bound; governed by fate or extremely likely to occur.
"Face it, Marco. You and I are bound to one another. Even after all this time, even despite the consequences of our love, you can't keep yourself away from me-and neither can I."
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T A M E | I M P A L A - Lost in Yesterday "Eventually, terrible memories turn into great ones."
—
Two weeks passed. There was little to no contact between Marco and I, and by no fault of his own—I was avoiding the German like the plague. Still, it was a fairly difficult task: not only did we work together, but we possessed the same social circles. William was Marco's coach, while my closest friends were the girlfriends of Marco's closest friends—meaning that I saw the German frequently, be it at work or outside of work.
"Are you ready to go, Romessa? You can't spend the entire day staring at that computer of yours." It was a Friday afternoon; William and I had been invited to Hiba Abouk's birthday luncheon. Naturally, I was good friends with Hiba and Achraf—Achraf was Moroccan, and Hiba and I bonded from the moment I first introduced myself to her in Arabic. Still, I had absolutely no desire to get up from my spot at William's house—I'd discovered a glitch in the code for Athleta, and I would remain uneasy until it was fixed.
"I'm not staring at the computer," I remarked, before pushing my reading glasses up the bridge of my nose. "I have to fix this error. If I don't, it'll be on my mind the entire time."
William rolled his eyes. "Romessa, we've talked about this."
I felt my cheeks warm. William was old fashioned—he respected my work, but treated it more as though it was a hobby; like it was something I did for fun. Normally, I wouldn't allow him to be so patronizing, but I couldn't afford to in this case—William was the son of the man whose approval I desperately needed in order to legitimize and invest in Athleta. It felt falsely freeing, knowing that I had William around to make sure I was doing the things I needed to do—such as going to Hiba's party—but the more cunning and controlling he began to behave, the more suffocated I felt.
But, I would often wonder, how do I feel warning signs with William, but not Marco? My relationship with William was far safer than that which I had with Marco, despite what the media had been saying about me—particularly that I was a gold digger. I convinced myself that their opinions didn't matter, because if they found out about what Marco and I had been doing, they'd label me far worse. I didn't want to admit to myself that being with Marco felt less alarming because my inclination towards him was second nature, even after all this time. This was why I needed to take a break from the German—and focus more on William. "Okay," I finally spoke. "I'll get dressed, but don't blame me if I zone out the entire time."
I put on a strapless linen jumpsuit and a pair of sneakers before pushing my large sunglasses over my eyes, which I was too agitated to adorn with makeup. Even more frustrating than the glitch in my program's code was the scrutinizing look William gave me once I met him in his foyer. "You're going to wear sneakers? To a luncheon?"
