The Ache Between Us

Chapter Twelve - Iris

He was everywhere. In my dreams. In my fantasies. In my desires. On the cover of every sports magazine, on television, he laughed while doing his interviews and smiled when being asked questions about his life. I couldn't escape him. Everywhere I went, every channel I flipped, every magazine on the shelf, it was all his face.

Rafael.

It was this cycle of being in this  torture chamber, where my heart was in neverending pain. It didn't stop or heal. I never got the chance to. He never gave me one. He was too busy out there, living his dream, and fuck if I wasn't so proud of him for making it. Because I was. I was so proud of the boy I knew who grew up and did everything he told me he wanted to do.

It was bittersweet. A part of me wanted to be by his side, holding his hand as he walked down the streets and events he always attended, while the other part of me wanted to murder him for seeming so happy without me.

As if he had moved on without me effortlessly, without an ounce of guilt. Maybe that's how it should have been for me. A life without regrets, but I had too many to ignore and too many to put on the side. There was this red ball of anger and hatred in the pit of my stomach when I first saw him on the news. When the CUSFC signed him, and it was every game and event after that. Rafael was unstoppable. He never lost any game he played. Everyone from all around adored him.

It didn't help that he grew up out of his boyish features. It showed in the sharpness of his face and the muscles that took place in his body. He was all suave and gorgeous all in one, and the idiot knew it. He knew his effect on the women who watched his soccer games, who interviewed him, or the ones with whom he took photos with on the streets. They were all mesmerized by the dark Colombian muscular man who kicked around a ball on a field for ninety minutes.

"Great work on the new article, Iris," Elle spoke, bringing me out of my thoughts, leaning in my doorway. "You nailed that arrogant prick to the fucking wall!" She cheered, throwing her hands up in the air proudly.

Elle worked in the office next to me. Elle was of average height with a pixie cut the color of bright red cherries and eyes so blue you'd think you were looking into the ocean. She was in a white v-neck that showed off her cleavage immensely and jeans that clung to every dip and curve of her voluptuous body.

"Yeah, you like the headline?" I arched my brow as I leaned back in my chair.

"Fucking love the snark. Anyways, I came by to tell you that we're all heading out for drinks later if you're down to join."

"Oh, I'm down." I chimed, and she gave me a huge smile, showing off her pearly whites.

She opened her mouth to speak before turning her head to the commotion happening outside the office. I could hear faint shouts and screams, and I stood up just in time to see Rafael and some men I saw from a few days ago barge right into my office, almost knocking Elle to the floor. Elle looked over at Rafael, his stuck-up lawyers, then back at me with wide eyes.

Rafael was dressed amicably in a three-piece all matte black suit just like the other day, but this time without a tie. His suit was unbuttoned, and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, exposing his bare chest to me. His scent hit me all at once, sweet and tangy citrus mixed in with fresh rain, and I hated how it brought up memories that I've tried hard to suppress.

Rafael was handsome when we were naive teenagers thinking we owned the world, but Rafael, as an adult, was an absolute contradiction. He was his own breed, a rare genre of handsome. He walked like he owned the damn place, every step filled with power, his aura exerting dominance and control. His eyes were the same color as jaded honeycomb, swirling together with wickedness and resentment.