Joel Pimentel is part of CNCO, one of the most famous boy bands world wide. His looks, charms and shy personality would lead anyone to believe he hides nothing behind his sweet smile. Except he does. And not just any secret, but a three year old dau...
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g i o v a n a
When I loved Joel I didn't even know what love was.
He snuck over at night. I'd lock the door and we would lay there in the dark. We'd steal glances at each other, and when I got enough courage to, I spoke of anything at all. He'd nod his head, say one or two things, then I'd wait for him to talk. I always waited, because I was afraid if I didn't, I'd miss the opportunity to hear any words more than okay and mhm , coming from his pink lips. When he didn't, I took the opportunity to kiss him. Joel never objected, and I figured he'd want me the way I did him. The way his hands made contact with my skin, the way he was able to find my sweet spot without guidance, the way he sent me over the edge within seconds, and how his hands intertwined with mine over my head all seem to suggest he did. When he locked eyes with me to see any sign of pain on my face, and the way he kissed me to distract me when I did all confirmed it.
And I was blind.
I fell for him, even when what was going on was nothing but casual. The need to touch him after he'd fallen asleep was uncontrollable. I found myself starring at him in the dark, trying to make out features and pretend that my breathing wasn't hitched every time my gaze landed on those eyes, even if they were closed.
I blame his eyes.
Whenever his brown orbs met mine I felt myself growing weaker. I wasn't afraid to be vulnerable, but I feared his lack of emotion. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but as far as I was concerned, Joel's was untouchable. Nothing of the sort moved him. Something in me always knew my feelings wouldn't be reciprocated, and I figured if I never crossed the line, I could still have him at least this way. This little part of him that needed someone to fulfill his desires, and in turn, a little part of me longed for more than something outside of this bed. Outside of these damn pastel pink walls.
It was always on his terms.
Lo nuestro no es nada serio, he says. Just sex.
I nod, as always, ya se.
Porque insistes?
Then I went silent. He turned to the other side of the bed, and with a bite to my lower lip, I forced myself to not tell him the truth.
Porque te quiero.
➰➰➰➰➰➰
This went on for months.
No one but us knew what we were doing, and we hardly knew either. It was one of those things were you went with the flow, and at the end, there's the thrill and the guilt you can't seem to swallow down. Soon enough, it started to feel like I owed everyone an explanation, and it wasn't long before things got a little suspicious.
Joel told me it was best if we stopped whatever this was for a little bit, and I reluctantly nodded. I was too attached and when he decided that, he stopped coming for a couple weeks, and I didn't realize how awkward it was to see him during the day, and how much it bothered me to see no sign of him missing me. It was clear as day. I was nothing at all to him.
