Leonel chose the wrong day to wear one of his best designer suits.
It's either that or I chose the wrong place to take him to.
For laughs, I actually did it on purpose.
The gentleman's hair was slicked back as always, his posture perfect and his aura drenched in power. Leonel Alexeev looked out-of-place as he sat in a yellow and pink booth with me, a seven-dollar burger platter in front of him and 2010 pop music blaring in the background.
I snapped another picture.
He sighed and rolled his eyes, making me think that I'm starting to rub off on everyone.
"Rosaleen, stop that," he said, just in time for me to snap another one.
There wasn't wrong with diners like Owen's. The chicken tasted good despite the grease and the baked macaroni obviously took time and a hell lot of herbs to make. For prices below ten dollars, it was quite amazing.
Admittedly, though, I wouldn't have gone here if it wasn't for this joke—a joke that Leonel didn't seem to find funny.
"Oh, please," I snorted, "It's not that bad," and to prove it, I slid my milkshake across the table, "Try it."
"I am not going to drink that, Rosaleen," he grumbled.
"Taste it, Leo," I tried again, "Just one sip."
"It looks like a tall glass of cum, malyshka."
"You're overreacting."
I wrapped my lips around the red straw and sipped the vanilla beverage, satisfied with the flavor afterwards. "It's good, I swear."
"No."
"You're a killjoy," I crossed my arms and started eating the rest of my macaroni. He muttered something in Russian under his breath before grabbing a fork and knife and slicing into his burger.
I watched as he reluctantly brought the food into his mouth, slowly evaluating the taste before chewing normally.
"I think I love him, Leo."
Leonel choked on his burger, hurriedly grabbing my milkshake to down the food.
Look at this loser.
He cleared his throat and grabbed a tissue to wipe his mouth. When the man was finally composed, he spoke, "Took you long enough to realize."
"What now?" I glared at the plate of fries in between us.
I glanced outside so see Jared still standing outside by my car. After our moment yesterday, I figured it'd be fine for him to know that I'm meeting Leonel. Only to talk, anyway. He already knew I love Nick. He was kind enough not to tell my brother if my brother wouldn't ask.
"You're young, Rosaleen," he waved dismissively, "Just see where it takes you."
Nick's words rang in my mind. He called me insensitive.
"Wouldn't that be insensitive? Nick's marriage is on the line. This can change their lives," I told him but truthfully, it was a stupid question. I should've thought about that before I slutted out. But again, I wasn't in love back then and I didn't think I would be.
Leonel hummed as he thought for a second, "He's insensitive too. He's cheating, isn't he?"
I played with the chicken on my plate. I pretty much forced Nikolas into it. It was entirely my fault.
"Bianca too," Leonel eagerly ate more of his burger, "If she's as bad as you think she is or worse, then she's insensitive for making their relationship revolve around her family issues and success. No one here is a saint, Rosaleen. So which among you evil fuckers is gonna win?"
"That's true..." I simply said.
"Tell me what happened yesterday," he said so I did. I told Mr. Alexeev the tales of yesterday and of the day before that, quite overwhelmed with how much can happen over a weekend. By the time I was done, his plate was clean.
"And you said you didn't wanna eat here," was my comment which he chose to ignore.
"I have this gut feeling," began Leo, "That Mr. Nikolas Camillo feels the same."
"Don't get my hopes up," I massaged my temples, "It'll hurt when it splatters to the ground, Leo."
"I'm serious," said the guy, "Believe it or not, men fall in love faster than women do."
"Bullshit." Complete bullshit.
"It's true, " he defended, "I know how that crap works."
"How does it work?" I asked. In another world, Leonel might be a psychotherapist at Vita. Not a good one, but still.
"I've been in love before, Rosaleen," he grabbed my drink and took a sip, "After hearing everything you told me, I'm pretty sure there's something there. Make a man feel needed and appreciated I'm sure it'll get his emotions fucked."
"I just..." I sighed and let my head fall into my hands, "I just wish he'd leave her already."
"I know," said Leonel, "Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn't look so desperate. Time to up your game, then."
-
Time to up my game.
I had just finished distributing prom invites with the council and the rest of the committee. The cafeteria was buzzing louder than usual with the word prom being thrown left and right. Other common words include date and dress.
Instead of eating lunch that I probably won't enjoy due to the fact that my appetite was for Nikolas Camillo only, I exited the large room and walked the halls of GA, specifically the path to the principal's office. The doors swung open and closed just as fast behind me. It only took a second to drop my bag, lock the door, and start towards Mr. Camillo who stood behind his desk with an unbelieving look on his drop-dead gorgeous face.
"I'm sorry," I said as I stopped in front of him. His eyebrows were to the ceiling as he regarded me thoughtfully.
"I was immature," I crossed my arms in front of my chest, "I was tired and I wasn't thinking straight."
A sigh escaped his lips, "Apology accepted," he said, not wanting to make a big deal out if the little dispute. Nikolas looked tired and I noticed how he got rid of the beard.
"Tell me..." I spoke softly as I grabbed his shoulders and slowly pushed him down into his chair, "What happened with Bianca?"
I perched myself up on his desk, hooking my foot onto his armrest and pulling him closer. Once Nick was in between my legs, I held his hands and wound his arms around my waist.
He was stiff as he went with it, but the tension soon left his shoulders when he sighed tiredly and melted against me.
Comfort. I can give it to you, Nick.
"Her mother arrived without prior notice," he explained as I let my hands play with his hair, minding that he liked it, "She's a judgmental woman who likes to assume the worst and jump to conclusions," said Nick boredly, "Bianca didn't want her mother assuming things just 'cause I wasn't around on a Saturday night."
"I hate her family," I told him.
"Same here, " his voice was muffled against my stomach.
"But thing is, I have been fucking around that Saturday night," he gazed up at me, "so I shouldn't really hate her. She was right."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
His hold on me tightened, "Not your fault, Rose. I enjoyed that day."
"Me too," I offered a small smile and Nikolas decided to change the topic.
"Prom update?" his hair was a mess on his head after my fingers had their way with it, but I noticed how much more relaxed it made him.
"We distributed the invitations this morning," was my answer as he buried his face against my abdomen again.
Nikolas didn't beat around the bush, "Who are you going with?"
"Will you go with me?"
He pulled away and looked up at me, being illegally adorable as he did, "Don't be ridiculous."
"I was joking. But to answer your question, I don't know who I'm going with yet."
Mr. Camillo chuckled, "That boy Sean Caron hasn't asked you out yet?"
I rolled my eyes at that, "Oh, wouldn't you like to know, babe?"
"Just being a protective boyfriend and all," he joked before yawning and sinking deeper against me.
Goddamnit, why am I blushing?
Stop blushing.
"If you keep saying jokes like that, I might just start believing you, baby," I was lucky that he couldn't see my face. It would've been a dead giveaway.
"Who said I was joking?"
My pink face became red. How do I stop this nonsense?
Just my luck, Nikolas Camillo noticed my sudden silence. The man sat up and once his eyes landed on my face, they zeroed in on my cheeks.
"Are you blushing, Ms. Martin? You're turning... concerningly red."
"No," I cocked my head back as if I were insulted, "I don't blush."
"Uh-huh? Then what do you call this?" his thumb brushed my cheek and made it worse. I slapped Nick's hand away.
The man's chuckle was mocking me. He stood up and before he could reach for my face again, I slid off his desk.
"Hey," he grabbed my waist before I was able to escape, "It's normal, Rosaleen."
I glared at Nikolas, feeling less confident because of my flustered state.
"It's not even funny."
Luckily, the heat was starting to fade away, which meant that the tint was starting to vanish too.
"You flatter me, Ms, Martin," Nikolas was still entertained as he bent his head down close enough for our noses to touch, "Who knew I could make you red in more ways than one?"
I felt the blush creep into my face again.
Nikolas Fucktard Camillo bursted into rumbling laughter before I pushed him away and headed for the door.
"Babe!" he stage-whispered. I grabbed my bag and gave him the finger.
The sound of his deep chuckle was cut off once I slammed the door behind me.
No blowjobs for you, Mr. Camillo.
-
The Martin's residence is a fine showcase of cooperation between modern and classical architecture—though more on the modern side than classical. We weren't the original owners but whoever it was had exquisite taste and a large paycheck.
The interior was minded critically when we had it refurnished by French interior designers—a middle-aged married couple well known in the industry.
Even if I've lived here for years, I can always find one aesthetically pleasing spot that I haven't memorized yet. The structure was large enough to cater multiple families—rationality insulted since it's only inhabited by a family of two. One member's usually at work and one's usually at school. The staff must have a knack of keeping themselves entertained while neither of the owners are present.
With an unsaturated color palette that screamed elegance and class, our house looked something out of a special issue of the Architectural Digest. The scene, if standing in front of the gates, was serene and plush.
What would ruin the audiovisual experience is the sound of Wyatt's cheeky laughter as he flipped through the pages of his yearbook.
In a brown suit with a matching navy tie, polished shoes, and a clean-shaven face, the man visually fit the ideal owner of the lot.
Though not now as he held a colorful high school yearbook in his hands, head hung back, and eyes teary from laughing.
"What's so funny?" I finally let myself be curious. I peered over his shoulder to see his pointer finger on Martin, Wyatt C.
Martin, Wyatt C. had quoted:
Wanted: Dead or Alive. 100,000 dollar reward.
Eighteen-year-old Wyatt was smiling at the camera with spiky hair and retainers. The quote was right below him in italic letters.
"I admire your wit," I mumbled as I rolled my eyes and reclaimed my comfy position on the couch.
"You should," he sighed and slammed the book close, "You take after me," said the man as if he were my father.
My response came as a short snort. I then reached for my glass of juice on the coffee table, refreshing myself with the cool liquid. Wyatt asked, "What's your senior year quote?"
I shrugged, "I don't know yet. I haven't thought about it."
Though I may be half-tempted to put 'I fucked our principal.'
It's either that or some witty quote I find on Pinterest.
Our attention snapped to the ringing of my phone on the table. I stood up and excused myself for a moment, "I gotta take this," swiping answer and walking up to my room.
A part of me was hoping for Dick Camillo, but a call from Leonel Alexeev was also welcome.
"Leo," I muttered as I threw myself on my soft mattress with throw pillows in different shades and textures of muted pink all over it.
"Are we still going to that diner on Sunday?" he asked, "Something came up and I won't be able to make it."
"Anything wrong?" I toyed with the hem of my shirt before glancing at my desk which was piled with homework that teachers annoyingly decided to cram into the weeks before prom.
"Nothing you should be concerned about, he answered, "Some reporter got dirt on my family and my father wants me to deal with it."
I laughed softly, "Drama. Is Leonel Alexeev a daddy's boy now?" I teased as I turned in my bed, sleepiness making itself known with a yawn.
"Am not," I can imagine him rolling his eyes to the side, "And that's not the only reason I called. I ran into someone."
"Who?" I yawned again, trying to fight off my desire for a nap.
"Mr. Camillo's legal lover," I could hear the tease in his voice.
"Where?" the sun was starting to set, forming a landscape with a warm gradient sky on the other side of my window.
"At the mall looking at furniture," said Leo, "She's hot, but she seems like a boring woman."
I laughed at that, "She's an interior decorator. It's her thing." I hugged a pillow to my chest, "And can you stop saying she's hot? It's weird. Did she talk to you? mention anything?"
"Other than it's such a small world? Well, she asked how Wyatt was doing which I had no clue of. Then, she asked a bit about you and told me that internship would do you great for your resume, blablabla. Since she was asking about people, I asked her about her faithful beloved husband."
"And?" another yawn.
"Said they're fine but it seemed kinda off," replied Leo, "Then she started talking about their anniversary next month," he scoffed, "I don't really care but I think you do."
"Their first anniversary," I muttered to myself, "See how easy it is to break them apart?"
"This is gonna sound cheesy," he told me, "But love can't be measured by time, malyshka. Which is both a good thing and a bad thing for you."
"That did sound cheesy," I admitted, "I don't know much about love, Leonel."
"Eventually you'll do," I heard the door of a car close in the background, "I gotta go. See you when I see you."
"Bye," I hung up and stood from the bed.
I glared at Ms. Xi's stack of essay prompts. Nevertheless, I started working on the pile.
I've always secretly liked grand promposals. In my four years in high school, I've lost count of the number of guys who asked me to proms. I never went, only to the typical school dance.
One proposal was a guy who arranged condoms to word 'Will you go to prom with me?' at a parking lot. I can't remember his name, but his proposal surely left a mark. It was both funny and offensive. Unfortunately for him, I declined and not one of the protective rubbers were used.
Another one that I haven't forgotten was pretty romantic. It involved a boat, flowers, an orchestra, candles, champagne, and a museum.
Now Goldenlux. Goldenlux, a school with the name of a strip club. Really, what can I expect?
It certainly wasn't Aiden Philipps barging through the main doors at eight in the morning, spotting me across the hallway, giving me a nod, and hanging an arm loosely around my shoulders just to tell me:
"You're going to prom with me."
Jie spoke up from beside us, "That's not how you prompose to a girl, Aiden."
"I agree," I narrowed my eyed at Aiden and removed his arm off me. I would say yes to Aiden though. It would be fun.
"Oh, come on," he began, "Who else am I supposed to go with?"
I had no doubt that Aiden Philipps could find a girl in GA. He's quite a campus crush.
"You can go alone if that's how you're gonna ask girls out," lectured Jie.
"He didn't even ask," I added, "It was a command."
"Fine," he sighed, "I'm gonna see what girls want and I'll get back to you, Felicia."
"Speaking of prom," Jie exhaled sharply before a glowing smile traced her lips, "I'm running for prom queen."
"That's great," I told her. I could definitely see it. If I hadn't switched schools, I would've ran too. Here in Goldenlux, I didn't have the upper-hand. I was new and hadn't done much to make myself known. I was busy with a different extra-curricular activity.
"And Jeric's running for prom king," she bent her head to the side, letting her colroful hair brush her cheeks, "Had to force him to do it."
"And I'm," Sean Caron appeared from literally nowhere, "Running for prom king too. Good morning, ladies."
"Good luck to you guys. I guess I'll be drinking fruit punch and eating mozarella sticks by the exit."
"Or," Aiden cut in, "You can be dancing with your prom date if you cut him some slack and say yes."
"Who's her date?" Jeric also appeared out of nowhere.
"Me," Aiden smiled sweetly, "I'm her friendly companion."
"Not yet," I crossed my arms, "Haven't accepted yet."
"Yet, " Aiden winked. On cue, the bell rang.
There's a certain satisfaction you get from passing assignments that you crammed the night before the deadline. I felt that satisfying feeling multiple times today. I felt it first when I passed Ms. Xi her annoyingly long essays, followed by handing Mr. Alto a short study on modern economics, then passing Ms. Holland her assessments. The last would be felt when I finally hand Mr. Devon a fucking worksheet that I cried over at midnight.
The girls at our table were talking about prom dresses and makeup.
"Rose," called one of the girls who I'll probably forget about after high school, "Wanna come with us? We're going dress shopping."
I appreciated the gesture, but "I already had one picked out," I told them. I already called Benny last week to have a stylist pick out my prom wardrobe. They already have my body measurements.
After eating my chicken sandwich, I slid out of table, not having to excuse myself to my friends anymore. At some point, I thought about Jeric and how clueless he was. I made the decision to tell him after graduation, just so he wouldn't remember me as 'the girl who sneaks off at lunch to cry in the bathroom' and instead as 'the badass who snuck off during lunchtime to fuck our principal.' Hopefully, Jie was true to her word and hadn't told him anything yet.
Aiden didn't seem to notice my disappearance, being too engrossed with his phone. His eyes were scanning an article as his thumb scrolled down. Jeric and Sean were laughing along with other boys.
I opened the door to Mr. Camillo's office where he sat behind his desk, glasses on the bridge of his nose and pen in hand as he wrote something down on paper. He glanced up, "Hey," he greeted before he brought his attention back to his work.
I put my bag on the floor and padded across the room. Standing behind his chair, I looked over his shoulder.
"What's that?" I wondered.
It took him a while to answer since he was so focused, "Staff-development reports that needs to be done by five o'clock. I finished this two days ago, but I found a mistake."
I laid my chin on his head and put my hands on his shoulders. My fingers pressed into his muscles, kneading until Nikolas paused for a second to realize that I was massaging him.
He kept writing and I kept moving. The old Rose would slap me and demand why I'd rather touch a hot man's shoulders instead of his dick, but that Rose can go fuck herself. I happen to love this hot man.
I watched him scribble word after word on the sheet, finding calmness in the sound of pen against paper. Eventually, my fingers started hurting. As if Nikolas sensed this, he put his pen down and removed his eyeglasses. Then, he took one of my hands and kissed it.
With my hand in his large one, Mr. Camillo led me to sit on his lap. How can you not fall in love with that?
"Sorry," he said as he let his head fall back, his eyes meeting mine, "I'm busy."
"Have you at least eaten?"
I played with his navy blue tie while he played with the hem of my skirt. Literally, we couldn't get our hands off each other. Leonel's words crept into my mind: I have this gut feeling that Mr. Nikolas Camillo feels the same.
"Can't," he started stroking my hair, "I gotta finish this."
"I should've brought you something," I told him.
"I'm fine."
"I think I should go," I suggested, "So you can finish that."
I slid my hands up and down his chest, appreciating the hard muscle it's built with. Nikolas asked, "Do you want to see each other later, then?"
"Sure. Where and what time?"
"Docks again at eight," he told me. I couldn't complain because we had no other options yet. If we weren't so... unlawful, we'd be at each other's homes easily.
"I'll see you there," I told Nikolas and planted a kiss on his cheek afterwards.
I was getting to my feet when he pulled me back, "I want a proper kiss," said the man.
I playfully glared, "Demanding, are we?"
Even so, I bent down and cupped his cheeks in my hands, teasing his lips with mine at first—playfully brushing with a fraction of a centimeter in between.
Nick licked his lips once before closing the gap. Lately, kisses with the man have been more meaningful than usual.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and cocked my head to one side, deepening the kiss and letting my lips part to welcome his tongue.
I got wet in an instant. More so when his hands travelled down my sides to grip my hips and pull me down on him.
"You're not gonna get any work done," I laughed as I pulled back, "I don't want Ramsford firing you."
Nikolas chuckled, "That man has a lot of patience for me. A late file won't be a problem," he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Your gradual fall from grace is entertaining, Mr. Camillo," I hopped off of him, "But seriously—work. You have bills to pay."
"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled as I walked to the door and grabbed my bag. With one last wink at the man, I left.
I was again granted with the satisfying feeling I described earlier when Mr. Devon's class finally ended. Since classes for the day were over, I could finally look forward to my meetup with Nikolas.
I parted from Jeric and Sean to transfer textbooks into my locker. As I organized my things on the metal shelf, a giddy Jie approached.
"Come with me," she said as she grabbed my arm.
"What's up?" I slammed my locker close and let her drag—and I mean drag—me to the other side of the building. It was almost painful.
"Jie, what's going on?" I asked again and again. The woman only answered with laughter and shushes.
We were heading for a vacant room. "If you're gonna murder me, I at least wanna say goodbye to—"
"Shhh!" she exclaimed again, "You'll see."
The girl's excitement came to a stop when she swung the door open and shoved—and I mean shoved—me into the room and closed the door behind me.
Jie was one strong 5'2".
I shouldn't be able to see in the dark room, but I did. This is because the area wasn't fully blacked out, instead lit with an LED ball in the middle.
My eyes were quick to adjust and settled on a figure at the far side. Aiden's figure.
I scowled and crossed my arms, "What the fuck is this?" My mouth popped open in confusion and even though it was dim, I saw Aiden's annoying smirk.
You might be wondering why I reacted the way I did, so let me clarify:
Aiden's shirtless figure was across the room.
I saw the glow of his phone. His thumb moved over the device, tapping until a familiar song played from behind him.
I couldn't believe what was happening to me.
How is this happening to me?
Ginuwine's smooth voice serenaded the room. 'I'm just a bachelor...'
In a heartbeat, I was banging on the door, "Jie! Jie, let me out!"
'Looking for a partner...'
"Jie! What the hell is this?"
I made the mistake of looking behind me. Aiden was a literal meter away.
'Someone who knows how to ride...'
Aiden gently grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a chair in the middle of the room. I sent a silent prayer to the heavens.
'Without even falling off...'
The music continued playing and to my horror (and undeniable entertainment), Aiden started doing body rolls. All past promposals came flying out of my memory to make room for this one. I didn't know how to react. I've never gotten a lap dance before.
And it's from Alden, for fuck's sake.
The guy's amusement was mocking. Seconds felt like minutes, though eventually, my worst fear came: the chorus.
'If you're horny... let's do it...'
'Ride it... my pony...'
My eyes widened into fucking saucers when the man parted my legs and put his foot in the space between. The body rolls and air thrusts continued and I all I could do was watch until he decides to finish.
'My saddle's waiting, come and... jump on it...'
I made another mistake of glancing at his face. Aiden winked and put his foot down. But then, his hands gripped the back of my chair—the spaces behind my shoulders. Locked in between his arms, he took the opportunity to roll again.
"I am going to hit you—"
He put a finger against my lips, "Don't ruin it."
I don't usually go to church, but I racked my brain for priests who I might know of—someone who'd be willing to perform an exorcism on my friend.
I didn't know where to look. Sure, Aiden had a great body, but wouldn't it be weird if I stare at his six-pack? I didn't wanna look at his face either since a mocking smile seemed to be glued to it. I definitely couldn't look at his lower regions either.
So, I sighed and looked at the ceiling, reevaluating life decisions. Is this what Nikolas felt like the first time I jumped him?
Jesus Christ, forgive me, Nick.
Fortunately, Aiden didn't plan on finishing the whole song. The man was running out of dance moves. The music was left playing faintly in the background while I watched Channing Phillips get on one knee in front of me.
He was glistening with sweat, "Will you go to prom with me?" he asked while gazing at me through long lashes—blonde hair messy with locks falling in front of his forehead.
"Yes," I huffed, "What in the world were you thinking?"
Aiden's goofy smile appeared the same time he shrugged, "I Googled what females like and six out of the eight articles I read said Magic Mike."
I shook my head just as the laughter started bubbling, "You're full of surprises, Aiden Phillips."
He joined my laughter with his own youthful chuckle, "I actually enjoyed that. I think I'll either be an owner of a five-star restaurant or a male stripper at an Alexeev nightclub."
"Why not both?" I suggested, "Cook at daytime and Magic Aiden at night?"
He paused for a few solid seconds as if he really was considering it. I smacked his arm.
"You know..." I smiled softly as I stared at Aiden's joyful entirety, "Viktor would love that."