“Taking it slow?” Marlon scrunches his nose, as if he caught something sour, “I’m hoping lover boy hurries the hell up though. It shouldn’t take too long for a guy to realise he wants to keep chatting with the cute girl he met in the bookstore.”
I perk a brow.
“Did you just say I’m cute?” I tease, to which Marlon blows a raspberry through his lips.
“In your dreams, Garcia.”
“Whatever. I’m happy with how we are right now, thank you very much. It’s all going to plan.”
Yet, as the words leave my mouth, I question whether I’m truly confident in them. Was Marlon right? Should Rafayel be asking for my number right about now? We’d only seen each other a handful of times now.
Was that acceptable enough to then ask for contact? I swallow my thoughts, and focus on the screen.
“Anyways, are we going to watch this episode or not?”
That night, as I close my eyes and drift off, I think of Rafayel’s eyes. I reminisce on his earthy scent, the constellations on his cheeks, the sun in his eyes.
I lose myself in deluded situations of what his hand would feel like in mine. I lull myself to sleep with these romantic scenarios, feeling giddy at the thought that maybe one day, it could all come true.
Yet, just before I dip into unconsciousness, green eyes seem to shift into brown, and it’s the last thing I see before the tiredness consumes me and I’m lost in nothing but dreams.
Sixteen
“We’re having dinner at the Salvadors tonight!”
I choke on my saliva. Or is it the banana bread I’m eating for breakfast? I’m not too sure.
“Tonight? At the Salvadors?” I question.
I’m still blinking the sleep from my eyes. Marlon and I stayed up pretty late last night, bingeing through almost six episodes before he declared defeat from exhaustion, and I’d tried to ignore my disappointment when he said that.
Mum walks into the kitchen, her footsteps hurrying against the timber flooring. She’s late for work again, having spent the last twenty minutes on a phone call with Tita Regina. She doesn’t seem to be all too bothered though, telling from the grin on her face.
“Yep, that’s what I said.”
She pops a piece of banana bread into her mouth, before sauntering over and placing a kiss atop my forehead. A bread crumb falls down the bridge of my nose.
“What time?” I call out as Mum heads toward the door.
“7pm! Plenty of time to freshen up when you get home,” she responds.
I get a text from Marlon on cue.
We arrive at the Salvadors just a little past 7pm. For some reason, my parents thought it would be the best idea ever to walk to their house, instead of driving there, like any normal person would do.
“The evening air is nice,” Dad insists, “And it’s still a little light out. Come on, it’ll be nice.”
The so-called ‘nice evening air’ Dad spoke of seemed to prove him very wrong. A slight chill hung in the air, hinting at the foreboding cold that was in-store for us this autumn. The wind tangled itself in my hair, and by the time we arrive at the Salvadors from our twenty minute brisk walk, I’m looking like Sadako fromThe Ring.
Tita Regina opens the door, greeting us with her usual, cheerful smile.
“Welcome, welcome!” she exclaims, pulling my Mum first into an embrace, then my Dad, then Ria and I.
She lingers on me a little longer.
“My dear Jaslene,” she coos, before meeting my eyes, seemingly unfazed by my horrific appearance. There’s a twinkle, the same twinkle that I saw in my Mum’s eyes, when she first suspected that there was something between Marlon and I.
I return the sentiment, greeting her warmly with what I hope is matched enthusiasm. We take our shoes off at the front door,as always, before stepping through the threshold. Instantly, I’m embraced with a house I’m all too familiar with. Yellow walls coat the entrance hallway, with hung photos of the Salvador family. Marlon is an only child, so there are many baby pictures of him. As we continue forward down the hall, his photos age with us.
