Lucas
May 20, 2016. Friday afternoon.
I just finished eating lunch at one of the mall's restaurants and started to take a leisurely stroll around the mall, which was hustling and bustling with teenagers and children, the latter of which was accompanied by their parents or guardians.
Practically everyone was doing last-minute shopping for school supplies. All classes, from grade school to college, would resume in two weeks--On June 6, 2016.
In two weeks, I will officially be attending Orion University as a business major even though a part of me desired to take up Fine Arts.
Growing up, I spent a good chunk of my childhood in my makeshift studio in the mansion, doing nothing but sketching and painting until the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps it was simply a hobby. Maybe a temporary passion. But all I knew was I started dabbling in art when I was at the tender age of seven and haven't stopped since.
I'm now eighteen years old and an incoming college freshman at the university of my choice.
For the next hour, I quietly roamed the mall, wounding through my routine whenever I went to any mall: I rode the elevator to the music store and browsed some new albums. Afterward, I climbed inside an escalator heading to the movie cinema to scan the list of movies showing. Next, I faintly craved a sugary treat, so I strode on the route towards my favorite doughnut shop.
Strangely coincidental, but wherever I went--the music store, the movie house, and now, as I stood in the short line at Krispy Kreme, my brown eyes caught a glimpse of a young girl standing at the front of the queue.
I wasn't the only person looking at her. Most of the guys inside the doughnut cafe were not very subtle in stealing glances at the girl. She didn't even seem to comprehend that people were boldly raking their stares over her.
The girl wore her long, coffee-colored hair in a high ponytail held back by a green scrunchie, exposing her bare neck. She had dark brown eyes behind a pair of oval eyeglasses, her lips full and pink, her cheeks soft and rosy red, and her eyelashes were long and mesmerizing. I was tempted to think she had makeup on, but as I squinted for a closer inspection, her face was completely bare of cosmetics.She looked beautiful without even trying.
And she was modest--the stranger, most likely sixteen or seventeen years old--was dressed in a practical taupe, round-necked blouse with butterfly sleeves and a hemline that accentuated her small waist. Her pants were a simple blue and her sneakers were green and white.
"Sir?"
"Sir,a re you ready to order?"
I blinked repeatedly. "Excuse me?" I turned left and right before realizing I was the next customer at the counter and the cashier was snapping her fingers to catch my attention.
With patience in her tone, the girl behind the counter repeated her earlier question. I cleared my throat out of sheer mortification and gave her my order of two doughnuts and one iced coffee.
After I paid for my snacks, I spun on my heel and exited the pastry-scented cafe.
My feet took me to the mall's Food-Court which was located underground.
The Food-Court was teeming with noisy children and most of the tables were occupied by small groups of teenagers eating junk food while taking unending snapshots of themselves.
Fortunately, there were a couple of empty square tables and I was idly pondering on which table to vacate when all of a sudden, my phone rang inside my pocket.
"Hello?" I said upon answering the call.
"Did you buy the crap yet?" Bryce replied without preamble.
I sighed. "School supplies. Not crap. School supplies. And no, I haven't."
"What the heck have you been doing the past three hours?" my twin demanded.
"Eating. Strolling," I answered into the phone.
I heard him snort. "You sound like a grandma."
"Stop worrying. I'll get the supplies as soon as I'm done with my snack."
"What do you mean, snack? Didn't you say you just ate?"
I kept my agitation under wraps. "I ate, then I strolled, and now I'm eating again. Needle me one more time about my food lifestyle and I will end you."
"Just don't forget, man. Pens. Notebooks. Paper pads. Envelopes," he cited.
Silence from my end of the line.
"Dude?" my brother asked.
"Bryce, do you think I should accept that blonde girl's offer?"
"What? That nut in the pink dress? Not again, man. We've been over this. It's been six weeks since that freaky chick talked to you. Why are you bringing this up now?"
I pressed my black phone closer to my ear. "I just.. I'm curious. And what if she's right? What if the girl she wants to set me up with is the one I'm supposed to meet? What if--"
"WHAT IF both of those girls are mentally unstable?" Bryce butted in. "What if they have a criminal record? What if this is all a meticulous trap to lure us to our dooms??"
"You watch too much C.S.I." I drew out another sigh. "And you've gotten more insensitive since the last time I saw you."
Bryce scoffed. "That was two days ago."
"Exactly." I chuckled at my lame joke.
"I didn't think you'd be into another relationship after what happened with Azalea."
My brother's statement made me think hard. In my eighteen years of existence, I've only had two girlfriends, Azalea being the second. Our relationship wasn't consistent nor was it blissful. Only one month into our affair, she landed a job at a big modeling campaign for a German fashion brand. If she accepted, she would have to travel to multiple countries for her shoots, interviews and promotional tours--all of which would consume two years away from the Philippines.
Without hesitation, Azalea accepted the job.
If I was being honest, I didn't really miss her after she left the country. She had been the one who asked me to become her boyfriend. It was a one-sided relationship. Azalea liked me but I didn't like her that way. I only agreed to date her because I didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Our breakup didn't traumatize me," I said over the phone. "If anything, I feel freer. More liberated to see other people. I want to do this, Bryce. I want to take the risk."
My brother exhaled from the other end. "Fine. Don't say I never warned you." He disconnected the call before I could respond.
Pocketing my phone, I turned around only to see that the Food-Court was now packed with even more rowdy kids and boisterous teenagers. All the tables were brimming with people.
Sigh.
Wait a minute.
Sitting alone at one of the tables in one corner of the Food-Court, was the bespectacled brunette in a taupe blouse and jeans I spotted in the doughnut shop earlier. She was surrounded by two paper bags and two plastic bags loaded down with thick books and novels. There must be at least ten books in each shopping bag.
The young brunette wore a melancholic expression on her face. Her brown eyes were sullen, her pink lips were tightly glued together, and her shoulders were low. She looked like she was about to break into an emotional meltdown.Clutched in her right hand was an ice cream cone containing two scoops of creamy chocolate. She silently stared at the frozen treat for a moment.
And there.. a lone tear streamed down her left eye.
She used the back of her left hand to brush away the tear off her cheek.
Then she took a big bite out of her chocolate ice cream.
I don't know who that girl is.
But if she's anything like the person that the blonde stranger spoke of, maybe I'm making the right decision.
Nobody deserves to feel alone.
I took out my phone and dialed the number saved under 'Blonde In Pink'.
It rang once. twice.
Before the third ring, someone picked up my call. "Who the hell is this?"
She sounded just like Bryce.
"It's me. Lucas. From Starbucks?"
She paused before she smugly said, "I knew you'd call."
END OF BOOK ONE