• 5 •
The city lights, glitters in the dark that I never take for granted, are as beautiful as their heavenly counterpart: the stars.
In my balcony with a good friend, the hour is alive. Not in a sense that lively things are happening, like in a party or at a special event. The night is alive in a sense that its moments are raw. I feel real and conscious. I'm here in the city, twenty-two with big dreams and a goal to make ends meet, living in an apartment, sharing a bowl of fruits with a close friend as we talk about problems.
If we were in a movie, the scene comprises of perfectly minded cinematography. The vibrance of the fairy lights of my balcone is enhanced; the sky is set to the coolest navy blue; the warm lights from my dim room hit my face in the right angles.
Sounds beautiful. My next words ruined the mellow vibe:
"Should I slip in a poorly-written sex scene in chapter five just to see if Keenan will fuck the life out of me?"
Ralph choked on his watermelon. After a second of recomposure, he asked, "Is that what you've been thinking about the whole day?"
"What else would I be thinking about?" I folded my legs, bringing my knees to my chest, and locked my arms around myself, "How can I even think of anything else after what happened?" I sounded maniacal.
The motherfucking Keenan Travino, daddy of all book lovers, touched me. Intimately! For others, it's like being smacked in the ass by Justin Bieber, and the world doesn't even know. Not that I like JB, but if you're into books, Keenan Travino is a fame equivalent.
"Bad boys with issues were never your type," he pointed out.
"First of all," I yawned, "Keenan is not a boy. Second, he's different," Ralph snorted at the cliche phrase.
"Different?" he looks like shit as he tries to suppress his smile.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," I told Ralph, quoting Keenan.
Once I got home last Saturday, the first thing that my pathetic self did was masturbate because I did not know of any other way I can deal with the sensual frustration that the man had planted within me. That day, my fingers felt unusually good, and it wasn't even my fingers' fault—it was the thought of Keenan that brought me to the edge three times.
Ever since that third session, I've been living my days looking forward to the fourth. Only three interesting things happened in the past six days: first, my mother called to ask how I'm doing, and instead of pouring out my growing obsession with Keenan Travino, might as well had gone as far as to tell her that I want the man to bend me over his big desk, I instead told her that everything's well. Second, Ralph went on a date with a girl he genuinely likes. Third, I went to the fair with Adil.
After the Saturday session, mother dearest called me on Monday to check if I was still alive—her words, not mine. I think it would've been inappropriate to tell my mother that I want my mentor to bone me until I turn into a Gia pulp—juicy, limp, and all that. I steered the conversation away from the mentorship program, reassuring her that I am learning a lot, and that it's worth spending time on.
Keenan is constantly on my mind and I hate it. I've always been the type of girl who obsesses over her latest life happenings. If I'm working on a book, I obsess over it. If I hear a nice album, I obsess over it. If I watch a great goddamn movie, you bet your ass I'll watch behind-the-scenes clips and cast interviews.
As for Keenan? I became a private investigator. His parents are dead, he has a half-sister, he dropped out of college, he once bought a sports car, and he's a Scorpio. That's all the new info that the internet had to offer.
I shall never admit to anyone that I squealed when I found out that our zodiac signs are compatible.
On Wednesday night, as I was tweaking with Terrence and Karylle's sexual-tension-filled scene which Keenan spontaneously re-enacted with me, Ralph barged into my apartment. Because the man does it almost every night, it would not have been a big deal. What made his impulsive visit interesting, however, was his demand for a fashion advisor. Seen as I was conveniently one wall away, I became the said advisor, helping to the best of my ability.
When I found out the reason for the emergency, which happened to be a first date with a co-worker, I smacked his second head for not telling me sooner. Judging from the squeaky bed and the 'Fuck, Ralph, baby!' I heard at two in the morning, I'd say that the date went incredibly well. I can't even remember the last time I agreed to sex things up on a first date.
On Thursday, yesterday, Adil and I went to the fair he was talking about. As friends, of course.
The night prior, we texted a lot. The conversation shifted to his preceding invitation, and sometime into the night, I found myself agreeing to go with him the next afternoon. We met at the same diner. As I promised myself, I bought another one of the guiltful chocolate milkshakes along with chicken wings.
The carny wasn't anything special. It's exactly like the few ones I had been to when I was a child. We rode the carousel, the ferris wheel, and we both won teddy bears. By won, I mean that we played again and again until we spent more than the bears' original cheap cost.
I wanted a good time and I sure did get it. What I didn't want was to lead Adil on, so to turn the situation towards the friendzone's favor, I treated him indifferently. I made my nonverbal messages very clear. I hope he read them.
I named my light purple bear D8BFD8 because her exact color is Thistle and Thistle's hex code is D8BFD8. I was feeling like Elon Musk.
Tomorrow offers a fourth mentorship session. Am I going to stay after he dismisses again? I don't know.
I am undecided with how I want to deal with my growing attraction to the man. I'm pretty sure that despite the blueberries that I put in his pants last week, he's not that into me. How could he? I wouldn't call myself ugly, but the man can have any woman he wants, and surely it'll be someone other than some girl eleven years younger than him who sleeps with a purple teddy.
If I am only entertainment for him, then it should be mutual. I shall surpass this Daddy Keenan phase and once I do, everything will be back to normal. For the meantime, I'll let the universe decide if we're gonna be having more fun. I winked at the universe.
Ralph yawned, ruining the reverie that had my eyebrows coming close to each other.
"I should go to bed," he got up from the blanket he laid on my terrace floor, "You should get some rest. You're gonna need it for that stud."
"You're right," I held my hand up, indicating that I wanted him to pull me up. Without reluctancy, he did, "Thanks for the food," I said, never failing to be grateful for all the times we share resources.
I walked Ralph to the door even though it was totally unnecessary. After a brief goodnight, I locked myself in my apartment. I hopped into bed and snuggled D8BFD8, inhaling her scent which is the same as mine. We share my perfume.
I did my best to push away all thoughts Keenan-related and in the end, it paid off. My jaw slackened, my shoulders dropped, my eyes stopped moving, and my fingers loosened around my bear.
I woke up with fragments of my dream. Whenever I dream and wake up, I force my mind to grasp whatever I can, but the fantasies always slip away. Only a few frames of the video-like unconscious imagination remain. I reviewed the blurry pictures in my head and sure enough, Keenan's included.
Instead of forcing myself to remember what I won't be able to remember, I hauled my ass from my bed and pushed myself to the bathroom. Eyes half-closed, I stripped out of my shirt and cotton shorts, brushed my teeth, and stood under the shower. The man-made rain woke me up like weak coffee.
Once I was done with my morning bathroom duties, I sauntered to my kitchen area with a towel on my head and clean lingerie on my body. Skipping the boring mundane details, I found myself dressed, full, and ready for the day in less than an hour. I think.
What time is it?
With the dream occupying my attention first thing in the morning, I never really checked the time. When I did, I flew out the door.
"Fuck me," I muttered under my my breath, or rather, what's left of it as I bolted down the stairs. Remember when I said that no one complains about the broken elevator? I am now the first.
Descending the steps was like a workout and by the time I made it to the main entrance, I felt like my skirt was two sizes loose. Why am I wearing a skirt when I rarely do? Ask Satan, he knows my naughty little secrets.
My baby Lemon ran like a baby cheetah. This cheetah, however, had to stop for red lights. Glancing at the digital clock, I estimated that I'll arrive at the Travino residence at least thirty minutes late.
The three McDonalds I passed were red and yellow demons whispering 'Buy drive through' on my way to the session.
David, the friendly guard handling Keenan's gates, greeted me a good afternoon which I threw back with as much jolliness as I could muster in one second. The clock read 2:41 when I pulled up in front of Keenan's front steps.
As soon as the engine died, I zoomed to his door. "Shit," I cursed before ringing the doorbell. When nothing happened after two whole minutes, I pushed the button again. He told you not to be late, you dumb fuck.
Mr. Travino's heavy footsteps finally sounded from the other side. To confirm that it's him, I heard the man groan 'Fucking shit.'
My mutant smile which is a cross between a beam and a cringe was in place and ready to greet him along with an apology. When the door swung open, I had never wanted to be fucked so bad.
Keenan, mouthwatering Keenan, appetizing, flavorsome, delicious, and tasty Keenan Travino was bare from the waist up.
And I'm not the type of girl who squeals and flushes over shirtless men, but Keenan Travino hits different. For me, at most.
To confirm that Keenan Travino truly is the man before me and not an incubus incarnate about to plant seeds in my womb (and I'll let him, trust me), his signature glare was on his pretty face. An unlit cigarette was resting on his ear. His hair is a mess, and this time, not the usual mess. It's a legit mess with strands out of place and locks in crazy directions.
He rubbed his eyes furiously before folding his arms in front of his chest that I would gladly lick.
Oh, Gianna, you were once a faithful church girl.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he grumbled, eyeing me from top to bottom.
My head cocked to the side, "What do you mean? It's Saturday," I copied his position, crossing my arms and glaring flatly.
Keenan closed his eyes and shook his head, "Some people are just so fucking dumb," when he opened his eyes again, he was glaring harder than before, "Didn't you get the text?" he snapped.
"What text?" I asked with the same level of anger, though I already had an idea of what the text might have said.
"That today's meeting is cancelled," his jaw ticked and even that was hot.
Bummer, "Well, calm down, Squidward," I scoffed and gestured to Lemon. Now that I'm looking at the driveway, none of the others' cars were present, "I can just go home. It's no big deal."
Please stop me. I turned for my car and walked down the steps. You still have ten seconds to stop me.
"Gia," came his deep voice filled with authority he established, "Come inside," he still sounded angry.
"No," I told Mr. Travino, "It's fine. I'm going home."
"Gianna," he warned, reminding me of a mad parent. He is daddy, after all.
I sighed, annoyed, and faced the man again, "What?" I spat.
"I told you to come inside," he said, calmer this time, though not the good type of calm, "Or did you suddenly forget how to walk?"
Lips in a straight line, I stomped up the five steps again and walked past Keenan, trying to ignore his effect on me when my bare arm brushed against his torso, and failing awfully.
"Don't you give me an attitude in my house," Travino spoke as he trailed behind me. I landed on the black sofa I first sat on when I first went to his house. How has it been three weeks already?
"Me? With an attitude?" laughing dryly, I waved weakly in the air.
He narrowed his eyes, intensely watching me as he took the cigar on his ear, his lighter from his pocket, and lit the damn excuse for an incense. With the stick between his lips, he murmured, "You're so fucking annoying."
"Then why did you let me in?" I asked. Are we going to fuck yet?
Last week's scene entered my head again. The fact that Keenan Travino is holding a public showcase of his upper body wasn't helping my horny fucking cause.
"Act nice," he ordered, "I have a guest coming."
"If you have a guest coming, then shouldn't I be on my way?" I voiced a not-so-stupid question.
"Act nice," he only repeated, emphasizing his words with frustration, "And wait here."
"Why? Where are you going?" I half-yelled as he headed into the foyer and up the stairs.
I heard him say one more line before he ascended the staircase and disappeared from my view; "Shut your mouth, goddamnit."
Confused and interested, I did what he told. I shut my mouth and sat quietly on the chair, wondering what the hell is going to go down this time in Keenan Travino's mansion.
One thing about people who express their dislikes freely is that they're easy to get real and comfortable with. There won't be a plastic friend phase. Just three weeks ago I was on the same sofa, heart leaping out of my chest only to jump back in and do the same thing over and over again. Ralph had a similar blunt personality when I first met him, and it didn't take long before our fun banters began.
Keenan seems like a fun person to annoy.
Before I withered into a skeleton, I heard his same steps down the stairs. When Mr. Travino reemerged into the living room, he did not look like Mr. Travino.
"Who are you?" I narrowed my eyes at a Keenan in a clean white button-up, silver eyeglasses, and hair brushed back. No cigarette too.
At the peak of my confusion, he decided to relieve some, "That's a stupid question, Gia," he rolled his eyes as he buttoned his shirt all the way up.
"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath at the tight neckline. He struggled with the collars and the top buttons and if you think I'm helping him, you're wrong.
He unbuttoned the first two, partly crumpling the shirt in the process. Now who's stupid?
"Can you tell me what's going on?" I shot a necessary query.
"Act nice," he said again, "My sister's visiting and she'll ask about the program. I need you to tell her the truth: that I'm the best mentor ever."
My courage was starting to come out, "So, you want me to... lie?"
He glared. Again. If I don't say otherwise, assume that he's glaring, will ya?
"Are you implying something?" his brow had more sass than my whole entirety.
"No, I was just asking if you wanted me to lie," I answered truthfully.
Exasperated, he spoke, "The truth, Gianna," the truth, Gianna, I mimicked with a deep voice in my head.
"Are you sure?" I had to ask, because if I tell the truth, shit shall hit the fan.
Keenan scratched the back of his head, a lock falling out its place, "Just make it sound like I'm the best at what I do."
Under what context? If sex, then I need proof.
Feeling bold and amused, I asked another question, seeking for the limit, "What's in it for me?"
"Nothing," he answered sluggishly, "You're going to do as you're told because you like me."
Excuse me?
"Like you?" it was my sassy brow's turn to rise. It seems that not only is he an ill-tempered ass, but also a conceited little fuck.
He did not answer and instead turned his head to the sound of a car pulling up outside.
Another question was asked, this time by him, "How do I look?" if he's conceited, my answer won't matter.
Knowing that he can't risk lashing out when the sibling he wants to impress is right behind the front door, I answered, "Shrek looks better than you."
He bit his lip to suppress a sailor's colorful chain of insults. Keenan then gestured to a butler to open the doors.
"Take your laptop out and pretend you're busy," he told me before he disappeared into the foyer again. I did what he told.
I couldn't see who entered, but I heard her.
"Kiki!"
I choked on oxygen. Do you love me?
"Oh, Kiki, you'll never hear the end of this," I whispered as I typed line after line of random letters.
"Alicia, don't call me that," Keenan laughed. Keenan laughed. Laughed. It was Keenan who laughed. It was a real laugh.
"I love what you did with the place," she spoke sweetly, their voices getting louder.
"I didn't change anything in the foyer, but thanks," was Keenan's reply. I busied myself with my PC.
From the corner of my blue eyes, two figures walked in: one in white and one in silky burnt orange. I lifted my head and saw the female version of Keenan. If I thought Keenan was hot, his sister is otherworldly.
She gasped when she saw me, "Is that her?" Alicia's voice turned shrill, "Is that Janella?" Janella?
Keenan's eyes flew to me, "No, Janella's..." he trailed off, "Prettier," ouch?
Janella? Prettier? So he is taken?
"My name's Gianna," I stood up, one hand carrying my device as the other was offered to Alicia, "Nice to meet you."
"Oh," her smile faltered, "Nice to meet you, Gianna," Keenan's sister shook my hand loosely.
As if Keenan saying that this Janella girl is prettier than me did not do the trick, Alicia's appearance did. In an instant, I felt insecure.
Alicia Travino is a head-turner. Long brown tresses fell softly down her lower back, tickling the skin exposed by her mulberry silk dress that ended mid-thigh. Her tan skin is as flawless as flawless gets. She seems like the type of woman who never lives a month without attending at least one yacht party.
"Gia is my mentee," added Keenan who is not my crush anymore.
"Ooh, perfect," exclaimed Alicia as she say down, "How's my brother as a mentor? I'm the one who forced him to say yes to Contented because it's owned by my boyfriend. You can call me Ms. Travino."
Of course. Of course her boyfriend is a CEO. And I'm guessing Janella is a gorgeous influencer? A model? An actress I don't know of? I saw it coming, though it bothers me the same.
Keenan was looking at me threateningly and expectantly. I would love for the situation to backfire on him, but it already backfired on me.
"He's great," I told the sister, "He's very patient."
"Keenan? Patient?" Alicia laughed mockingly, "Are you sure we're talking about this guy, Gia?" she pointed at Kiki who, I repeat, is not my crush anymore.
"Yes," I chuckled too, "He's patient and he's very creative. He has interesting ways of teaching. He even lets me stay after sessions for some more lessons."
Alicia could not believe her ears, "Wow. He's never gotten mad at you?"
Behind Alicia, Keenan's eyes were lazer slits aimed at me.
"Not yet," I said to the woman, "But I won't blame him if he does. I am pretty annoying," I smiled sickly sweet at Mr. Travino.
"For Kiki, everyone's annoying," she commented.
Wanting to cut the girls' conversation short, Keenan spoke up, "You wanna see what I did to the library, Ali?"
Alicia got to her feet with a ballerina's grace, "I do. Gia, you coming?" there was something off with her cheerful tone.
"I'll be leaving, actually," I closed my PC and stuffed it into my bag, "I have somewhere else to be."
Once I stood, Alicia's eyes took me in from head to toe. Is that a Travino thing?
Behind her brown eyes, the woman was judging me. "Too bad," said Ali, "It was nice meeting you, Gianna."
"It was nice meeting you too, Ms. Travino."
I was able to flash them one last smile which lasted until I reached the front door. Then, it was replaced with a scowl. I stomped to Lemon and although she isn't a descendant of Herbie, I talked to her.
"I feel stupid, Lemon."