𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐋𝐕

• 45 •

I still don't love you.

It was unnecessary. He might as well should just slice my chest open, snatch my heart, and shoot it into the sky with the colorful rockets. At least that's a creative and fun way to bring further pain to Gia. I stared, dumbfounded. Does he not have a pinch of romance in him? Just for cinema's sake?

And what the fuck were Dominic and Janella thinking? That Keenan would have a change of heart the moment he sees me? Surely that's not the case when he said 'I still don't love you' which, in the midst of celebration, was a loss to me. Keenan doesn't love me and he never will, I got it, I got it. So what the fuck is this?

The man looked left and right before taking a step forward. I backed, bumping into an old lady who I quickly apologized to. I should walk away. I should run. I should save the bits of my pride. If I can't save my heart, I can at least save some dignity. So after one last look at Keenan Travino, I turned and made a sprint for it.

I heard his voice, "Gia, wait." Which was stupid because when someone's running away from you, do you really believe a 'wait' would make them wait? And there I thought Keenan's words were always thought-through.

I slipped between bodies, not looking back, but I knew he was coming after me. Can you believe it? Keenan Travino going after me? I was flattered but not enough to stick around for history to repeat itself.

Being small had its perks. It was easy to go unnoticed but when I'd bump into people again, I got glares but didn't have seconds to spare for apologies. I wanted to be out of the place as soon as possible. I don't give a fuck about NYE anymore, never did since the moment I found out about Ralph. Keenan called out my name again. I ignored him.

If his first line wasn't 'I still don't love you, Gia' then maybe I had stuck around to hear the rest of what he had to say. But Keenan's stupid like that: he's honest in the worst times. I passed by the ice cream stand where I got ice cream. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that we were walking in the same park, Keenan telling me that he'll ask me out after expressing his hate for playgrounds. Now that I think of it, it's also like it was only yesterday when I first arrived at his mansion, him saying that he's naked behind the front door. And here we are now: Tom and Jerry.

I was doing good with running away, probably because I do the same to my responsibilities. Practice makes perfect, after all.

Or so I thought.

"Let go of me," I glared at the hand on my wrist, refusing to meet his eyes because I might not be able to stop myself from slapping him and I fucking hate Amber Heard.

"You're adorable when you're angry."

"Keenan, I'm serious," I tugged to no avail, "Let go."

But stubborn as he is, I should've expected no less. With a hand to my waist, I was pulled to face him. I cringed and at an attempt for another escape, I wiggled and swung my arms in the air, hoping to accidentally-but-not-accidentally swing at his face.

He grabbed both my wrists and locked my hands to my sides. His eyes were wide and alive, face amused. That made one of us. "You violent woman." he commented, reminding me of the first time he said the same thing: all those days ago in his living room. The memory was just as fresh as the others and that made me sad—incredibly sad to the point where I felt my eyes stinging.

He caught onto my expression quickly, his own softening. Am I seeing this right?

Better yet, should I spit on him and make another run for it while he's distracted?