"It's you and me. Together," he says. "Us against the world."
*****
All my life, I've never trusted men. The image of them planted in my head is the figure of my abusive stepfather who has made my mother and I live in hell.
But then, an encounter w...
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Six months have passed since that big football match, and a lot of things have happened in my school. The final exams. The results. And tonight, the prom.
As for me and Jake, nothing happens between us since then. There's nothing more than me admitting to myself that I have feelings for him.
He's the first guy who makes me think differently of men, and until now, I still can't understand this feeling either, whether it's just adoration or goes beyond that.
Tonight's prom should be something I wouldn't want to miss, but strangely, I have no interest to attend it. I don't have any close friends who would push me to go with them either -- I've spent too much time working my part-time job that I barely have time to hang out and make friends.
I don't have any interest to find out who will become the prom King and Queen either -- I already know who would be.
Right now, I'm spending time in front of my laptop in my room, going through some college application processes.
A sigh of desperation leaves my lips. Even though my academic scores are quite satisfying -- I'm really proud of that -- I still doubt that I'll be able to enter college.
My records are definitely above average, but it isn't outstanding enough to get a full scholarship.
I still can get some loans, but I can't pay the rest of the tuition fees and the entrance fee. How would I have gotten that much money?
The music from my favorite Boyce Avenue's song relaxes me a bit as I keep browsing some contents on the web. I'm too caught up with it that I don't realize what's actually happening in my house.
It's when the sound of something break on the floor reaches my ear that I startle.
"Lais!" Tuck's voice booms, and I abruptly take off my earphones.
Wondering what's wrong, I rush outside my room, only to find Tuck settling in the dining table, a beer in his hand, other bottles scattered on the table and on the floor -- one of them is shattered into pieces.
I'm clueless about drinks, but anybody can tell that they're all alcohols.
How much has he been drinking? The smell of the alcohol attacks my nostrils, making me nauseated.
"What the hell have you been doing? Did you not hear me calling you?" he barks, and I can see that he's nowhere near sober.
So I'm still keeping a distance from him.
"You have a job tonight," he states, making my eyebrows rise.
"No, I don't," I say. There's no shift for me at the bookstore tonight.
"For me, you stupid brat," he bites out, making me wince from the harsh words.
To my surprise, he stands up and approaches me, more like trudging and swaying because he's drunk. And I automatically retreat, my back pushed against the wall behind me.
