My mind was fogged. Every thought was dedicated to him, as I questioned, what made me so delusional and naive.
Of course, a person who approached you in such a way wouldn't want something more than sex, but the same person also carried me into his car and cared for me.
What a confusing day...
But at least I have Carlos, whom I'll finally see in the next seconds, as soon as the elevator door opens. Two apartments to my left and right and one on the opposite side, where we live.
The key slipped into the keyhole, unlocking the plain white door, and sauntered in the floor, highlighted by pink walls and flowers on the shelves. Still shaking from the cold, I made my way to my bedroom, changing into comfortable clothes before joining my guy best friend on the sofa.
"GIRL WHERE WERE YOU? WHO GOES CLUBBING WITHOUT A FUCKING PHONE, I WAS WORRIED!" He shouted at me and placed the already cold tea in front of me.
Some strains of Carlos' dark brown, wet, curly hair fell into his face, prohibiting my view of his umber-coloured almond eyes. His face was usually covered with makeup, so seeing him without any was a rare sight. His magenta bathrobe caught my attention.
"Listen Car, I got home safely and nothing happened." He frowned, stirring his tea.
"Which killer will be at our doorstep tomorrow?"
I laughed and nipped a bit. "No one don't worry."
Suddenly his eyes fixated on my chest and I looked down as well. "Okay. Which hell of a door-to-door selling man stuck a business card between your boobies?"
I cackled and handed him the card over. "The same door-to-door selling man who drove me here." "Great. Which contract did you conclude?"
"None..." I declared, completely silenced by my thoughts. I still smell his citrusy scent and the sudden images in my head of his smile wouldn't stop appearing.
"Look, I've met someone..." "Not again." He rolled his eyes and massaged his forehead as if I caused him a severe headache.
"Listen. This time he's actually not bad."
"Okay, go on. I'm hearing you out."
I sorted my thoughts and decided to start with his eyes.
"He has these dark green eyes..."
"Uh huhhh okay try not to disappoint..." He tapped on his lips, nodding meanwhile.
"He has blonde long ha-"
"Yeah bye."
Carlos got up and acted like he would exit the room. I laughed out loud, shouting his name and that he should come back.
"Nuh-uh."
"HE IS A CEO!"
Mentioning money always works. He instantly ran back into the living room and jumped onto the cream-coloured sofa.
"A WHATTTTT!!??"
"A CEO."
Carlos started kicking his feet and screaming into the fluffy pillow.
"Of what kind of company."
"IT stuff. Security systems and shit."
Edge Force... I'll look it up later.
He started grabbing after my shoulders and violently shaking me. "SO HE'S A BILLIONAIRE?" "Maybe. I don't know." "GIRL GET THAT BAAAAGG!!!"
My best friend is always pretty materialistic when it comes to love. Yet that doesn't apply to his view on friendships. He was my bestie, even though I was at my lowest. As a student, my loan wasn't good enough to help pay for the apartment's rent, so he scrounged his dad's money. I pulled him into a hug. "Money isn't that important, you know." "But a nice bonus. He's blond. That equalizes it."
"What makes you hate blond men so much?"
"It's a personal preference. If a woman has blonde hair, it's gorgeous. But if a man has it. Nah."
He grabbed a nail file from our little couch table, taking care of his nails. "Is he muscular?" "From what I felt...Very." Carlos smiled proudly.
I grabbed after his hand, observing his hot pink nails, set with glitter. This is probably the longest size he ever had.
"How many inches?" I would love to do my nails as well if my job wouldn't exist out of designing and handcrafting.
"Well I don't know but from what you have told me, I guess like seven, eight?" "Carlos. I'm talking about your nails." "Oh."
We continued talking about Matteo and with shaky hands I went to bed, deciding to text him.
My fingertips grazed over the matte material and typed his number in.
<<Hey, it's me, Lara.>>
Out of embarrassment, I placed the phone on my nightstand. It wasn't even a risky text, but the thought of him responding was scary enough.
Maybe he doesn't even want to work with me and just try to get me into his bed?
If that's his game, I'll play along. I'm already intrigued by the next step of his.
My eyes started to hurt and it's too late to waste my day off tomorrow for sleeping all day.
He's a CEO. How do I keep up with his money and materialistic view of life? Do I have a wrong impression, or is he different? Something inside told me, to try. But there's a high chance, that I won't receive a text. No situationship lasted longer than a day and I'm slowly starting to doubt myself and my personality.
My overthinking led to a slow sleep. However, the entire opposite from peaceful.
6 years ago, in San José, California.
I just finished tearing out weeds from our garden, together with my mother. "I'll make us some rice, is that fine with you?" She questioned, leading me into our small house, far away from the main city. "Yes. Thank you Mãe."
Since my father died in a car accident a year ago, we moved here. Our life in Brazil was just fine, but here, the bills are too expensive. My mother must work hard and I would be left home alone or at high school. Or with my brother and I send my prayers to god that he won't come home high. If Gabriel is under drugs, I leave the house the next day with several bruises and a swollen eye.
My heart pumped rapidly, glancing up the stairs, in the hope I would see his lights turned off, through the door slit. But they were on. He was with us. I felt tears swelling in my eyes, grabbing after my mother's arm sleeve, pulling it. "I'll check up on him." My mom, Maria, murmured, nodding towards the kitchen table. "You'll only get hurt, don't."
An apologetic smile formed on her lips, while she caressed my hair. "I know. But he's my son after all, even though he doesn't show the same affection for me. I don't want to let him down in this hard time."
My worries grew more and more. Every time I was too scared to go upstairs, I slept in the living room. But Gabriel wasn't always like that. The major problems are drugs and how they bring the worst out of someone. In our childhood, he was always so good to me. The best big brother you could imagine. But this version of him was just a monster, that part-time care for me didn't mean anything to me. Hatred can blind you, maybe it's normal for your brother to nearly choke you to death.
I froze in place, seeing my mother coming downstairs with a disturbed face. Her tanned skin is now pale as chalk. "Mãe...?" "Stay here. Don't come upstairs." She dialed a number in her phone and walked into the kitchen. I didn't hear Gabriel's usual rage screams and slurs. I fought the urge to go upstairs and pull a blanket over my head. Mom has been through a lot and very little things would bother a strong woman such as herself. I wish Gabriel would be dead and never see him again.
Sirens. The police. Everything happened so quickly. She opened the door, nearly drowning in her tears. "U-Upstairs, the left door." The officers nodded and one comforted her, rubbing her shoulder. What happened? What have you done, you fucking monster? What crime have you done? A peek at the door was enough to see. Emergency doctors stormed the house. Now, my question is:
Gabriel, what have you done to yourself?
The people with jackets in neon colours rushed up the stairs and it was just a matter of time before I was going to see him.
There.
I was ready to see him covered in blood or anything related to it, but it was the whole opposite. His body lay slack on the patient stretch, with his head turned to my side. His skin was completely white, just like his previously black eyes with the addition of many red veins. His raven black hair was entirely disheveled. His previous pink lips stood wide open. In shock, I followed the drama, waiting for the worst words I have heard in my life. The doctor entered the living room with a hanging head.
"Miss and Ms Sequiera? I'm sorry to announce this but your son and brother passed away, by cause of an overdose."
I suddenly felt the exact same pain, as if someone stabbed me in my heart. Slowly bleeding out.
I wished him to be dead, but now, that it happened, I promised myself to never wish for a person's death ever again.
No matter how often I got strangulated, kicked, slurred at, or beaten by him. He didn't deserve any of that. He was just seventeen. May he finally find a place without his shitty friends, to rest in peace and reflect on himself.
My mother hugged me tightly, kissing my forehead. I pressed my face into her collarbone, feeling her curly cacao-brown hair tickling my skin.
"We live in peace now, little one." She softly whispered with a tremulous voice, caressing my back.