amoureux garçon

Chapter Seven: Allure My Love

word count: 1.3k

I walked outside the double doors carrying my training duffel bag. I reached for my pockets and searched for my Bluetooth earpieces to play music on my way home. 

"Who are you waiting for?" A soft, ear-soothing like voice lured itself right into my eardrums. I stopped searching inside my pockets and turned to look to my left.

My bag slowly slipped from my shoulder as soon as my eyes met hers, her cheeks were slightly tinted of a red crimson colour, her black hair instead of being wound softly into a high ponytail, was straightened, its length was just below her breasts, hair tucked to perfection behind her right ear. My eyes fell onto the cigarette she held between her middle finger and ring finger, bright red painted nails.

She rapidly pulled out of her pockets a little mirror, she sighed almost sounding like a whimper of frustration and as she reached back into the inner pockets of her leather black jacket, she brought the cigarette to her lips trying to hold the mirror at a distance from her face; from her pocket she pulled out a eyeliner and turned towards me with a slight grin on her lips.

"I must look pretty for you to be looking at me like that," she whispered and maybe I could have been dreaming but her voice had a very alluring tone to it.
She then quickly rolled the lid of the mascara open and I gazed at her while she stroked a perfect line just above her long eyelashes. She looked at me through the mirror and cleared her throat.

Please don't say anything.

Please don't say anything.

I hated talking, I only talked when I wanted and I didn't. I had a feeling from the type of cough it was she was ever more than ready to ask me the question she had asked before and I had obviously ignored.

I looked away and went back to searching. I couldn't find them damn shits, why was it so hard? I always had them. I hated talking on my way back home I preferred listening to music and the fact that it was taking me longer than usual made my blood boil from deep within, loud thumping drum like sound in my ears.

"Who are you waiting for Mercedes?"
So she did remember my name.

"I'm just searching for my AirPods."

"Which one of the tennis players, golf players, basketball or football players is your boy?" She asked.

"I've rejected most of them, I know a few have crushes on me. None of them."

"You're right, they aren't worth it. What about the one you think is worth it? Does he go high-school here?" Coach always made sure to pick her words carefully, when she choose her words it was almost as if it was a game to her: get to know this athlete as much as you can, don't dismiss their feelings, ask them as many questions as you want, like a therapist ask them how they feel. Touch. Touch, everything with your eyes: their nerves, arteries... everything then wait before feeling with your hands and when you've gathered enough information hand them their prescription.

Everything sounded so funny, suddenly I wanted to burst out laughing, setting the air I was long keeping trapped, right out of my lungs. It was funny how she referred to the boys in the other varsity as boys instead of men, was she trying to say I wasn't able to attract men? I was. The type of men who liked the look of skirts right below the thickest layer of my thighs, who liked to stare at my naked legs on my way home, the ones who'd hand me their confessions on sterling silver plates. The ones who's breath had a lovely scent of I love yous.

They only want whatever makes you, you when you're seventeen, Coach would say. Coach looked younger than her age, that's why men in our fields were all over her feet and she would just step right over them. When you're my age the fun ceases.

It was funny how she was suddenly showing me a lot of interest and completely tried to turn all our conversations into my own personal life.

"I'm not sure."

"Why is that so?"

I looked in front of me and before I could reply her eyes were looking right directly to what I was looking at. I turned my head towards her and she had a smile on her lips, her eyebrows rayed in awe and she tucked in her lips, licked nervously and pouted them right out.

"Because of him, right? Fluffy blonde hair, tall, Adonis blood flowing through his veins, with the dangling earring that can be seen from miles away."—she shoved her mirror and eyeliner in her outside pockets instead of the inner pockets of her jacket—"I like him. He's cute, he's the prettiest I've seen so far all the other boys think it's too feminine any form of skincare or body care routine. He must be rich right?" A sadistic like smile was painted on her lips as she brought the cigarette to her lips.

"Well—"

"He's definitely walking this way. I better get going I guess he'll want me out of the way, see you in the next weeks Mercedes, have a nice night."

My heart squished, the type of damped-rug-squish that isn't and doesn't feel good. I kept on reaching for her, for whatever she from then on possessed of me, whatever she knew about me; I didn't want her to leave. She had to know a lot of me, she needed to know more about me, she kept on asking and all I was doing was handing her over plain answers, turning corners of pages, just not to answer her many questions.

"Goodnight Coach."
She left and the way she left said it all. I wanted her to feed me, cause there was nothing more in me, apart from my hunger that craved from her, her presence, the presence, the availability she gave to all the other athletes apart from me. My stomach filled with gluttony and it was almost impossible for me not to stop from the loud rumbling, I should have grabbed her arm yet part of me didn't want her to stay.

Part of me still wanted to be left alone.

"I guess she's the lucky one." Pierre's hand was on my shoulder and i slowly dragged myself out from my own thoughts and looked at him, gunmetal eyes staring back into mine with no feelings. Where was he? In his own world? When I was right in front of him. His lips pressed into a tight line, he grabbed my black training duffel bag from the ground, held it a few inches from the ground and started walking.
"Come home with me for a while , my parents are out for dinner and since I finished training early I guessed we could have some fun at my house: with my friends." Usually I would have been put off by such bluntness plus him not asking before grabbing my bag would have been a no go and I'd be already walking away from him in the opposite way but it was Pierre.

"Why?" I asked coldly. "Last time I checked I was hundred percent able to hold my own stuff."

"Today must have been tiring, my house is kind of closer, plus a little help won't hurt anyone, Mercedes."

Today must have been tiring.

"Anything else?"

"I want you to meet her." He whispered.

She. Of course it had to be her. I turned and looked at him, no emotions, no expressions, just his relaxed petite features, the warmth of the breeze blowing right through his fluffy blonde hair. Whatever made him, him, nothing else. Why didn't he smile a little?