15. Chapter Fifteen
The cool evening air brushes against my skin as we walk up to my house, the soft glow of the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement.
The movie was terrific—a blend of laughter and light moments that made the rest of the world seem distant and faint.
But as the night draws to a close, the reality that our time together for the day is ending nudges at me, bittersweet and gentle.
We reach my door, and there’s a moment of hesitation.
Damien turns to face me, his eyes reflecting the streetlight, shining with a mixture of something like hope and hesitation.
“Tonight was great,” he says, his voice low.
“It was,” I agree, finding myself caught in his gaze.
The air between us charged with something new, something neither of us had planned for when he concocted our little scheme of pretend engagement, which I have gone along with.
There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then Damien steps closer.
His hand finds mine, warm and reassuring.
“I... uh, I enjoy spending time with you, Lea. More than I thought I would,” he admits, and an honesty there makes my heart skip a beat.
“I do, too,” I confess, my words barely a whisper.
It’s then that he leans in, his movement tentative but filled with purpose.
When his lips meet mine, it’s a soft collision, gentle and questioning at first, as if he’s still asking for my permission.
But as I respond, the kiss deepens and grows more confident. It’s a kiss that speaks of burgeoning feelings, of the blurred lines between make-believe and reality, whispering promises we haven’t yet dared to voice aloud.
When we finally pull apart, we are both breathless.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Damien promises, his voice steady, but his eyes reveal something else.
“Yeah, see you in the morning,” I echo, my voice steady but my heart racing with anticipation and something else—something warm and terrifyingly wonderful beginning to bloom.
We bid each other good night, and as he walked away, I pressed my back against the wooden door, relishing the cool touch that ground me.
I bring my fingertips to my lips, still tingling from the soft brush of his kiss, and I smile.
The air becomes charged at this moment, resulting in a tangible shift in the atmosphere.
What started as a mere facade transforms into something genuine, something I can almost taste and touch.
As I turn the key and step into the quietness of my living room, I carry with me the promise of tomorrow, the memory of his kiss, and the thrilling uncertainty of what lies ahead.
The story we wrote together takes a new turn tonight, and I find myself eager to see where it leads.
The joy on his parent’s faces haunts me.
The flickering city lights outside my window fuel my wandering thoughts as I go through my nightly routine.
The bustling streets of Los Angeles remind me that my time here may not be everlasting. Thoughts of returning to San Antonio linger in my mind, threatening to disrupt our yet-to-be-established relationship.
How do we bridge the gap between us and find solace in the distance?
What becomes of our friendship when distance forces us apart?
Also, I can already picture the scene vividly in my mind: the sight of disappointment etched on his parent’s faces as they discover the web of lies we’ve spun, the sound of their voices trembling with a mix of betrayal and disappointment.
The air in the room would be thick with tension, carrying the scent of unease and regret.
We would struggle to find words, desperately seeking an excuse to protect ourselves from the truth we had been too scared to disclose.
The weight of the situation would settle heavily upon us, making the once comfortable space between us now suffocatingly awkward - a consequence I had never fully expected.
The effect of the engagement rumor was still hanging over our heads, and with these feelings, we confessed to each other.
Things would not get any better.
Taking measures to limit interaction with him at work and home as much as possible would have to be the best choice.
That way, we can prevent finding ourselves in situations where we experience discomfort, and others might become aware.
Commuting together to work each day would no longer be a favorable idea.
I would wake up much earlier to prepare and leave before him. If I get to the office first, I’ll ensure all the documents are ready for him.
No more ‘date nights,’ if I can call them that!
Was it possible that the proximity we recently shared intensified these feelings? What would happen when I move back to San Antonio?
After all, my move to Los Angeles was only temporary.
Nothing in life was certain except for the certainty of uncertainty.
Currently, the plan was to stay in LA temporarily until the court proceedings concluded.
I plan to go back once I am in a better state of mind and more receptive to enduring the reminders of my parents that encompassed our home and neighborhood in San Antonio.
Choosing to allow the thoughts of tomorrow to resolve themselves, I retire for the night with my hands intertwined with his, in my thoughts and my dreams.
The following day, my alarm blares sharply at precisely 5:00 am. I raced out of bed and set a target to be out of the house before 6:30 am.
I complete my morning routine of journaling and planning my day over a cup of coffee in the space of forty-five minutes.
After my shower, I prepare a bowl of cereal for breakfast with extra milk, just the way my mom used to make it for me when I was younger.
I prepare a selection of fruit to enjoy as a snack while working during the day. I pair my cream shirt, designed with floral petals, with a navy blue asymmetrical skirt with nude heels.I have my hair in a high bun today, and I accessorize it with pearl-covered hair pins and a hairband.
Right on time, at 6:15 am, I peep out of my door and notice that the only light turned on at Damien’s house is the one in his bedroom.
That means he was probably just waking up.
This was a good sign.
Instead of dwelling on the thoughts of what he was engaged in, I opened my car manually using the car key instead of the control button, which would have made a loud sound that would alert him.
I drive out gently as if my tires could tip-toe and be silent.
The office parking lot is almost devoid of cars safe for three vehicles I observed at the far end of the car park. One of which is the company truck used for supplies and other errands.
I head over to the sixth floor, where my office is located and the only evidence of human existence on that floor is the janitor.
This was a direct contrast to how busy this floor would be in a few minutes when people came in.
The events of yesterday replay in my head as I prepare documents for his use.
Today’s goal was minimal interaction with him, and I was determined to achieve it.
Why begin a journey now that the end thereof could be disastrous for both parties?
I do not think I can survive a breakup when it eventually happens.
Our friendship was more important than whatever our relationship could metamorphose into.
Spending my morning typing away on my desktop consumes most of my time. After responding and sending emails, I finally finished updating his schedule.
I can now attend to tasks that don’t require his involvement.
I see him walk into his office a few minutes before nine, but he doesn’t move without observing me intently.
I sense his stare, but I refuse to raise my head and acknowledge him.
I carry on with my day and recognize the sense of loneliness that comes from not conversing with Damien, and Samantha’s absence is deeply felt.
I still miss her, and my mind wonders how she’s fairing.
I picked up my phone to dial her number immediately and find out how she and her baby were doing.
“Lea! How are you doing?” Her voice sounds tiny yet firm.
“Hi, Sam. I’m doing great. Congratulations! How are you doing?”
“I’m doing great! Having my son cradled in my arms brings me joy.”
“Right,” I laugh. “For the record, you looked fabulous with the bump, anyway.”
“Damn right, I did. How’s work going with your lover and CEO?”
It was impossible to tell her about my recent resolve, as that would also require me to explain that we were never engaged from the onset.
“Everything is all good. We’re doing great as well.”
I hear the baby crying and squealing for attention.
“Seth eats like he has four tanks in his tummy. I feed him almost three times every two hours!” She exclaimed in exhaustion, but her tone expressed so much love.
“I’ll call back later, Sam. I wouldn’t want the baby not to feed to his satisfaction.”
“Okay, Lea.”
“Say bye to Ms. Lea,” she said to Seth, who yelled louder for his meal.
“Bye, Seth. See you soon!”
Babies were blissful.
Their worries about life are minimal, centered on hunger, thirst, and attention.
What type of world would it be if we all remained babies? The question is, who will give birth and nurture the babies?
I laugh at my silly baby jokes and realize that lunchtime has elapsed.
The cafeteria would be empty now, so I could grab something to eat.
I am startled as my feet come to a halt while observing Damien pacing around the quiet cafeteria, except for the noise emanating from the refrigerator.
“Damien,” I call out to him.
He looks up and fixes his eyes on me with shock, but his pupils dilate quickly like he has been waiting for something and has finally gotten it.
“I was wondering when you were going to come down for lunch. You seemed engrossed with work, so I didn’t want to disturb you. I hoped you would come soon, or I would have come to get you.”
He got the memo.
Awkward situations like these were what I was avoiding all day.
“I have a lot on my mind…”
“A lot from last night?”
It was bad enough that he knew me so well he could also read my thoughts. Impressive.
“Beyond last night. I just sense exhaustion, and I have a heavy workload on my desk.”
His stare showed I was lying, and he knew it.
“That’s fine. I understand. Allocating a break to relax in the evening could be considered. Go out or stay in? Whichever you please.”
“Till evening.”
I walk past him with my right palm on my head to feign that I have a headache. It wasn’t my head that hurt, but my heart.
I decided to go back to the office and get no lunch. No food will pass through with him in this room, gazing upon me like he could read letters on my body.
The refrigerator has several layers of drinks, juices, and water.
A bottle of juice and water should quench my thirst that wasn’t for any of these liquids, but for him.
.