Broken Strings (18+)

03

“It’s nothing, Mischa. Thanks for having lunch with me.” He was looking at me so intently, like I was a specimen under his microscope. I suddenly felt uncomfortable and looked down. I started to eat again. I subtly looked at him again and he was no longer looking at me. He was now eating and enjoying this dish. It’s really his favorite, huh?

I was totally stuffed. I excused myself to go to the restroom. Sebastian even offerred to accompany me, but I politely declined. He has done too much for me already.

As if something was pulling my eyes to a certain direction, I looked straight ahead even though the restrooms were on my left. The guy at the farthest table seemed too familiar. I could only see his muscular back and his messy hair, but I knew it was Storm. He was wearing the gray Nike dry-fit shirt that I gave him when they won the tournament in Japan. What is he doing here?

My eyes moved onto the person sitting across Storm – a woman. She’s… Danielle Zamora. She was my classmate in high school. I have read in the newspaper that she’s now a renowned contemporary artist in Asia. I thought she was already living abroad. What is she doing here?

What is my boyfriend doing with her? As far as I know, they didn’t exist in each other’s lives. Heck, Danielle was almost inexistent in high school. She was never anyone’s friend. Did Storm even know she went to our school?

It was my first time to watch Storm’s game as his girlfriend. I was wearing his spare away uniform, proudly cheering for our team—for him. They won against LHS, 2-0. Both goals were made by my boyfriend. I knew I was his lucky charm.

I saw him walking toward me. I grabbed a face towel and a bottle of water. But when he was finally in front of me, I forgot what I had to do. Instead, I clung to his nape and kissed him on the lips. “Congrats, honey! Nice game.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I guess it was really tiring to play soccer. He looked like all his energy was sucked out of him.

His teammates called us for some pizza. It was their coach’s idea of a celebration.

Storm put a slice on a paper plate and gave it to me. He got me a glass of Coke too. We were eating when he spoke, “Hey, honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s this girl from your class… the one who had chicken pox…”

“Danielle,” I supplied the name of the girl he was talking about.

“Yeah. D-danielle. Is she well now?” Storm sounded… concerned. Why would he be?

I drank some Coke before answering. “No, she’s still sick. Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing. I’m just afraid she’ll come to class not fully recovered,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t want you catching it. We’re in our last year, and it’s a hassle if you get sick.”

I touched his face and stroked his cheek. “Thanks for the concern, honey. But you don’t have to worry, I already had it when I was six.”

 

Here I was, thinking that he couldn’t contact me because he was busy with soccer, giving him space even though I wanted to hear his voice so badly. Then I’d find him eating lunch with Danielle. How could he meet up with some other woman without telling me? Storm used to be so open with me – telling me everything even if I didn’t ask. But now… is he hiding something from me?

I felt a pair of warm hands on my shoulders. I automatically tensed up. “Hey, were you lost?” It was Sebastian.

I absentmindedly shook my head. “Oh. So you found what you’re looking for. That’s good.” No, Sebastian. I found something else. And I definitely wasn’t looking for it. It might have been better if I didn’t see it. Then I wouldn’t be overthinking like what I’m doing now.

He gently turned me to face him. “What’s wrong, Mischa? You look pale.” I shook my head again. I couldn’t find my voice. I just wanted to shut myself down. I wanted to stop thinking or feeling. But no, I had lost control of my now-hyperactive senses. They’re taking over my being and I hate it.

I felt the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re hot, Mischa. Let’s get you home, so you can rest.” He carefully guided me out of the cafeteria and into his car.

Sebastian was driving at a fast but regulated speed. I could sense his urgency, but his control prevailed. He had a clear mind and was still responsible enough. I sighed in relief.

From time to time, he would look at me worriedly, then back to the road. I wanted to reassure him that my situation wasn’t an emergency, so he could slow down a bit. But I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single word.

I’m not going to lie. I’m not fine. I feel unwell. But I can still manage.

“Fuck. If I’d only known you were sick—shit, this is all my fault,” he hissed. I couldn’t believe that I’m hearing those expletives from him.

I glanced at this nice guy beside me. I had never seen Sebastian like this. He looked so upset. I felt guilty that he was feeling guilty for what happened to me.

Sebastian, don’t blame yourself, please. You’ve done no wrong.

But I’m afraid… your brother might have.

© Cyan