[High school romance]
Bad girl x good boy
"Don't be shy, Boris. If you want me to do something, to do something to you, to touch you the certain way or something else, you should just ask and I'm gladly going to do it. But don't be shy and embarrass...
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"So, are you finally going to tell me what happened?", I ask Mencía while leaning on the bar counter. Yeah. Out of all places we could go, we ended up in a club that we should be running the fuck away from. Yet, we aren't. We came here willingly in the middle of the day when it's kinda empty.
The bartender between the bar is mixing some drinks, cocktails to be exact, and he hasn't stopped glancing at Mencía's chest which is exposed because of the dress she's wearing.
It's the new one, a red silk dress that is hugging her body amazingly, her curves, her ass especially, but her cleavage is really deep. Like deeper than it was on that golden dress. She took this dress from a locker, saying that she had things there, and I gasped, saying that I don't. So, I could only take off my sweatpants and stay in the sexy laundry I bought with her. No, I didn't do that, but for some unknown reason, I wanted. Seeing her in that hot dress I didn't want to outstand and be in the stupid sweatpants. If only I stayed in those jeans I wore at Boris's.
I wanted to walk through the park, but she refused, saying that she headed to the club anyway, and seeing her broken like that I couldn't just leave her. So I told her to go to the club while I took Scar back home, hugged grandpa who was crying from happiness as he claimed, and he didn't want to let me go. I changed into my lingerie, kinda knowing that I was going to end up stripping down, and I told him that I had to be somewhere. He kept asking where, but I managed to tell him not to worry, and to stop fucking crying because I slept.
Though I can understand why was he doing that, but still I don't want to see him in tears, even though he claims those are the happy ones. I don't feel like crying, I feel like jumping and screaming though happily not like I did that day after I saw my reflection in the glass of the gas station where a worker threatened to call the police.
So, the club, yeah, I started describing it. Well, besides the fucking bartender who keeps eye-fucking Mencía, the club is kinda empty, with a few other workers, and slow music coming from the speakers, while the disco balls aren't rotating, and the lasers in every color aren't falling on the dance floor, that is empty as well and looks weird. The stage where I danced so many times is also empty, and I keep picturing the dancers twirling their bodies between the metal rods.
It's weird really since I'm used to the club full of men who are chatting, drinking, and flirting with prostitutes, and now they are nowhere to be seen. And one specific person is also nowhere to be found.
Mencía focuses her eyes on me, and I take another look at her gorgeous make-up that she redid. Now it's not smudged anymore, and she isn't crying anymore though the sadness is hiding between her emerald eyes.
I can't believe that this is the same woman who told me days ago all those hateful words that I'm not angry about. How could I be angry? They are just goddamn fucking truths that I tried to escape when it was too obvious.
I can't believe that this is the same woman who was fearless when Manuel put a knife under her chin. She had no emotions in her dead eyes, yet now they are full of something new, pain lingering between the bloodshot they are holding.
