Chapter 2
I swat his hand away.
My skin is ice cold against his.
Did he notice?
I continue with a raised brow.
"Who would have thought that the snotty boy who used to cry over a neighbor's cat have all manned up this fast?"
He scowls, and it was all I needed to compose myself.
I step away from him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.
His touch is a painful reminder of things that would never be mine.
I have to distance myself.
I can do this,I mentally cheer.
"I was seven!" he dramatically frowns, a hand on his heart.
"I loved Niko, and he's your cat, and we were both crying!"
"Whatever." I pull out my hanky and dry the rest of my face.
The white cloth is stained black; my mascara must be running.
He grins at me.
"You look like a zombie."
Thank you for stating the obvious.
Good thing that I didn't blush, or else, my embarrassment will be ten times more apparent.
Seriously, why didn't he say earlier?
I give him the stinky eye.
"It wouldn't have hurt to tell."
"You're cute, even in zombie mode."
"Shut up," I emphasize my annoyance with a slap at the back of his head.
But he catches my wrist and presses a kiss on my open palm.
Hastily, I leave the counter.
"Uh, be back in five."
"Okay." His disarming smile dissolves all sense of reason in my head.
Oh, god, what on earth is he doing to me?
How can he give me these mix signals?
Is he really not aware how much he drives me crazy?
"I'll order two more fries.
Any for you?"
I force a timid, "Nah," and I eagerly make my way to the comfort room.
I almost trip because my vision has turned blurry with unshed tears.
As soon as he is out of sight, I can't help but let my frustration show.
I march towards the huge mirror and pound on it like a crazed girl.
Marriage!
My reddened eyes quickly dart away from the image of the miserable woman in front of me.
Small, broken and so so pitiful.
This is not the Jolie that I know.
This is not me.
"I don't understand you, Karim," I whisper to my reflection.
"Why are you making this difficult for me?"
I hug myself, fingers tightly gripping my arms in an attempt to make myself feel.
I take quick gulps of air to calm myself before pushing myself to the sink.
I wash my face like the water can take some of my feelings with it down the drain.
And then I close my eyes.
I don't know how long I've been there, but when I hear another woman enter the comfort room, I am yanked back to my senses.
For a moment, I see pity flash through her eyes before she enters one of the stalls.
She knows.
If I go out like this, will he know as well?
I can't let that happen.
Only when I'm sure that I look presentable enough did I decide to go out.
I plaster a big, big smile on my face.
I probably look fake, but who cares?
Hastily, I scramble out of the room, back to the booth where my unfinished milkshake and Karim's fries are littered.
He's gone.
Karim is gone.
He left me.
More tears fall and this time, I do not bother to hide them.
"Why her, Karim?" I ask the empty space in front of me.
"Why not me?"
I felt my phone buzz.
Emergency.
Mom needs 2 see me.
Sorry.
Next tym, I'll bring Lana.
BTK, I paid 4 our meal.
Love ya' P.S. eat my fries 4 me, k?
Eyes on the road, snotty boy,I text back with shaking fingers.
Without waiting for an answer, I toss the thing inside my bag.
Groaning, I sink on my sit and bury my face onto my hands.
It is one thing to know that your first love reciprocates your feelings.
It's an altogether different issue knowing that his love for you isn't enough.
"Because someday I'll be more than what you thought I would be."
And true enough, my very dense best friend brought his beautiful fiancée to meet me – and it was the worst timing ever.
"What the – ?" My eyes pop out of their sockets as soon as I see him making his way to me.
Oh, no, no, no, no!
I'm dreaming.
I must be dreaming!
I am about to go back stage, about to perform in fifteen minutes, and instead of being calm, ol' me, I am currently hyperventilating.
Just the thought of Karim watching me do my violin solo is too distracting!
Not to mention I'm already a nervous wreck without him here.
"J!" he exclaims merrily, but my attention is fixed to the statuesque redhead right behind him.
I know exactly who she is.
I've seen pictures of her before.
Even though this is our first face-to-face meeting, I feel like I've known her all my life.
That she likes penguins and never eats anything other than salads.
That she keeps a turtle at home named Noe.
That she was a senior in high school when she had her first car – a pink Camry.
That she is a Fashion Design student, and that she works part time as a magazine model.
God, need I be reminded that every time we talk, Karim manages to squeeze in something about her in our conversations?
My mood plummets to the soles of my feet.
This is my only chance to get a Peyton scholarship, as I have not enough money to continue in the Master of Music program.
I can't mess this up!
I seriously can't mess this up!
But, why oh why, is Karim doing this to me, messing with my head, on my big day?
!
What crime did I do in my past life to deserve this?
"What are you doing here?" I hide my violin case behind me, and with it, my shaking hands.
Lana follows my every movement, making me very conscious of my entire appearance.
Compared to her, I must seem as plain as boiled potatoes.
I want to keep a bit of dignity to myself so I offer her my brightest smile, my best asset.
She smiles back, and I'm dazzled.
This is too effed up!
Someone above must be enjoying my torture.
Karim gives me a quick hug.
Honestly, am I in a heaven in the middle of hell?
"What's with the question?
I'm obviously here to eat ice cream because this is an ice cream parlor," he laughs, rolling his eyes.
"You're my best pal.
How can I not support you?"
"You never told me you're coming."
"And what?
Ruin my surprise?" He pulls the redheaded girl closer to him and wraps an arm around her small waist.
"Lana, this is my childhood friend, Jolie Stone.
J, this is my sweet Lana."
Lana offers her left hand.
"I'm not sweet, believe me." She grins boldly, her cherry red lips a bit too loud for me, color-wise.
"Lana Walker."
My cold hand reaches for hers.
I fake another smile, and hope it will deceive her critical eyes.
You know, women have very strong instincts especially when it comes to their men.
If Karim gets wind of how I truly feel, he'll avoid me like the plague itself.
I can't risk that.
"Ever planned to ditch this guy?" I say to her conspiringly.
Jokes are always half-meant, and I hope Karim doesn't get my message.
"He's clingy and vain.
Surely, you could do better than this dork here."
"Hey!
Don't corrupt her!" he laughs, playfully pushing me away.
I smirk at him.
"See?
He's whipped!"
Lana quirks a perfectly plucked brow at me, and for a moment, I feel cold dread in the pits of my stomach.
"I know I deserve more, but I think he can catch up to me real quick.
Right, apple pie?"
I mentally gag.
Apple pie?
Karim?
He was letting her call him that?
"Number twelve?
Ms. Stone?" someone from the back stage calls my name.
I turn around, and a man beckons me to be quick.
"You're up in ten."
"B-Be there!" I stutter as the nerves return like a tsunami.
I am going to perform.
I need to concentrate.
I need to focus.
Forget Karim.
Forget Lana.
Who am I fooling?
"Good luck, J!" Karim says as I clumsily make my way to the back stage area.
"I know you can bag this!"
"Shut up!" I yell back before disappearing.
I see around twenty-odd musicians inside, some pacing, and some idly staring at their instruments.
We are in a sound-proof room just behind the stage, isolate from whatever masterpiece the person on stage is playing.
With a gulp, I notice a handful of violinists among them.
My nervousness multiplies by a tenfold.
Oh, god, can I really do this?