【••SOPHIA••】
“I’m a devil?”
I turn around sharply at Jameson’s sudden statement.
“What?” I say, surprised that he knows.
“You referred to me as a devil in front of Peter, Eva and Alan.”
“How… how do you know that?”
He raises an eyebrow, “so it’s true.”
I open my mouth only for gibberish to come.
“I’m very hurt, genius. I’m too charming to be a devil.”
“Exactly! That’s why I called you a charming devil.”
He blinks at me, “what?”
I huff, “you really annoyed me with your grins. You almost acted like a devil with me in a charming way so I started referring to you as the charming devil because your name made my blood boil.”
“So all this time whoever knew me, knew me as ‘a charming devil’?”
“Yes.” I say innocently.
“Even Laura?” horror takes over his features.
“What? No, no. Only Liv, Eva, Alan and Peter.” I count the people on my fingertips.
He stares at me, “you’re mean.”
I pout, “I don’t call you that anymore though.” although, I do have your number saved as ‘devil’
“You have my number saved as ‘devil’!?”
Did I say that out loud?
I nervously laugh, “I never changed it.”
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He huffs and shoves his hands in his pocket, looking away.
“Stop being dramatic. I don’t call you that now.” I say.
“Well, it still hurts.” he mutters.
I sigh and wrap my arms around his waist, he looks down at me, “I’m not going to apologize because I think it’s pretty funny.” I chuckle when he rolls his eyes, “but I’ll do something to make up for it.”
His eyes shine with amusement, “really?”
I nod, “nothing stupid though.”
“You’re no fun, genius.”
I shove at him, pulling away. He laughs.
“Just say what you want, devil.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Call you what?” I ask, innocently.
He sighs, I grin.
He looks up at the staircase leading to the bedrooms, “do you still have your bedroom here?”
“Yeah.” From what Ivan told Alan, dad didn’t touch anything that we left here.
“I want to see it.”
“What?”
He looks at me, “I want to see your bedroom.”
“There’s nothing in my bedroom that’s interesting.”
“I will be the judge of that, genius.”
“But-”
“No buts.” he says, “lead the way.”
I sigh, “fine.”
He smiles and pecks my cheeks. I turn around and make my way upstairs with Jameson behind me.
As we reach upstairs, the sound of the melody playing downstairs starts to vanish as well as the noise of chatter.
We walk in the empty hallway, our footsteps echoing as we reach my room.
I stare at the door for a while. All the doors here are the same. White and elegant. All the rooms scream what this mansion is. Elegant. That’s what our father is and that’s what Alan’s and mom’s life could’ve been.
I shake my head and turn the doorknob. The door opens with a small creek. I switch on the lights and my room comes into sight.
“Here it is,” I turn to Jameson, gesturing towards my old bedroom.
Jameson scans the whole room before stepping in, “it’s big.”
“And boring,” I mutter, turning around.
My old room is bigger compared to my new room at the apartment. The master bed is placed in the middle with a couch placed at the end of the bed. Two side tables are placed beside the bed with lamps placed on them.
The vanity is placed beside the door. A bookshelf on the left corner of the room. The balcony is locked with the curtain draped over it.
Jameson closes the door, vanishing the party going on downstairs. He walks towards the bookshelf and picks up a random book.
“You still have books here.” he says, turning a page.
“I don’t think I read any.” I say, he hums.
I turn and walk towards my vanity. There’s nothing on it. Mom took all the necessary things of ours when we moved.
I open the first drawer hoping to find something.
Nothing.
I close it and open the second drawer.
Nothing.
When I open the third drawer, I find a bundle of photo cards placed facedown in it.
I frown and take it out.
I flip the bundle over to look at the first photo. It’s a picture of me and Alan dressed up to attend an event arranged by father’s friends.
I don’t remember many events. All I remember, me and Alan would always get bored and would have to muffle our yawns in order not to come out as ‘rude’.
I start shuffling the pictures in order to see new ones.
They all are pictures mom took of us. Father never took any of our pictures just to keep memories. The only picture he got us took together was a family picture but that was a waste in the end.
My stomach ties a knot as I shuffle through the pictures. There are pictures of me with Alan, mom and even Ivan but none of them includes Father standing beside me or holding me.
I’ve never seen a picture where my father was holding. Not even as a baby.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Jameson appears beside me as I hold out a picture of me hugging mom. I must be three when the picture was taken.
In the picture, I have my tiny arms wrapped around mom’s neck while our cheeks are pressed against each other. I have a huge grin on my face showing my teeth and dimples, making my eyes small. Mom is laughing in the picture.
“You’re cute.” Jameson says, he gently takes the picture from my hand, smiling at it. “I’m dating this girl.” he says, flipping the picture so I see it.
I smile a little.
“What’s wrong?”
I look at Jameson, he has his brows drawn in concern.
I shake my head, “nothing.”
“You’re a bad liar, genius.”
I sigh, “I was just noticing how… none of these pictures include father with me.” I say, staring at the bundle, “I don’t have any photo showing that father once held me in my life.” I press my lips together as the ache in my throat returns.
Jameson looks at the photo before putting it down. He pulls me closer to him and wraps his arms around me.
I bury my face into his chest, clutching his coat as my bottom lip trembles and a tear escapes my eye.
Don’t cry. Do not cry.
I can’t cry in front of him again.
Jameson strokes my hair as I fail to keep in my sobs.
It’s not exactly the same as that night when I broke down in his car. Right now, the tears that leave my eye are of sadness to why my father never tried to bond with me or even held me when I was a child.
I sniff and wipe the tears of my cheeks, “my room is really boring.” I pull away, chuckling, “I don’t have any fun memories in here.” I tell Jameson.
He stares at me for a while, stroking my hair before he says, “we’ll make one.”
“Huh?”
“Wait.”
He takes out his phone and starts scrolling. I turn around and put the bundle of photo cards back in the drawer.
I freeze when I hear the starting of the song ‘This Town’ by Niall Horan.
Jameson places his phone on the vanity and holds out his hand, “may I have this dance, my genius?”
“I don’t dance, Jameson.”
“You can’t leave a guy hanging like this, genius. That’s mean.”
“But-”
“Just dance.” he takes my hand and pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist while holding my hand with the other.
Before I could protest, he starts dancing, leading me slowly.
“You can dance,” he says, smiling.
“I guess-”
I let out a squeal when he twirls me around and pulls me against his chest, laughing.
I hit his shoulder, pressing my lips trying to hide my smile.
I place my free hand on his shoulder while we continue to dance, staring into each other’s eyes.
When the song starts to come to an end, Jameson leans in and captures my lips in a soft but passionate kiss. I part my lips, letting him deepen the kiss. His other arm wraps around my waist as well while I place my hand on the back of his neck.
We pull away from the kiss. The room fills with the sound of our breaths as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I lick my lips before I say, “Now, I have one good moment in this room. Even favorite of them all.”
He smiles, “Good.”
He leans in and kisses my cheeks. I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him.
He holds me, protecting me from my dark thoughts.
I fell for him a little harder tonight.