[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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"Déjala! Qué la dejes, joder, Manuel!"
I shiver on the floor, clenching my fists, wanting to hold onto it as if it was my life, but it can't. No one can at the moment.
I feel someone's presence next to me, someone's frame hovering over my curled body, and I bury my head in my arms, trying to save it from the upcoming punches. I can't keep lying Thalia. She won't believe me that I fell again.
And maybe Boris will be afraid for me, too, and I can't lie to him either. But part of me, that idiotic, or just drunk part, wants me to be beaten so Boris will start caring for me again as he once used to. That maybe the bruises I'll have painted on me soon, will make him forgive me for all the bad words I said to him this morning. Lord knows how sorry I am.
And this, maybe the abnormal part, too - maybe I only have crazy parts of myself - wants to run to Boris's arms to keep me safe, just as his blonde friend told me to do, so he can do whatever it needs to be done.
God, after spending one night in his strong arms, on his warm chest, with his hot breath on my ear, tickling it while whispering comforting words in it, I need more. I know I can't, and I shouldn't, but I want it. I want someone to hold me like that, to keep me safe, someone with whom I can watch movies based on novels, someone to eat pastries with. I need Boris to do all of this with me.
But you can't.
I know, but I can wish if nothing else.
"Qué coño está pasando aquí?", some other male voice growls. "Mencía? Qué estás haciendo aquí en este tiempo?" (What the fuck is going on in here? Mencía? What are you doing here at this time?)
"Boaz..."
The boss. It's the boss.
"Y tú, Manuel! Que coño está...Luna!", he exclaims, and I can sense him squatting down next to me. I fight to open my eyes, but for some reason, I can't.
"What are you doing here at this time?" He finally starts speaking my native language. Also, the only one I understand besides a few profanities in Spanish. And now champán, and what was that word again?
"Boss!"
"Manuel, para! No la toques!", he orders his son whom he took under his wing, and made him worse. (Manuel, stop! Don't touch her!)
I'm not sure how Manuel would turn to be if the boss didn't take him, and opened the door of his world to him. The world of prostitutes, strippers, and just used women who more willingly than unwilling, in desperate need of money, work here where the guns cock every two minutes, where they place the bullet in someone's hand every hour. Maybe he wouldn't be so violent, and possessive, but then maybe he would be worse. We'll never know, I guess.
"I'll touch her whenever I want to touch her! I wanna punch her right now!" I feel his boot on my back, punching it, but before it can give me pain he stops.
