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◢◤◢◤◢◤ Circuit 21 ◢◤◢◤◢◤
In middle school I always listened to how my peers at school described their parents, and there was this one kid in particular, Jude, who was your typical sunshine in the classroom.
A magnet, he was. It was evident that he carried himself with so much confidence that it radiated off him. It didn't matter how ridiculous he appeared to us. To the kids he wouldn't even remember years later. It was plausible, but one thing stuck out to me.
A memory so distant yet so familiar. He had told his friends about hearing his parents do the deed one too many nights. He paid no mind to it until he realized what had become of it. The conversation I overheard wasn't meant for my innocent ears because I asked as soon as I got home. Mom and dad. During dinner just as Mom had finished setting the table.
Dad had become unusually quiet when the subject was broached much to my dismay. Despite Mom's subtle remark of 'you shouldn't be concerned with such things at a young age' — followed by a firm 'concerns don't define a person' that was the end of it.
It was never brought up again, and even after all this time, I'd never figured out what she truly meant by that.
Perhaps it didn't need to be dissected and pulled apart to form a more profound sense. Maybe she hadn't even considered her words because she was more concerned with how I came to my conclusions.
On the contrary, Mom had always been the strict parent, and dad was the one to say yes to everything. Ice cream before bed on Sundays when Mom was too exhausted from work? He would be the one to sneak into my room at midnight with two Bomb Pops in hand. One for him, and one for me. We'd sit on the floor, quietly giggling to ourselves for yet another successful mission up and fro the kitchenette. It didn't matter if I had school the next morning, I'd fallen asleep with a satisfied stomach.
Mom never found out, is what I think, because the fridge was always filled with treats. Although they were placed quite high and I would have needed a stool to reach them.
To cope with my sorrows, I always told myself that maybe dad left because mom was always grumpy. But I know that wasn't it because she was the most caring woman behind closed doors. There were times when they argued about our financial hardships and that was understandable, it's what married couples do.
Their arguments didn't fall on deaf ears, though, because once I learned to earn my own money, I made sure I had so much it wouldn't be a problem anymore.
Like everything else in my life, it didn't matter. Dad was gone before I could fix things. Before I could give back.
He was the first man I had ever loved. That is what girls like me say growing up with both parents present. Although I wish I had known the true value of having them at my side sooner than later. If I had only known it was going to end this way, I would have done my best to be a better daughter. Once they were proud to show off to friends and family.
I always wondered what it would be like to possess many talents. My admiration is drawn to those who can attend family gatherings without having to worry if they had something to boast about. Then again, we didn't have any family in the States except for Grandma and Grandpa.
Dad was also the only man who had ever shown me, love. True love. But like everything else in the world, it changed. Or maybe I did. And in the back of my brain, I blamed him. For leaving and for tearing the family apart. He could've stayed and we would've been the happiest and I could have experienced my dream quinceañeara. A fairytale a girl could only dream of at the age of fifteen.
It wasn't like I would ask for it, anyway. We barely had leftovers on the table. But knowing Dad, I think he would have found a way to give his only daughter the dream.
He always does.
Eventually, I let it go like a kid would. I'm now seventeen. Daddy's little girl is gone. It makes me sad but I don't think long about it. If I think too hard, the pain will just come back, foster me like my dad never could.
I don't like sadness. Or pain. Not all kinds of pain, though. I like the pain that comes with pleasure. Nonetheless, I do everything I can to avoid it. Life is too short to feel sadness, pain, and misery.
I find comfort in those days I get to do what makes me happy. What makes my chest melt away. Even if I have to depend on someone else for my happiness. I will do it. I will be happy even if the world isn't. It is the mantra I repeat over and over, thinking if I say it enough times it will come true.
Everything will be okay.
"Will you be fine here?"
I tore my gaze from the paneled wall, where a huge family portrait of Theo and his family hung in the picture. I still couldn't believe being here — most especially invited by his own family to celebrate his win. I was more than grateful, to say the least. And nervous because it had been so long since I sat down for dinner, more so a fancy one.
I didn't think my nerves could skyrocket until we finally arrived and parked outside of their circular driveway, a few minutes from downtown, and passed a gated neighborhood.
As soon as I stepped out and my shoes hit the cobblestone, it started to hit me. I felt so small and couldn't stop comparing myself to the boy in front of me.
I was an over-thinker. Even in moments where I needed the most confidence and certainty, I couldn't help but juxtapose our two different lifestyles.
Surely I was confident in the way I carried myself (more than anyone I know) and not ashamed of where I came from, a city known for its precariousness. Theo? An over-achiever in a family of four. A city boy who has his whole life planned out for him.
And me? A scattering seed of cottonwood on a Spring breeze. Its dispersal includes sappy, barbed seeds that cling to passing animals and those embedded in fruits.
I stood no chance against mother nature.
It didn't make sense.
We wouldn't make sense.
"I'll be quick," he informs me. "Just need to shower."
I nodded my head, burying my hands in my back pocket as he comes to stand in front of me at the bottom of the staircase leading to the second floor. His gym bag and shoes are draped over his robust shoulders as he tosses his car keys on a glass table.
"I'll be here," I tell him. It didn't take a genius to understand he was drained from the game and needed a rest. With slightly hooded lids and a dewy nose. I knew it was bad timing to think dirty thoughts but I imagine what it would be like to have his pretty nose buried in the folds between my legs. He'd look pretty with my arousal and I would have a difficult time keeping myself from tasting myself on his lips.
God. My mind is in the gutter. There isn't a time when Theo looked bad in my eyes. He could be wearing a trash bag and I'd still look at him if he were a god himself.
"Are you sure?"
I nod my head, reassuring him with a smile.
We stare at each other for a moment, the sound of cluttering ceramics against each other coming from the direction of the kitchen until a gurgling voice cracks in the air.
"Can you call your sister on your way?" It's Theo's dad standing tall in the middle of the room and watching us for god knows how long. I must've been too comfortable that I didn't even feel a gaze burning on the back of my head.
Theo quickly creates a distance between our bodies as he bites his cheek before looking at his dad and then back at me. I give him a silent nod and he finally starts his journey upstairs.
I stay rooted to my spot, my hands frozen at my sides. I hated being looked at like I was some kind of intruder.
He's dressed in a fleece sweater - branded, I assume, I wouldn't know if it weren't - and in one of those trousers Theo likes to wear. They've got that in common.
"Ola, was it?" He speaks first, neutrality in his tone. His defensive stance doesn't give away his emotions but I've seen far too many people who look at themselves in the mirror and think they are above everyone else. I'm reminded of that when I look at him.
I feign indifference and plaster the best smile possible I could almost feel my cheeks strain. The man's intimidating glare follows his son before it comes back to me with caution. Something tells me I should just be myself and give in to my intuition but the thought of disappointing Theo will haunt me in my sleep tonight.
I have to play nice to win him over.
The way to a boy's heart is through his father. I've seen the way Theo responds to his father. He seemed less himself than when he was with me or his mom. I could tell there was a slight dominance he had over his son.
"Olaria Sainz, sir." I don't know what came over me to feel the need to tell him my full name. My eyes wander to the huge light fixtures hanging from the ceiling and some beneath the walkway to the stairs. "Thank you again for having me."
"A friend of our son is a friend of ours." His words ease me. "I've never seen you before. Are you new here?"
Usually, when I meet people, I am the first to go out of my way to make them feel comfortable, but somehow, I am the one getting chills and cold feet from this situation.
Perhaps I'm just too scared to make a bad impression on Theo's father. So, instead of letting fear swallow me, I answer. "Yes, sir. Just a few weeks ago."
"Where from?" It's as if my answer raised more questions. The man didn't try to hide his curiosity as his eyes studied me from head to toe. Like he was guessing from my choice of clothing. It's not the usual style he notices from the locals.
California is insanely diverse on its own, and it has all - from the sun-kissed surf beaches and fascinating cities to picturesque vineyards, rugged mountains, soaring redwood forests, and dramatic deserts — California stands atop the lists. He wonders what could be better than his hometown.
"New York, Florida—"
"Illinois, sir." The flicker in my eyes as I mentioned it to him lit up, "Chicago, Illinois."
He raised his brows, interrogative. "Oh. From Winnetka? Glencoe— or is it Wilmette?" I swallowed as he listed a few of the most luxurious suburbs in the city. Yeah, he's not gonna like this one. "I have a couple of buddies from there—"
"From the South, sir."
He fell to silence. A pin could drop from the ceiling and we'd hear it echo.
"What do your parents do?"
I blinked, his question catching me off guard. It was evident in the way my smile faltered. "My parents?"
He simply nodded, waiting for my response. I could feel my underarms sweating at his intimidating aura. It takes me a while to form my words. I didn't want to lie, but explaining to someone else about my dysfunctional family, causes my heart to shrink into the pit of my stomach.
I wasn't ashamed of having split parents — but what I didn't appreciate being pitied or being looked down upon.
Ignoring the unpleasant feeling in my chest, I answered and held my head high. "My mom is a therapist."
Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise? "Private?"
"No, sir," I say, the thought of my mother igniting a glimmer of conviction in my features. Despite our differences, I've always looked up to her for having the biggest heart and being passionate about her job. While she has a passion for something other than alcohol, I was glad she was able to keep herself busy after the split.
I knew the separation affected her more than she admit in hopes to keep the both of us strong, but even she couldn't hide it from me all those times I heard her quiet sobs in her room or shower when she thought I would be asleep.
"She works at a clinic for low-income families."
"And your father?"
"Honey." A feminine voice sounds and I couldn't be more thankful for Mrs. Lauder for coming at the right time. She's holding a tray of what seemed like Pasta, a bright pink apron tied around her waist.
She eyes her husband, sensing the tension in the air.
Then, when her eyes land on me, she breaks into a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're here, Ola." I could get used to her calling my name, for now. Though I would prefer it to be daughter-in-law. "I hope he didn't scare you," she lets out a small chuckle to ease the atmosphere. "That's just how he is. I hope you understand."
I forced out a laugh. "It's okay. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Lauder," I mentioned in hopes to steer the topic.
"Please, call me Laura," she says. "I feel so old." At her offer, my eyes fall toward the dish she's holding and I go over to help her. She gasps at my gesture unexpectedly. "You don't have to do that. You're our guest. Please have a seat. Theo will be right down."
I shake my head, persistent. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No, but thank you anyway. I'd already prepared everything before we left. The helpers should bring them out in a second."
When I was sure she didn't need my help and indeed, as four helpers in matching uniforms emerged with various dishes, I couldn't help but stare in awe as I sat wordlessly and waited for Theo to finally join us. And in record time, he arrives, all in his glory and dressed down comfortably in an oversized jacket and basketball shorts, his little sister in tow with her onesie pajamas.
Despite Theo's hotness and damped fringe, my eyes were glued to the way he took the sleepy girl in his arms as he sat her on his lap next to me. Across from us were Laura and Mr. Lauder immersed in their own conversation.
"Sorry I took long. I had to wake her," Theo says as soon as he catches my eyes.
"It's cool. It wasn't that bad. Your parents kept me good company." I tell him half-heartedly, keeping the part where his father wouldn't stop asking questions. Perhaps the man was just curious and wanted to find out more about my background.
Theo's worry seemed to fade at my confession. Not like I was going to talk badly about his parents in front of them.
The small girl in his arms raises on his lap in her sock-covered feet, peeking at me behind her brother's chest.
I smile, noting the blush on her cheeks when I catch her staring. "Hi, there. What's your name?"
"T-Thea . . ." She lets out in a tiny voice.
A grin decorates my face as she rubs her eyes with her sleeves as if she had just woken. It was surprising to see a child not crying after a nap.
"That's a cool name," I say, my heart melting at the marks on her face and the messy pigtails. Her eyes resembled Theo's much more than Laura who had lighter orbs.
". . . Are you my Tony's girlfriend?"
Cute. She calls him Tony. Theo Anthony Lauder.
I swallowed the fluttering in my stomach from her question.
"Thea, come here." Laura takes the little girl back in her arms and places her beside them in a kid's chair before a nanny comes running to help feed her.
"Please, help yourselves," Laura announces before she takes a swig of white wine, her husband silently eating his food.
Faint, classical music floats in the background. Before my hunger worsens, I reach for the seared Scallops and dump a scoop of sauce on my plate.
Theo faces me, still flustered at his sister's question. "I'm sorry about that. She can be a little too . . . honest."
"It's okay. I like honesty." I spoke despite the food in my mouth. I hear Theo laughing to himself before he passes a cloth to me. Again, I mutter a 'thank you' before eyeing him.
"You aren't eating?" I catch his empty plate. "This is good. I wish I could eat like this every day. I'd be happy forever."
The corner of his lips tilts as he watches me swallow another bite.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it." There is a hint of amusement in Laura's voice as she puts down her glass and wipes the side of her mouth to speak. "I would love to have you again sometime. I can even cook your favorite."
My eyes widened at her kindness. I guess one has to be the humble one in the marriage. Gotta keep one down to earth for what it's worth. Laura ignores the cranky man beside her and I pause, swallowing my food.
"Really?" I was more than delighted. "You wouldn't mind?"
At my answer, Mr. Lauder sipped from his wine glass and set it down a little too heavily. Oblivious to her husband's dramatics, Laura continues. "Why not? I can finally share my recipes. Only if you're willing to learn."
"I would love to," I face Theo, eyes crinkled. He's already looking at me with those eyes that dig deep into my soul. He hasn't even done anything and I can feel myself weaken. "Learning doesn't sound too bad."
I wasn't agreeing with the actual cooking lesson but to see more of Theo in his natural habitat. I would slowly gain his trust and those dear to him. We would be inseparable and I'd finally have him all to myself. Willingly.
I can't wait.
Theo nibbles on his lip, his head lowering when he feels the pad of my fingers resting on his knee beneath the table. Whatever I was doing was risky and with his parents in front of us, he had no choice but to act as if my hand isn't gradually going up to his muscular thighs.
A satisfied smirk paints my face when I feel his muscles tense under my touch and the way his skin warms my own.
When both Laura and Henry leave for the kitchen to talk about something, Theo snaps his head to me with worried eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I coyly smile up at him like my hand isn't inches away from his crotch. "Am I being a bad girl?"
The vote goal is 470 because I always end up underestimating you guys and end up passing the goal in less than 2 days. I had to split this in half because it was too long, sorry :(
Also, I don't think I mentioned this before but I just want to clarify that when Ola talks about her grandparents, she's talking about her mom's side of the family.
Thank you for reading!
See you in the next chapter
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