Groom Wars

30. Not Strange at All

After the elimination match, we returned to the house, our hearts more buoyant with the burden of the challenge behind us. Men poured themselves drinks in the kitchen; some smoked outside.

I went into the kitchen and climbed onto the counter to reach the top cupboard. The house was slowly getting rowdy. Voices rose. People laughed at jokes that were only funny with alcohol.

I opened the cupboard door and found shelves filled with snacks. A boy said, "Pass me the chips." Then, for a minute or so, I passed down goods to reaching hands before I grabbed a bag of caramel popcorn for myself, hopped down, and hid it beneath my shirt. Since we had a limited supply of snacks and the staff refilled the supplies every other day, I secured my baby.

It was a good decision as a fight broke out behind me over a pack of Oreos.

"I touched it first."

"I saw it first."

As the boys arm-wrestled to decide the fate of the Oreos, I wedged my way through the swirling mass of bodies and chaos. The disruption in the atmosphere was akin to that of warriors returning home after the war. They wanted to revel. They wanted to shout. They hadn't been eliminated, and excitement flooded their veins, clouded their reasoning. I didn't join them in their carousing; I trudged down the halls, holding my belly as if pregnant, protecting my treasure.

Afterward, I entered my room; the lights were dimmed. The bodies were draped in shadows. Leandro sat on his bed. Two jagged lines of red paint marred his celestial face. He looked up at my entrance, a bemused smile on his lips. I sat next to him and removed the popcorn from under my shirt. "Voila," I told him.

"What's it for?"

"To celebrate your win." As I suspected, cameras and lights gradually found us together. But we grew accustomed to the accompaniment of strangers and continued to be our natural selves.

He said, "I'll have some if you feed it to me."

"So annoying, but I'm too proud of you to protest," I muttered. I opened the package, and my fingers stroked the sweet bulbs inside. I held one for Leandro. His lips brushed my fingers; it was a light feathery touch, but it left a prickling sensation. His teeth crushed the puffed corn, and he chewed it disinterestedly. "How do you feel?" I asked.

He yawned. "Exhausted."

We sat with our backs against the wall. Leandro placed his head atop mine; his hair brushed the side of my face and settled on my shoulder. I felt his weight pressing down on me. Felt his presence creep into my mind. I became aware of him. Every twitch of his finger. Every kick of his leg. Every breath. He lazily rested his arm on my thigh, and his fingers travelled upwards till he squeezed my knee.

I imagined going into my chest and standing in front of my racing heart.

I told it, 'You will not fall in love without my permission. You will stop this nonsense now. I command you to stop.'

Leandro's finger drew circles on my knee, resuming his assault.

Unable to bear it any longer, I gently nudged Leandro's cheek with my shoulder. He slowly removed his head and watched me; confused lines creased his forehead. I said, "It's late, sir, and I find myself feeling tired. I have decided to go to bed."

He frowned and asked softly, "Did I upset you?"

I crawled out of his bed and stood on the tiles near him. "No. Me? Upset? No." I laughed. "I left something somewhere, and I'm going to go get that thing from wherever it may be."

He chuckled softly. "So, you're not acting strange at all?"

"Nay."

"And what you said just now makes sense to you?"

"Perfect sense, sir."

He smiled. "Alright. You can go find the thing you left somewhere."

"Thank you, sir, for understanding."

"I understand quite well." A half-smile remained on his face, but his eyes held some emotion I couldn't decipher. "Have a goodnight, little brother."

"Goodnight." My stomach clenched to the point that I could no longer eat, and I hid the bag of popcorn under my pillow till later. As I sought privacy, I went to the washroom and locked myself in one of the small bathrooms within. It was cleaned after each shower by a maid. I could smell the citrus of the Lysol cleaner they had used. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The haunted expression on my face. I didn't want to love him. I really, really didn't want to fall in love with that guy. Not when I had the promises to my family to fulfil.

I focused on breathing.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

I splashed my face with cold water from the faucet.

Icy droplets dripped down my skin.

I told myself, "Okay, we can do this, we will not fall in love with Leandro Valente."

My reflection nodded.

***