CHAPTER 27
Nostalgia enwraps me as I watch Liam moving away. It's suddenly cold, physically and emotionally cold. I embrace the loneliness, hugging myself tight, homesick, my mind ablaze.
He's mad . . . so mad and hurt.
Sullenly, I make my way back to the girls, and Sam's gaze is what takes my breath away as we bump into each other. She's on her way towards the bar, where Jamal and Natasha are having a lovebird moment. She looks dubiously at me, her face crunched.
"Hey, where were you?" she asks, and seems a bit tipsy that she nearly stumbles on the barstool.
"The restroom," I answer.
She doesn't buy my answer at all.
"I'm just coming from the restroom myself, you weren't there," Sam says.
Should I just blow everything away?
Staring intently at Sam, my heart beating so fast, I find myself uttering, "I was in the restroom first, and then I was with—“
"We were together. We went to get some air," someone interrupts.
I turn my eyes and Malik's hand slips around my shoulder casually. I gulp the lump in my throat.
"Oh, you should've just told me, Kiki." Sam grins, nudging me on the rib.
No, I should've just said it. I was with Liam, and I'm crazy in love with him. My head gets tenanted by so many thoughts and regrets.
"Do thank me later, Professor," Malik whispers in my ear, and I'm not sure if I should be grateful.
“I want to sit down,” I breathe, my composure hardly sublimed.
Malik gives me an apprehensive look, his face worried. "Kira, are you okay?" he asks gently.
"No, Malik.” I feel the pain in my chest, tears pooling in my eyes. "I'm not okay. This is not okay." I’m hovering.
Malik scoots me immediately towards an empty booth. "Hey." He sits next to me. "What happened? Did you fight with Liam?"
"I don't know." I press lips together, trying hard to stay composed. Malik scowls as I look up at him. "He's mad at me, he's tired, and he has every reason to be. And Sam . . . She doesn't even suspect what's going on. How can't she see it, huh? Why do I wish that she sees it? I want her to see it, Malik. You were able to find out, so why can't she find out? I won't be able to say it. I can't." Panic overwhelms me.
"Relax," Malik says softly, tugging my head towards his shoulder. I fully comply. "Forget about it for now, okay?" He pats my back.
"Mmm." I sniff, wiping the tears with the back of my hand.
"Forget everything, empty your mind, just listen to that music." Malik’s voice is suddenly teasing.
I laugh. "I wish it was that easy."
"I know, right?" He laughs along. "Giving advice is so easy," he says, and I slowly begin to feel better as we keep talking. "It will be fine, Professor. It has to be."
I just give him a grateful smile, and somewhere deep inside my heart, I know all this has got to stop. I can't go on lying like this every time I get a chance to. I've got to make up my mind. It's either I'm in or out.
It’s already past midnight as I pull the SUV in the parking lot. At least I was in a condition to drive. I can't believe the look of Sam lying into oblivion right on the passenger seat, totally drunk. I don't want to know how she was able to walk outside the club.
Sighing, I throw a glance at the two men in the backseat. Malik is at least in half of his faculty, and as for Liam, he's sleeping apparently. I smile bittersweetly. After our little moment in the dark, Liam made himself drunk as though getting back at me.
"Oh, we're back?" Malik utters once he's finally remembered the color of his house building.
"Yeah, and I'm not sure how we're going to take them out." I yawning, my eyes glued to the Englishman beside the handsome Arab.
"Oh, he's waking up." Malik grins, seeing Liam's eyes moving slightly. "Hey, bro, can you get up?"
"Of course I can," Liam grunts, squinting his eyes at the golden-yellow light beaming inside the car.
Yeah, sure, what a Superman you are!
"Sam, we're back." I try to wake my fake blonde, whose hair is collected to the side, half-hiding her tilted face.
"Hmm," she murmurs, and I sigh heavily. "Just one more round, please."
Oh God! This is going to take forever, I swear. When Sam gets wasted it's always a natural disaster, almost impossible to deal with it unless she gets sober.
"Get up," I snap, for the soft approach has never worked with her. "I'm counting to three; you know what happens after that." My voice is warning.
"Not the cold water, Kiki," Sam laments, making Malik laughs loudly.
Liam scrambles out of car without a word, his back sullen as my eyes stalk his sight. He’s still mad, my subconscious mumbles sadly.
In what seems like the monument of time, Sam manages to get out of the car, with the help of Malik. Although she can't walk properly, her mouth is still as active as though she's sober. She's now singing Macarena.
"Okay, Sam, no more singing for God's sake," Malik scolds, scooting her inside.
"Come on, Malik, I've got a nice vocal so let me sing," she shouts ceremoniously.
A heavy breath leaves my lungs as I lock the car. "Well, Kira, the night is over," I utter, watching the shimmering night sky that always calms my nerves.
Liam's love confession hits the back of my mind, gushing my being with this overwhelming wave of mixed emotions. Closing my eyes, I end up smiling at the sound of his words replaying in my head.
I force my way inside the house and it's already silent enough. To my surprise, however, Liam is on the couch, gulping a bottle of water, and my brake is guaranteed. He stares at me, but says no word, again.
What was I expecting?
That he'd be smiling at me as if I'm the last cookie in the jar? Evidently he's getting tired of this stupid affair we're having like high school kids banned from dating before eighteen.
"Goodnight," I utter, forcing my reluctant legs to move. Can't he let me sleep with him? What the hell, girl! My subconscious scowls at my insanity.
"I'm not sure what's so good about it, but I'll pretend it is," Liam replies coolly while reclining back on the couch. What? My eyes broaden. “Go ahead, Ms. Jones. You must be having so much fun knowing this lad here . . . me . . . . is witlessly into you! Yeah, great! Good for you!” He sounds drunk, accusing, and I’m so dumbstruck.
"Okay, that's it!" I take a seat next to him. "Are you angry at me because I refused to elope with you to England?" My voice comes a bit harsher.
Liam bursts out laughing. "You think I'm such a baby, don't you, Kira?" He moves closer, filling the distance between us. My pulse accelerates at the hot look he gives me, biting his bottom lip. "I said I love you, and you didn't say a thing. Yes, it makes me mad. Don't you love me, Ms. Jones? Am I not your type?" he demands in a low, husky voice.
Of course you're my type, dummy. I try my best not to laugh.
"So, you're mad because of that?" I ask, and he draws back, sighing. "I'm sorry," I say softly, leaning my side against the cushion, our faces near. Liam’s eyes bore into mine, and I feel like he wants to touch me . . . my face . . . as his hand rises subtly.
I watch it with anticipation, my breath ragged, but Liam chooses against it as he drops his precious hand on his knee. He looks confused, and I know I’m the reason why. Oh no!
"You're so heartless.” He shuts his eyes, and I can feel the sadness in him.
"I'm not heartless." I move closer, and he flies his eyes open with difficulty. "I just—“ And my mouth gets shut by his lips taking mine briskly, surprising me.
“Don’t talk,” he commands, placing my body secured in his arms. I say no syllable; I place my hands on his shoulders as he assaults my lips gently, making me feel his every move as our tongues swirl together in synch.
Holy Mother, will I get tired of it? The taste of scotch is such a turn on.
We kiss like there's no tomorrow, oblivious of anything and anyone. I can only feel the warmth of his body right now, as he presses me closely to his side, and the sweetness of his tongue that dominates mine wildly.
"You love my kisses but you don't love me," Liam whispers, giving me a punishment-like break.
I hate when he does this, and yet it makes me want him more.
"You love me but you refuse to fuck me," I reply huskily, and he bursts into a fit of giggles.
Oh God, what have I said? My sex goddess creases a proud, amused eyebrow.
"What did you say, Kira?" Liam asks, and I shut my eyes from embarrassment, my head on his chest. Damn! "Do you want it that bad, baby?" His voice is sexy, a pure torture.
"I do.” I give him a coy look, blushing, my sex goddess sitting regal on her throne.
"I see." Liam nears his drowsy blue eyes closer to my face, a beguiling smile on his sexy lips. My whole body is on fire, and yes I want to cross the for red line. "You want to come to my room?" he keeps teasing me, nuzzling his thumb against my lips, tantalizing me softly.
Jesus!
"Will you let me?" I utter, feeling so high and needy.
"You know my answer, Kira," Liam whispers, the scotch in his breath turning me wild, heightening my insatiable desires. "But must we really do it like this? As if we're having an affair?" he adds.
No, God! Why is he always right? We really need to put an end to this sleazy relationship . . . or whatever the same is.
Gulping, I say, "Well, not really, I just—“
"Ugh, drunk women are weird and scary." Malik interrupts us, making me pull back immediately. After a short silence, I hear, "Okay, my life's a mess! Do I have to witness this as well?"
Damn this Arab! Can't he come back later?
"You startled me," I say, and he laughs loudly as though he's caught a big fish in a backyard pond.
"So, should I let you two continue kissing or should I take that drunkard to his room?" he asks, referring at Liam.
Maybe . . . the former?
"Take him; I think he's passing out." I watch the drunk cowboy who was all active a second ago.
"No, he's got some weird drinking habit. He can hear everything right now," Malik says.
"Really?" I ask.
"Go to bed, Ms. Jones, I love you," Liam says, and I bite my lip.
I love you, too, Mr. Darcy.
"Hmm, you've got some real deal, Professor. Do tell me everything later, okay?" Malik gives me a playful look.
"Shut up." I quickly run towards my room, grinning like a fool.
***
I wake up feeling energetic that I anticipated. I take a very long and relaxing shower. The same yellow sundress I wore when we first arrived at the ranch is what I put on afterwards. The memory is somewhat comic as I think of the first impressions. A smile crosses my face.
A little more determined to look great, I apply some makeup and style my hair into two side braids like a happy teenager. I’m satisfied with my look, my self-confidence at its peak for several reasons. I head straight to the kitchen.
"Let's see.” I rummage through the fridge, questing for what to make for breakfast.
Listening to Stay by Rihhana through my mobile, I feel like I'm back to my little apartment in L.A.
"Hi, Kira," Natasha greets a moment later, holding her head.
I wonder when she and Jamal came back last night.
"Hi, feeling bad?" I ask.
"Worse. It's like there's a drummer residing in my head. How come you're so early and looking utterly good already?"
"Well, I didn't drink like a fish last night, remember?" I tease.
"You're playing smart, huh?"
"Could be," I tell her, "but no, I'm not quite a drinker."
"I see, and it smells delicious here.” She ruffles her hair while taking a seat.
While having few stories with Natasha, I quickly finish the breakfast ordeal. The rest of the gang gather in the breakfast table, surprised to see whatever I've made.
"You're the best, Kiki," Sam says her usual catchphrase. "I love you."
Malik adds, "Yes, professor, do you mind if I keep you for my kitchen? I promise I'll pay you well."
"No, thank you."
"I'll double whatever you're earning now." He looks expectantly at me. "No, triple? Or better yet, just name your price." He grins boyishly, and I roll my eyes.
"Just shut up, and eat your soup," I hiss at him, and everyone laugh.
Well, everyone except my cowboy who has this tedious look as if embarrassed of something.
Is he having regrets?
"Professor, do you think you could help my brother cure his hangover?" Malik asks me pointedly, with a little grin that emphasizes what a tease he is.
"Um, are you okay?" I ask Liam, and perhaps my voice sounds weird as I find myself too concerned.
"Yes, don't worry." Liam smiles.
"Don't you have something strong to recommend for some chronic hangover or something?" Malik keeps making fun of me.
"Chronic hangover?" Natasha laughs heartily, followed by the rest of the others.
"Do you need some medicine?" I ask Liam, my worry evident.
Sam stares at him as well, expectant of what he's going to say.
Don't say anything stupid, Liam Darcy, or else I'll kill you.
"No, this coffee is fine," he replies, and Malik fakes a sudden cough that I fathom right away. I kick his foot under the table, and he laughs a bit.
"I'm sorry; I just read some funny news online." Malik makes his sleazy defense, thanks to the tablet he's holding.
"I do have some Advil, in case it gets severe," Sam says.
"Thank you, Samantha," Liam answers with a tight smile, and I resume my attention back to the breakfast. "And thank you, Ms. Jones, this will surely help." He lifts his coffee mug, his eyes gleaming playfully.
You're welcome, handsome, and I love you. "Okay." I smile curtly.
Later around noon Natasha bids us goodbye, promising to drop by soon so that we can go sightseeing more of Miami. I second the idea right away, for that's exactly my scene.
Nothing else goes on, other than a few stories while Natasha waits for Jamal to give her a ride. We mainly talk about last night.
"Guys, someone recorded a clip of us dancing last night, and it went viral!" Sam screams delightedly, and immediately shows us the video.
It has indeed gone viral.
How could I let myself be this stupid, my God? Now everyone I know will see what a crazy person I am. I hope not, because this is Florida and not California . . . right?
"Oh my, have you seen that part?" Natasha laughs her heart out.
"I know, right? Look at this," Sam says excitedly, and their eyes glue on the screen. "Kiki, come and see this!" she urges, and I follow with a sigh.
That's not all, apparently, for there's another article online about Malik and Liam, that the Boss and the Brain have been spotted at the Treehouse, Miami.
But I'm glad it doesn't connect us with the two; seems like the paparazzi wasn't so good at his job after all.
I gradually take a seat at the sunbeds by the poolside. The Florida sun is shining mildly today as I lie down comfortably with my eyes closed.
This is what I call tranquility.
But well, perhaps it's too soon to speak as we're suddenly startled by the arrival of this wild brunette who lunges in like a fighting bull. In a quick glance, I apprehend her exotic beauty and frenzy mannerisms. She's on a phone call, and I think I know with whom.
Malik emerges from inside while muttering, "No, I can't believe this."
"Oh, you better do. Seriously, Malik? Do I have to read the gossips to realize that you're actually in Miami?" She's now smoking mad, clutching her sculptured waist.
"Don't make a scene here," Malik urges in a whisper, holding her arm. "Please, let's get out of here and talk."
Interesting.
"Fine, my car is outside. Let's go!" She orders.
Malik sighs heavily before giving us an apologetic look. He buttons up his shirt, and follows the lady who looks kind of Latino, judging from her accent, long dark hair, and the tone of her olive skin.
But who is she? My subconscious gets suddenly busy, hungry for some information.