when she finally got back to me, asking me a question, I had no idea how to answer it.

"Then why are you here?"

And I didn't have to answer, because another rustling step nearby interrupted our conversation. Knowing that no one would approach the car next to us again, I hid behind it, unknowingly pulling Valentia by the sleeve of her jacket.

"What are you-"

"You want to be charged with property damage?" I whispered nervously, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, and then she muttered under her nose: "no."

"I thought so."

And once again trapped, this time with a Latina, with no way to escape unnoticed, I had no choice but to listen and observe the arrivals.

Without any sound of heels, the steps moved from the grass to the asphalt. There was also no sign of amusement, not even the quietest, short laugh. Conversations were almost whispers. The Latina tilted her head, noticing some shapes.

"Tell me you didn't poke the tires of that black pickup truck..."

Looking suddenly where Valentia had looked before, the answer left my lips, hitting reality.

"I did."

Because the aforementioned car, well known to me, was approached by several people, including one, red-haired girl, who was primarily my target. Dressed in her true, dark, street, urban style.

When I looked at her, my blood pressure seemed to rise and fall drastically at the same time. With a slow step, she grabbed the car keys, looking over the shoulder, at the forest. Others waited for the distinctive sound of the door unlocking while she was still waiting for something.

It wasn't until the sound of heels that I realized for what exactly. Or rather, for whom.

I didn't see her well in the slowly darkening street, but the fluffy, curly brown hair and the glaring blue of her eyes I would recognize anywhere.

The hint of betrayal didn't go away after what seemed like an eternity.

"Why did you puncture some gang's tires?" Valentia couldn't resist the curiosity audible in her voice.

"It's not a gang."

And so, it wasn't. Estera and her friends were just... from a completely different social stratum.

Valentia's eyes told me she wouldn't have gone down easy. But something beyond determination and curiosity crept into her face, making it harder for me to say anything.

Then I looked at the girl again, feeling that lump in my throat. I saw her get in the car with the others. She didn't look worried or concerned, which, instead of making me angry or mad... it left a question mark in my head.

The headlights lit up the street, and after a few moments the black pickup turned around and drove away in the opposite direction from us. When it became almost invisible to us, I got up from an uncomfortable crouch. I took off my hood, looking down the street like I was making sure the car was gone for good.

And I expected that when that happened, Valentia would shock me with her curiosity of her coffee-like eyes. But all she did was take a moment to look at it, and then she sighed and moved from her spot. As she passed me, she patted my arm uncharacteristically, saying:

"Come on, I'll drive you."

And I couldn't find the words to object. I took one last look at the street, then slowly followed the Latina, lost in my thoughts.