30

It's almost like my lips were cracking. Slouching on one of the patio chairs, I thought about how insanely hot this Saturday is.

I had handled it well, I suppose. I had talked to Ian, and had totally given him an A-Z definition of everything that has happened. He looked hesitant at first, but then he caressed me, and he said, 'I get it.'

I'll play the scene again:

Walking down the corridor on Thursday after three days of containing all my confusions and queries, I decided to tell it like it is. I knew Ian would be sitting behind a pillar, looking at no one, wasting his time. His face would be like stone, but a softness in it. He needed love, compassion, but he's covering it by wearing a mask.

He would look so intimidating, and of course, there would be anger welling up within him. Whether to beat me up and leave me to die, or do something to hurt himself. Honestly, I didn't exactly blame him. He had too much, and I was the source.

Since when did my life turn into this nightmare that is just ENDLESS? He had enough, and I had to stop it from flowing. From just glancing up at him, to freaking out. To stop hurting him. There weren't any fault in liking someone. But if you turned it the other way round, it's not entirely my fault. He had a BET on me. Which makes me wonder, who won the bet? Ian? And what happened to Lynette? Had she ceased to exist already?

But as I rounded the corner, he had laid his head in his hands. He was remorseful, it was beyond obvious. I had to forgive him. He's sorry, he really is. Quietly, I sat beside him under the scorching sun.

"Hey." Surprisingly, my voice didn't betray me, instead, it was even and soft. It was almost like it was made of iron. I smiled a little, trying to comfort him. He didn't had tears in his eyes, which both comforted me and also disappointed me. He didn't cry for me.

He didn't smile back, but he did nod. "I'm sorry." he said once again. I nodded now, understanding that it was the truth.

"I know. Look, Ian, you're wasting your time."

"What's it to you?"

I held his clenched hands in mine, releasing one finger from one finger. He seemed relaxed immediately, and I chuckled a bit. "Ian, if we don't turn out like how you want us to be - " I stopped, what did he want us to be, anyway? "it doesn't mean that I don't like you. And I'm really sorry for what happened on Monday, I just...it just popped in my head and the next thing I know, I just burst." Notice that I did not use 'love', instead, 'like'. I smiled a smug smile, and he looked confused.

"I mean," I started again, trying as hard to tighten a screw in his head, "we don't have to be lovers to like each other. I like you, I do. But in another way, and I think that's alright. You like me, and I'm alright with that too. "

He seemed a little shock when I finished the last sentence. Oh no! Was it that I had misunderstood anything? Maybe he didn't even LIKE me. Ohhh shucks! And he laughed, sounding flabagasted. I blushed.

"You don't like me, do you?" I asked.

And he shut up. "No. How could you ask that? Look, even before the bet was on, I knew you were gonna special. Like... I never imagine anyone could transfer from a better school to this...hut. And well, besides what everyone predicts: that you didn't do well in your academics, I knew it wasn't true."

I wanted to explain that the transfering school team was not a heroic act. But he cut me off.

"And I am sorry for the Lynette situation, I mean, I had to. She had been my girlfriend, but I wanted to get to know you better. And eventually, I did." He smiled a little, trailing off.

"Wait, she had BEEN your girlfriend?" I asked, my voice taking another excitement.

"Yes, as in we're over now."

"Why?"

"No, it's not because of you. Well, partly, it is. But I just couldn't stand her anymore."

I aaaahed.

"So well, I know it was cruel. But I just had to, Lynette had been a lot to me. And I didn't want to risk that relationship. Seriously, she's a nice person if you get to know her. And she's very loyal." He smiled again, seeming to remember the old days - not to old ago.

"Well, I do like you. But I didn't know you'd be okay with it." Which answers my first question before. I was glad, and I smiled at him. A grateful smile that I hope it would reveal.

"Thanks. And don't worry, I won't bother you. If it's meant to be, it'll find a way. Right?" He asked, sounding hopeful, his eyebrows popping up, his mouth pulled into a wide grin.

It's not because he was expecting me to say yes to that, but because it was right. And I agreed.

"Affirmative."

I started standing up, and he did too. And I said one last time, "Sorry." with a sorrowful look. He caressed my face for one short time, maybe because he knew I didn't exactly like it. "I get it." He said, smiled, and walked off, a tear strolling down his face.

*

My story's over, and finally, finally Ian got it.

Although I said it was okay that liked me, and that I'd make no effort to go against it, I still had the slightest hope that he would take Lynette back, noticing that I wasn't worth it, or stop waiting.

He would, I assured myself.

Because boys, will be boys. And we all know it. We all believe it, and yet we all fall into it once in a while, blinded by all those pretense and all those attention that one person doesn't necessarily need. There's not closure yet, so don't you dare think I've stopped here. It's still going on. What with Cece and the mysterious tickets. What with, Dame? With Mack, if there IS anything with Mack.

What with, my final realization about the fact Mary and Adam were together, eating nachos at this moment, somewhere out there. What with my family giving me not enough attention?

I made a move, and I called Cece up. She answered it right away as if she was expecting me.

"Hey psychic." I greeted.

"Come to my house,pronto."

And I fled, grabbing everything I needed. When I reached, before even having a chance to knock, Cece opened the door and yanked me in.
"Careful with my flesh please, woman."

"Sorry." She fluffed the sofa for me to sit on, and pushed my shoulders down and I sat, feeling very posh and princess-like. "You may bow down if you wish." I joked, daring her attempt.

She shook her head. I stared at her, "Naw it's okay, it was a joke."

"Do you tie ponytails properly?" she asked, ignoring my sentence. She shoved me to stand again, and turned me around to observe my hair. "Apparently, no."

I gave her a long face, "What? I need not tutorial on my hair." I defended, giving her the look. Because I know what she's up to, she's going to makeover me. And oh no, here it comes again.

*

Ohmigosh.

I stared at myself, really stared at myself, in the mirror. My hair was flawlessly neat, my tendrils falling lightly on my shoulder, and she helped me dye a streak of my hair to brown, saying it fitted me, since I was so Asian-haired. I laughed at that, but I never knew it could give me this effect. Never knew, or imagined, I could look, proposterously amazing.

"Wow." I whispered.

She had even plucked my eyebrows, curled my lashes, had shaved my little lady moustache, and had made my lips shine like crazy with a gallon of lip gloss. I turned around in my new outfit she had chosen for me, a tank top - so totally normal yet so totally glam-, and a pair of jeans with an awesome belt, that she said she had bought from Japan.

The top had a little crown and a big number behind. And it was purple. I wore a tube inside,too, because it was low-cut. But she said I needn't, but I did anyway.

"Yes, I know." Cece said, twirling me around on one of those things you stand on. "I am good."

"Yes you are, and it might seem a little off, but I enjoyed it. Especially when you plucked my eyebrows." I giggled.

She gave me a disgusted look. "That is a little off."

And then I stopped, "Why?"
"We're going out to dinner tonight."

"For?"

"Tomorrow."

She knew what was gonna happen tomorrow? Another person' birthday? Dame? No, we celebrated it. Cece? Not in a few months time. So, what?

"I'll explain tomorrow, alrighty?" she asked, pulling me again. And she grabbed my bag along with hers, filled with all the cosmetics no one ever needed, and rushed out of the house into the sun again.

"Mummy, we're picking up Dame now! Hurry!"

Awesome, at least we didn't have to burn while walking to Dame's. It took approximately eternal miles. I smiled at Cece, knowing that she understood. She mopped the sweat forming on her forehead and cussed under her breath, "Make-up's ruined."

I hit her on the arm. "It's not worth to cuss over that." She rolled her eyes, "Mum."

We got into the car after a few minutes as her mum climbed into the car with her sweatpants and shirt drenched with sweat in. I cringed as the scent floated into my nostrils,and I unwillingly coughed, causing her to feel awkward.

"Sorry, I'm sick." I lied, anything but her to tense. And it worked, she released a little, and smiled. I grab my cell phone and texted Cece, sitting beside me.

Your momma reeks.

She texted back within 2 seconds.

Tell me about it. It's caused my dad nose cancer.

I laughed at that, inserting "NOSE CANCER!" in between. Cece hurriedly covered my mouth as her mum turned around to face us. "Nose cancer?"she asked.

We shook our heads in unison.

"Her dad." Cece pointed to me, and I burst out laughing behind her palm.

Despite that I couldn't manage how crazy everything is - Mary and Oscar and all-, Cece, as crazy as she is, I could manage. It was ironic in a way.

I hugged her in a New York minute, and she hugged me back, too. Evidently, she had no idea what was going on in my head this instant.