Love By Design

Chapter 50

Keeping my hands busy is the only way I can distract my mind from the torrent of thoughts and fustercluck of feelings I’m currently experiencing, which is how I found myself in the kitchen, preparing something for August to eat.

I’ve opted for the standard Filipino remedy of lugaw (rice porridge) and salabat (ginger tea). Both are a recipe of my grandma’s, ones that she would make for me whenever I got sick when I was younger.

Having just finished cooking the rice porridge, I’m halfway through making the tea for August when my grandma enters the kitchen.

“How is he, hija?”

I look up from peeling the ginger.

“Well rested,” I answer quietly. “He’s currently taking a shower.”

“Poor boy.” She shakes her head, a worried expression on her face. “All that travelling must have exhausted him.”

Grimly, I nod. “He gets sick when he’s out for too long in the cold.”

My grandma glances at my little prep station of ingredients before her eyes trail towards the stove.

“At least you know how to look after him.” She says. “You’re making him lugaw?”

“And salabat,” I nod, feeling my smile falter under the weight of my emotions.

Nervously, I fuss around the kitchen, feeling my grandma’s eyes on me as I finish chopping the ginger into slices and add it to the boiling water.

“You never mentioned a boyfriend,” She ponders out loud.

I rack my brain to think of a plausible enough explanation as to why August would be here without outwardly lying. Deceiving my grandparents, especially my grandma, is impossible so there isn’t even any point in trying. She’s far too perceptive and she’ll just see right through it.

“It’s new.” I blurt out.

My mouth is running before my brain can even catch up and comprehend the statements I’m saying.

“Kind of,” I add, inwardly wincing. “We haven’t put an official label on it or anything.”

I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything else. It wasn’t exactly the most appropriate thing to say but it’s as close to the truth as I can express without having to lie to my grandma, from my perspective of the situation anyway.

Everything is new to me.

From his confessions to my feelings, attempting to make sense of them is unfamiliar territory. In addition to that, whatever situationship August and I had then, there isn’t an official label for it now.

“That’s fine. You both take your time.” She nods. “I’m just glad you finally found someone. Your Papa and I were getting worried about you.”

“There’s no need to worry, Ma.”

“I’m always going to keep worrying, I’m your Mama.” She fixes me a look. “But knowing that you have someone like August makes me a little less so. He was the one that accompanied you on that trip, wasn’t he? And bought you all those sewing supplies?”

I blink.

“You don’t think I pay attention when we talk on the phone?” My grandma shakes her head at me, affectionately.

I look back on all the shared experiences August and I had together. How much I want to keep making new memories with him.

“Does he take good care of you?” She asks me.

The question hangs in the air.

Since meeting August, he’d always had the best intentions for me. Always looking out for me and tending to me, whether I knew it or not. He’s never been outwardly vocal about it, choosing instead to let his actions speak rather than his words. His way of showing he cares is quiet but it’s there.

My heart blooms at the realisation.

I nod. “He does.”

“Good,” My grandma looks at me. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

She gives me a warm smile before patting my cheek.

“I can’t believe it!” My grandma exclaims, teasingly. “Lili’s first boyfriend!”

From the living room, I hear the loud chatter from my cousins.

“They’re together-together?”

“I knew it!”

“See, I told you he was her boyfriend.”

My eyes widen and I can only watch as my grandma playfully winks at me before leaving the kitchen and joining in the conversations with my cousins.

I shake my head at their antics, letting out a long exhale.

Placing the mug of tea and the bowl of rice porridge on the wooden serving tray, I carefully lift it from the counter and exit the kitchen, ignoring the teasing comments and loud giggles from my cousins about me and August.

I’m walking down the corridor when I feel a tiny presence skipping over next to me.

“Hi, Ate Lili!” Dayna beams, big brown eyes twinkling. “Is Kuya Auggie feeling better?”

I shake my head. “Not yet, Dayn.”

“Oh.” She pouts.

“But he will be soon,” I reassure her with a smile. “He just needs plenty of rest and plenty of food.”

I gesture at the tray and she looks up at me expectantly.

“Are you looking after him?”

“Of course.” I nod.

Sensing a silhouette by the stairs, I glance up to find August mid-ascent.

“You should be resting,” I scold him.

“You’ve been gone a while.”

He’s freshly showered and looking more awake but I can tell he’s still feeling lethargic as he steps down to meet me, hand splayed against the wall for support.

“Hi, Kuya Auggie.” Dayna timidly pipes up from behind my legs. “I’m Dayna.”

“Hello,” August smiles, crouching down to her level as he reaches us by the bottom of the stairs. “Little Dayna.”

His attempt to make light conversation with Dayna despite the exhaustion on his face tugs at my heart.

“I’m not little,” She frowns. “I’m five.”

“Ah, of course. I do apologise.” August smiles gently at her before directing his gaze at me. “Do you need help?”

He gestures towards the tray I’m holding and I shake my head.

“I need you in my bed.” I look at him sternly.

He blinks, giving me an impish smile before I realise my words.

“To rest,” I correct myself. “I need you in bed, resting, so you get better.”

I try not to fluster as he slowly stands, looking at me with that softness again.

“Ate Lili is right.” Dayna chimes in, less reluctant around him now. “If you’re sick, you have to sleep and eat a lot. Like my Ate when she got sick last week and all her boyfriends came to the house and looked after her.”

“Boyfriends?” August blinks before turning to me.

Dayna nods enthusiastically, holding up two peace signs with both hands.

“Ate has four,” She giggles.

“She probably means her guy friends,” I whisper to August before turning to Dayna. “Can you help take Kuya August to my room, please? Be careful, don’t rush.”

Dayna nods before she takes August’s hand and bounces up the steps. Following closely behind them, I watch as she talks animatedly about a mythical winter spirit, August joining in and entertaining her the entire walk up the two flights of stairs.

I enter my room to find Dayna fussing over the blanket, as if to put August to bed, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“All done.” Dayna softly pats August’s forehead. “Rest lots, Kuya Auggie.”

“Thank you, little Daynie.”

She gives August a toothless grin before hopping down from the bed and exiting the room with a small giggle.

“Were you also that adorable as a child?”

I shake my head. “I terrorised my grandparents with shears and thread clippers, unfortunately.”

A small chuckle escapes August and my heart flutters at the sound. Putting the tray down on the bed, I reach towards his forehead to place the palm of my hand against it.

“You’re still warm,” I comment, hesitantly. “But you’re not scalding to the touch.”

August watches me, gaze molten silver, and I try not to fluster at the way his eyes glide over my lips as I speak.

“Eat,” I gesture towards the bowl of lugaw and the mug of salabat. “It’s rice porridge and ginger tea.”

He eyes the boiled egg, chopped scallions and toasted garlic on top of the lugaw before digging in and I get up to draw the blinds shut in my room. August is hungrier than I initially thought because he’s halfway through the bowl by the time I walk back to the bed.

“I overheard everyone downstairs.” He clears his throat, taking a sip of the tea.

“Sorry,” I grimace, sitting back down on the bed. “I’ve forgotten how chaotic my cousins can be.”

“First boyfriend?” He asks. “That you’ve brought home to meet the family, right?”

I bite my lip nervously. “More like, ever.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“I mean, you were my first time, so.”

A long, awkward pause settles between us and I shift uncomfortably, suddenly finding the lint on my duvet cover all too interesting.

August blinks at me. “What?”

“It’s never really been a priority.” I shrug. “I don’t, um, date that much. It’s not like I’m not interested, I’ve just never had the time. I’m too focused on other things.”

“Wait, stop.” He shakes his head. “What do you mean I was your first time?”

“Oh,” I fidget slightly before clearing my throat. “In Toussaint.”

Staring at the near-empty bowl of lugaw, I mentally prepare myself to answer the spate of questions he might have. It would be pointless to try and skirt around the issue.

“That was your first time?”

I look up to find August gawking at me, grey eyes wide like saucers.

“Yes.” I nod.

“As in…” August trails off, almost as if he wants to be corrected.

“Losing my virginity?” I try not to fluster. “Yes.”

August blinks.

Once, twice.

His eyes squint, assessing me, before shaking his head.

“No,” He scoffs. “You’re lying.”

I frown, crossing my arms. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

His mouth opens before closing again, gaping like a fish, as he struggles to formulate a response and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look visibly disturbed in the time I’ve known him.

“How?” August stares at me, unblinking.

“How?” I wrinkle my nose, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “How did I remain a virgin for twenty-two years, is that what you’re asking? Umm, I don’t know August, by not having sex?”

I feel a little stupid saying it out loud, August looking more and more uneasy as the realisation sinks in for him.

“But you…” He trails off. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even– There was no–”

He pauses, eyes glazing over as if remembering the events that happened that night.

“There was no indication on your end that it was your first time, Mahalia.”

He narrows his eyes at me.

“You said you were on birth control.”

I can feel the heat crawling up my neck at the suggestion behind his comment.

“I was!” I answer, embarrassed. “I am. For my period. It regulates my menstrual cycle. And it helps with cramps.”

“I was your first time,” August looks genuinely unsettled. “Mahalia, what the hell?”

Inwardly, I wince.

The thought of the experience not being as enjoyable to him as it was for me due to my inexperience didn’t even cross my mind at the time. August has a reputation, for crying out loud. Maybe I should have told him it was my first time after all.

“I understand it might not have been the best experience for you but it’s not as if I didn’t try,” I mutter, defensively. “There’s no need to be insensitive about it.”

It’s not like I was expecting to offer up my virginity to the Peroxide Prince of Paris.

I try not to let my insecurities get the best of me but the thought still stings a little.

“Mahalia— no.” He shakes his head, bewildered. “You were fine. Fuck, you were more than fine.”

August pauses as he stares at me, his eyes glazing over again.

“Hell, you were insatiable.” He comments shamelessly. “You certainly didn’t perform like it was your first time so excuse me for being a little skeptical.”

I flush hotly.

“Was I really your first time?” He queries.

I nod.

“You should have told me,” He visibly winces. “I would have been gentle.”

“You were,” I blush, flashes of the night in Toussaint replaying in my mind.

August fidgets on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

“After like your fourth orgasm,” He retorts disbelievingly.

I blush at the explicit nature of his comment as he brings an arm over his eyes, letting out a low, defeated groan.

“Why are you so upset about my virginity?” I question him.

“I’m not upset!” He replies, a little too quickly.

“Then how come you’re freaking out so much?”

“I’m not freaking out!” He replies, somewhat hysterical.

August lets out a long, resigned sigh as he grabs one of my plushies, looking like he’s having an existential crisis.

“I don’t regret it,” I confess timidly. “If that is what’s troubling you. I know it was my first time but I’m glad it was with you.”

Determined, I peer up at August, hoping to convey the wholehearted nature of my sentiment.

“Mahalia,” He groans. “You really shouldn’t say things like that, while looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I blink, puzzled.

August releases another long exhale before shuffling out of the duvet and rising from the bed.

“Where are you going?” I ask, watching as he grabs a towel from my clothes airer.

“I’m taking another shower,” He mutters. “A cold one this time.”