𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐋𝐈

• 41 •

Airplanes scare me. Travelling is amazing and if I get the chance, I'd travel the whole world. The beauty of travel, however, is not enough to make me ignore the horror of planes. I know a lot of people who consider the plane ride as an exciting part of the whole trip, but not me. I hate them. I've stripped myself of all hope that I'd be able to survive a plane crash if—but hopefully not—one happens. I'd be a fried Gia. That is, if my body's still intact.

That's why I turn into a devoted child of God an hour away from every flight. I've always believed that it's personal faith that matters, so whatever religion's sure, I don't know and I don't care, but I appreciate the bit of relief I get once I pray. If it helps, take it.

I leaned to my right, speaking closer to the phone on the passenger's seat, "Yes, I've bought a ticket."

"Good," said Mother, "Now do me a favor and bug Ralph one last time."

I smiled to myself, "I shall."

It's a Friday afternoon—almost evening. I got out of work early and am now headed to the house of the man I've been ignoring for a week. I've been distancing myself from Keenan and I'll keep it up until I make a decision to either leave, stay and hide my feelings in the shadows, or tell him how I feel and hope for the best but also expect the worst.

I haven't seen him since last Friday. A week had passed. We have not been totally out of contact; Keenan messaged me twice. On Monday, it was to send me an edited draft of Terrence and Karylle's nth chapter. I'm still working on the book but progress has been slow since I am now a working woman. Keenan also messaged me on Thursday night—last night. It was a simple 'Are you still alive?'

I made my non-expired existence known with a 'Yes' and the conversation took a turn discussing what we were having for dinner. Then it was steered to when we'll be having dinner again. In other words, when we'll be fucking again. That's why I'm on my way there now. We settled on Friday night.

"How are you, honey?" spoke Lauren through speakerphone.

"I'm fine," I mused, "Just been busy these days."

She hummed a suggestive tune, "With that guy again?" I narrowed my eyes at the traffic light, tsk-ing when it flashed red before the car in front of mine.

"Keenan? No, actually, I haven't seen him since Friday."

Mom spoke, "You sound sad."

"I'm not," I said. Just fucking torn.

An exclamation of pure excitement came after. I could imagine mom sitting up from her bed, the lightbulb above her head suddenly turning on. "Oh!" came her voice, loud, "Why don't you bring him with you?"

I looked oddly at the phone, "No, I don't think I want that."

Mom spoke, "But I do."

I sighed, "We're not... there yet." Yet?

The woman groaned, a sound of disgust from the back of her throat, "Boohoo. Give me his number."

"Excuse me?"

"I wanna talk to him," she said.

I shook my head even though she could not see, "That's unnecessary," I told Mom, "You know what? I gotta go. I love you."

"Way to avoid a conversation, Gia," she sighed, "go ahead. I love you too."

I reached for the phone and ended the call. Even though I'd been avoiding Keenan, his existence lingered. There wasn't a day in the week where he did not cross my mind. There was not an hour in a day that his name didn't flash behind my eyes. With that buildup, my nerves were on edge for the rest of the car ride. When David came into view and opened the gates for me, I was feverish. When I pulled up in the driveway and parked behind Sophia's orange car, I could feel the insistent beating of my heart seeming like it wanted to drown me with blood from the inside-out.

The sun had just set. The time on the dashboard told me that mentorship is just about to finish. I took a moment, using the visor mirror to see the face that Lauren Alexie had given me. After a touch-up for my lashes and lips, I willed myself to walk to the front door and ring the bell.

There were footsteps from the other side. Not from one person, but two. Or more. A high-pitched voice faded in, "I'm telling you, chapter six is perfect as it is. I don't get why you want it rewritten when I know the story more than you. I mean... it's my story!"

The door swung open and an annoyed Keenan came into view. Of all the times I've see annoyed Keenan, he's pretty easy to distinguish. The man's mouth is set in a grim line—grim like the rest of his expression. The corners only turned downward after Sophia's shrill "Gia!"

"Hey, Soph," I entered, taken into the young woman's embrace right away. Keenan stepped to the side, quite vexed as he rolled his eyes. Never the type to mask his irritation.

He went to the living area and we followed. Scattered across the room were four more people, all of them familiar since they've been introduced last week. Their curious eyes lingered on me still. "We're done," Keenan announced loud and clear, "Go home, people. Out. Now."

They did not need further indication. In a matter of ten seconds, everyone had made it to the door, nodding thanks to Mr. Travino when they passed him. Everyone except Sophia. The girl took her precious time gathering her things. She blabbered, "All I'm saying is that it's still my book and you've mistaken the little clues I put as unnecessary details. You could've asked first before you went all 'Ooh, Sophia, this is stupid, rewrite everything in one hour'," she did a pretty darn good Keenan impression, complete with an overdramatic face of anger. My stifled giggle received a scowl from the man himself.

The sigh of relief he let out when the front door slammed behind the woman was understandable. Without another word between us, only a shared look, he walked upstairs and I followed. If I am to be left alone in this place, I'd be lost and never found again. But being behind Keenan, we made it to his bedroom in no time.

It looked like the first time I saw it, minus the mirror on the ceiling. The bedroom's been cleaned, of course, and I wonder if Keenan did it himself or if he got someone else to do it. Maybe he got help. I didn't ask. I only watched as he walked to his bed, sat on the edge. I followed, standing between his legs.

I looked down at the man. Needless to say, he's gorgeous. I don't think he'll ever not be appealing to my eyes. I wasn't able to stop my hands from touching his face, only realizing the intimacy of it when I had his cheeks against my palms. I spoke, "You look very tired."

He was looking up at me, gorgeous browns glistening under dim warm light, "Have you seen her?" Ki spoke, "Better yet, have you heard her?"

I laughed to myself, "And I thought you could handle everything."

Two large hands settled on my waist and pulled me closer, "I can. I just don't want to." said Ki.

My head leaned to one side, "She can't possibly be that bad," my thumb brushed against his lips—fuck, do I want to kiss his lips, "Sophia's nice."

The hands on my waist moved to my hips. Then, they found the button of my jeans. Keenan spoke, softer this time, "Niceness is not the basis of my liking."

I kept staring at his lips. Since when did mouths become so... mesmerizing? I spoke again, "Don't scare them off."

He pulled my pants all the way down. "She's your long lost sister, Gia," he told me.

I smiled. Once I was pants-deprived, I straddled Keenan, planting a knee on either side of his lap. I kept myself steady by two hands behind his head. "So you think she's adorable?" I teased. I can be pretty cute sometimes. I think. Keenan cringed slightly at that.

My hands in his hair found his face again, pulling it close to mine. I'm not being clingy, am I? We're about to fuck so touchiness is not at all suspicious. God, it's as if my one week of emotional distancing didn't even happen. I kissed him. It was quick and simple, me pulling away right after. Keenan had other plans. He caught my lips again, a hand gripping my hair to keep me in place.

I moaned against his mouth. The fucker smirked. "Jealous?" he rasped. It was rhetorical. I'd say he brought it up remembering the last time I was jealous with Janella. He liked whatever the heck I became that night.

I bit his bottom lip and tugged, "Why would I be?" I whispered. Keenan's grip on my hips tightened. Right before he buried his face against my neck to kiss, I saw the small smile.

I'll miss him when I go home but I must admit that my mother's idea of dragging him along was ridiculous. "Keenan?" I whispered.

"Hm?" he lifted his head.

"I'm going home for the holidays," I began, "I leave in a few days."

His expression made me realize that I should've brought it up another time. "You're telling me this why?" he muttered before kissing down my neck and chest again.

Of course he doesn't care, Gia. He'd laugh it off you disappear. My eyes rolled. I'm starting to pick up that habit, "Just saying."

When I pulled away for a brief take-in of his face, I was overwhelmed by my sudden want. People never know what'll happen over the course of days, months, years. Whatever happens; wherever I end up in—a city of fools or a quiet town for the humble; whoever I end up with—the love of my life, my love in the moment, or maybe even alone, I'd like to remember that at some point in time, inside a locked room where my biggest fear and biggest joy are the same, I was in Keenan's arms—exactly where I wanted to be with exactly who I wanted to be with.

Even though he doesn't give a fuck about my whereabouts.

I kissed him again, eager. I wanted to memorize his lips—the softness, the warmth, the taste of Keenan. I wanted to instill the cloud-nine sensation in a way I can relive it. My hands gripped his shoulders and traced his arms, fingertips gentle when they caressed and desperate when they sunk. As if Keenan wanted to redefine perfection for me as a living entity, he matched my fervor.

Seconds later I was laid on a soft mattress. Our hands tugged at the rest of my clothing until I was bare. Same went for Keenan. His kisses started from my abdomen to my neck, lips hovering over skin. Looking up, the mirror I had gotten accustomed to was missing. Keenan entered the frame, blocking light.

"Be careful," I heard him mumble as his fingers reached their destination, "Call me if you need me."

Fuck. "I will," I'd call you right now.

Quiet hours followed the raging single. We were spent—visible and felt with our long breaths, messy hair, sweat, and tired eyes. My tired eyes were so tired that once again, Keenan Travino made the mistake of thinking I was asleep. Cliche as it sounds, we were a tangle of limbs with the man on his back and me on top, slightly diagonal in a way that I was looking straight at his face when lying on my cheek. The duvet was up to my chest, doing the most it could against the cold. Lucky for me, Keenan's warm.

I must look ugly. Not that it matters when the man you're with had already seen you with a busted lip and smudged mascara while drunk-crying. My eyes were closed, my breathing was relaxed, but I wasn't asleep. I didn't see, I only felt. I didn't see his hand move to my arm, I only felt. I didn't see him caress my skin with the tips of his fingers, I only felt. I didn't see the same hand move to my face and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, I only felt. And lastly... I didn't see him kiss my forehead, I only felt.

Keeping myself relaxed so I would not reveal my consciousness was task of the year, much more difficult than suppressing a laugh while Keenan apologizes to a stuffed bear.

He was awake for a long time. I kept wishing that I do fall asleep so I wouldn't be so suspicious, but the sense of him watching me from time to time kept me awake. Keenan busied himself with his phone, typing and scrolling through whatever. In my state, I couldn't keep track of time definitely but when I estimated the passing of a good thirty minutes, I opened my eyes.

I shifted, reposition my arms and wrapping them tighter around him. He tsk-ed, "Go back to sleep, Gia," the man grumbled. Since when did Keenan look so adorable? He's usually hot, not adorable.

I tested my luck. By tested my luck, I mean that I dug my hole deeper. "It's cold," I said, a trick in the big book of flirting for loons.

The doofus fell for it. Keenan sighed and turned his phone off, laying it on the bedside table. Inwardly, I was celebrating. I scooted upward, burying my face against the man's neck, realizing my favorite smell when I did. Okay, fine. I'll let go just tonight. Just this one night.

The thick blanket was pulled to my shoulders. Warmth on warmth shot through my skin when Keenan wrapped his arms around me. It was a good thing he couldn't see my face or else I would've been called out again for being a tomato.

"Goodnight," I mumbled.

"Sleep," the man grumbled.

I wasn't done, "Wouldn't hurt to say goodnight."

Quietness and more quietness. Why am I not surprised?

"Goodnight."

I lifted my head. I stared at Keenan. He had his eyes closed, obviously ignoring my reaction. I smiled to myself.

The night carried on, me waking up at eight in the morning. As expected, Keenan had flew nearly off the bed. I snickered to myself as I took my time in the bathroom, washing my face and getting dressed in his shirt because yes, whatever, I'm a simp. Since we didn't really eat last night—not food, at least—I was starving. I racked his fridge, stole enough ingredients for a sandwich, and ate.

That's all that happened. I went home before Keenan could wake up. I could've stayed, but Ralph needed my help with once fixing his tires again. Once the car work was done, we spent the afternoon exploring a compound of establishments beside the docks. It's where we met with Janella.

"I missed you," I said against her shoulder. Jan's one tall woman. Or maybe I'm just small.

"Same," she whined as she pulled away and did the same to Ralph, "Haven't see you people in a while."

My afternoon with the two was lovely. As we walked around and decided on where to have lunch, Janella spoke about her upcoming projects. It was entertaining to hear about the girl ramble about a different industry. I like hearing about how other people live their lives. Hence, the story-making.

We found ourselves agreeing on Italian cuisine. "Gia is in love but she won't admit it." spoke Ralph, having me choke on my pasta. I don't even know the exact dish.

Janella's eyebrows jolted up. She looked expectantly at me. I cleared my throat, wiped my mouth, and spoke, "I'm not." Yeah, right.

"See?" Ralph mused, "Told you she won't admit it."

It was my turn to give Jan the expectant look. She's been down this path before. Maybe not this far, but she'd certainly taken a couple steps. She drank some wine, "Giababes, I don't really know what to tell you. I dodged that bullet."

I knew that. I wish I had dodged too. I still have time to dodge. But do I want to dodge it? "If Keenan wasn't so incapable of the average romance, I wouldn't be so..." I trailed off, "so... refusing."

Ralph cut in, "But you know what I think?" he reached for some bread, "I think he feels the same," he told us, "I know that he feels the same."

I frowned at Ralph, "You're not him."

My best friend rolled his eyes, "Even though I'm obviously hotter, still, Keenan and I are both men. I know how we work."

I groaned, "But this is Keenan we're talking about."

Ralph sighed. His eyes flickered between me and Janella whose look had underlying sympathy for me. "What do you think, Jan?" asked Ralph.

She put her hands up defensively and slowly put them on the table, "I'm not updated. I don't know what happened and that's okay because I respect your privacy," she was looking at me, sounding like she was lecturing a child, "And Gia's right: Keenan is Keenan. But everyone can change. Personally, I didn't want to stick around for an uncertain amount of time to see if he does change, but Gia... Gia, it's your choice."

"That's the thing," I groaned and put my fork down, "I don't know either."

Janella spoke, "If there's one thing I'm sure about Keenan, it's that—"

"He hates people?" I cut her off.

"It's that he's honest when there's no reason not to be. If you want all uncertainties eliminated, you should ask him." she explained. Something told me, however, that love would be an exception. Love means vulnerability and Keenan hates vulnerability as much as dishonesty. Asking him myself is stupid.

My brows knitted together, "What? Ask him what?" I voiced, "If he's capable of loving me?" I cringed, "I'd scare him, Jan."

We heard a clink. Jan and I faced Ralph who also dropped his fork on the table. He waved a finger in the air, "Wait. Jan, that makes sense," he told Janella.

Next, he faced me, "And Gia, if you can't ask him, then..."

The future couple shared a look. After a beat, their eyes were both on me. I sunk in my chair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked them. I already had an idea of their idea but it felt immoral.

"We get someone else to ask him."

"Oh, Lord."

That's how we ended up in a cafe next to the restaurant, all seated around a small table with a phone in the middle flashing one man's name: Dominic Jensen.

"Let me get this straight," came his voice, "You want me to ask Keenan if..."

Ralph continued for him, "If he loves Gia."

The man on the other line let out a long "Umm..." and I couldn't blame him. I closed my eyes and leaned back on my chair, shaking my head.

Jan spoke, "Of course you're not gonna ask it right away. Go for drinks or something then bring up... I don't know..." she shrugged, "A fake wedding you recently attended. Then that'll lead to love, then that'll lead to relationships, then that'll lead to Gia."

There was a long moment of Jensen silence. "Gia?" he spoke.

"What?"

"Care to explain?" I heard Dominic say.

I let out a breath, body relaxing, "Fine. You were right."

"Care to word it better?" said Domino.

"You were right. I might love Keenan." emphasis on might.

"And you wanna know if he feels the same," he assumed. I kept quiet. It was a yes.

Dominic considered this, having two of my friends anxious for his answer. They sighed in relief when he said "Okay. Do you want to be near when this happens?" Dominic asked, accent prominent, "Do you want to hear it for yourself or..."

"Doesn't matter," I answered. We're setting the poor guy up.

"Then I'll leave it up to you. I'll do it on Thursday, around closing time. He'll be in the building for work."

Across me, Ralph celebrated. Janella smiled but like me, she was having doubts.

The call ended after giving thanks to Dominic. I kept zoning out for the rest of the day, overthinking about the what Keenan might say. He doesn't love me. I already know it. He'll probably say that it would be stupid of me to fall in love and that I should handle my emotions better. He'll say that it's immature and irresponsible.

We arrived at the apartment at four. The two decided on movies but it's not like we actually ended up paying attention to the film. We chatted. Correction: they chatted. I sunk into my beanbag and thought of ways to give my mother an abortion twenty-two years after the baby was born.

Eventually, it was time for Janella to go. Our goodbye was private, Ralph in the bathroom. "Gia, I'm gonna need you to look after your heart, okay?" she grabbed my hand and squeezed, "I'd hate it if anyone hurts you, Keenan or not. I'll throw hands."

I smiled reassuringly at the kind woman. "I will," I'll try, "Thank you, Jan."

She kissed my cheek, a very Janella thing to do, "See you soon."

I had one whole hour alone which I spent taking a shower until my mother called. Sitting in my beanbag, looking out into the city, I listened to the voice of my mother miles away. "The neighbors don't have gossip so instead I'm checking on my favorite daughter."

My head cocked back, frown appearing, "I'm your only daughter."

She laughed, "Yeah, that's probably why you're my favorite."

I gasped, "Mom!" the fucking disrespect. Though I gotta admit, it lifted my mood.

"Just kidding," she sang, "I wouldn't trade you for the world."

I narrowed my eyes at the nearby buildings, wondering if today is someone's best day ever, "What's up?"

"We're spending Christmas at your Uncle Byrne's house, just letting you know. They're excited to see you again."

I snorted, "They're not. They're just saying that."

"I know, but I told them that you're excited too and you're obviously not." said Lauren, "Onto other tales, have you told Keenan?"

At the mention of that godforsaken name, my head fell back against the rails, "Mom, I told you that I don't want him to come. And we're not there yet."

She hummed, "Have you asked him?"

"No," I stated, "because again, I don't want to."

She told me something I already knew, "Gia, you're a wimp."

I was quiet. I'm a wimp. If the odds shout love, Keenan's a bigger wimp. "I'm not," I told my mother, "I'm being safe."

"Safe?" she questioned, "You think he'll murder us?"

"That's not what I meant," I half-whined.

"I know, I know," she mused, "It's just that I don't see anything to lose, you know? But then again I'm proud that you're guarding yourself."

"What should I do?" I closed my eyes, "I think I like him more than I should."

"Tell him," was her simple answer.

"But," I began, "he doesn't do... traditional. What would you do if you were in my position?"

She was quick to catch on. Thank fuck for the influence of timely drama shows, "Ah. I'll wait."

"Wait for what?" I opened my eyes again, staring at nothing in the distance.

"A breaking point," she spoke indifferently. I could imagine it accompanied by a shrug, "Everyone has a breaking point. It's not the healthiest plan, but you asked me what I'd do and that's what I would do. If you ask me what I wish I would do, I'd say to walk away."

"So I just... suffer in silence?"

"It doesn't have to be suffering," she hummed again, thinking, "You can enjoy in silence. See where it goes."

"That is suffering in silence," I told her.

"Not really," Lauren began again, "You'll see what I mean if you try it. And I'm not just talking about your breaking point, hon, I'm also talking about his."

"But he doesn't like me like that."

"Then the breaking point would be a literal break-up," said Mom, "a clear indication that you're not for each other."

I thought about it, realizing that she redefined my initial perception of the term breaking point. She's not talking about an outburst or profession of love kept in, but of emotions in general. In that case, my fucking breaking point would be me telling Keenan the overflow of my heart. His would be him telling me that he's gotten so annoyed and tired that he wants to call it quits. And until then, I'll enjoy in silence. It's... not the best idea.

"What about walking away?" I asked.

"It seems like a guarantee of relief, no? you think that by walking away, you'd save yourself," Mom said, "but no. You'll be left thinking of the what ifs and that's worse."

"Goddamnit," I muttered, "what about confessing?"

"Whatever happens, at least you tried." was her response.

"I hate this," I glared at the rails.

"Understandable," she commented, "but hating the situation's not gonna scare it off."

"Okay, Jean-Paul, I think I've heard enough," I mumbled.

"If you open up now, you'll have the chance to flee when you go home here," she suggested, "Just saying."

I snorted. Sounds like something I'd actually do. "Thanks, Mom. See you soon, I promise. Love you."

"See you soon," said the woman,

"I love you."

Now only if I could hear that from another person in mind.

[a/n: i said theyd be longer but this is surprisingly not long. mehhh.
i also said it would take me a while to update but.. mehhh]