We stay at the little pond for hours. The sun sinks low into the sky, casting an orange hue around us.
"Its even more beautiful when the sun is setting." I muse, gazing at the sky's reflection in the water.
"It is." Marcello's voice echoes mine, sharing the same tone of awe.
I glance up to see him looking at the tree to the right of us intently. His brows are furrowed and lips are pursed as he seems to be in deep thought.
"Are you oka-"
Before I can finish my question, he swoops down quickly and captures my lips with his own.
What?
My eyes stay wide in shock, but eventually flutter closed as his lips stay pressed on mine. The same sparks from before appear, but this time I feel the familiarity of them and allow myself to get lost in it. Before the kiss can escalate further, he pulls away.
"Why?" He asks, mostly to himself.
"What?" I ask, still in a state of shock.
"Why do you do this to me." His eyes slowly capture mine, causing my breath to hitch. The genuine emotions in his eyes have me breathing heavily.
"What? Did I do something wrong?" I ask as I study his face for a possible explanation.
He doesn't answer.
Instead, he settles for staring at me.
"Marcello? What did I do wrong?" I ask worriedly, hoping I didn't unconsciously hurt him.
"You didn't do anything wrong. It's nothing. Just forget about it." He says, seeming angry as he shoots up from his sitting position and moves to walk away.
Before he can take a step forward, I catch his hand and yank it. "Don't leave. You can't just kiss someone, tell them they did something wrong, then walk off. Why're you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself." He replies, still not looking at me.
"Why?" I ask softly, wanting an answer desperately.
He seems so vulnerable, his eyes expressing more emotion than I thought he was capable of.
"For feeling this way." He mutters angrily and storms off before I can ask any further questions.
I scramble up, running after him, but it's too late. He's already in his car and sped off.
What was that?
What just happened?
Did he just leave me?!
How am I getting back to the house?!
I don't even know where I am. Fear rushes through my veins as I glance around. He blindfolded me on the way here. I have absolutely no idea where I'm at.
And I left my phone in his car.
My breathing comes in rapid spurts as I continue to twirl around, trying to look for anything that will give me a hint as to where I'm at.
I find nothing, and come to the conclusion that I'm most likely stuck here.
An angry tear slides down my face, and I wipe it angrily. I can't believe he left me.
And after kissing me!
What kind of person does that.
The kind of person that runs a whole mafia and murders people without thinking twice. My subconscious reminds me.
Oh yeah. I have to remember who he is.
A prick that doesn't care about anyone else but himself.
And I was just getting to like him. He actually seemed sweet for a hot second.
Ugh.
And on top of all that, it's getting dark! The sound of crickets chirping has me groaning and wiping my face tiredly.
This seriously isn't a very good birthday present.
With a sigh, I stomp over to the blanket and angrily plop down. Marcello better watch out, because I swear, I'll shave that b*stard's hair off in the middle of the night.
I'll put toothpaste on his toilet seat and soak his pillows in vinegar.
A tan envelope still sits in the basket, causing me to pick it up curiously.
On the back, my name is written in big, cursive handwriting, and I can't help but to admire its neatness.
I open it, to find a thick piece of paper I've only seen in art class back in my highschool days. The texture is rough and seemingly expensive.
I stop my assessment of the paper, and focus on the writing it contains.
Dear Brimmy,
I've had this mapped out in my head, and figured it could've only ended two ways: 1. I actually manage to tell you and we can discuss things, or 2. I storm off before I can tell you. Knowing myself well, I'm pretty sure it's the latter rather than former. If you're reading this, that means I did storm off and you've found this letter. Don't worry, I've already prepared someone to come pick you up if this was the case. Please know that this isn't your fault, and I'll try to explain when you get home. Thank you and happy birthday.
-Marcello
My mouth opens in shock as I read the letter.
He knew this was gonna happen before it even happened, he could've restrained himself knowing this was an option. What a jerk.
I let out a sigh of relief once I'm informed that someone will be here to pick me up, but can't stop myself from wondering what he was gonna tell me.
And why did he get so upset?
My mind races as I think of any possibility, but some up with a blank.
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.
I'm so gonna yell at him when I get back to the house.