IILICIT AFFAIRS ━━ Lamelo Ball

2.3

A debut is probably the most important party that a Filipina will ever host. Well, maybe next to a wedding reception. But nonetheless, debuts are a pretty big deal in my culture. To go more in depth, think of it as a quince, but for Filipinas who turn 18. That's essentially what a debut is. There's dances, speeches. It's 18 roses and 18 candles, but if you don't have that many friends or relatives, 9 roses or 9 candles could work, but traditionally it's 18. Excluding my sister and my own, I'd been to about 5 debuts before I turned 18. Each and every time, it was magical. There was this homely vibe to it. Debuts are fuckin' sick, let me tell you that.

Out of the seven debuts that I'd been to, Willa's was definitely the best one I'd been to. She planned the hell out of that party. She had this binder of her dream debut that she started in, what? Ninth grade? Willa had everything planned to the T, and nothing could really ruin it. Nothing. Not even Lonzo, Lamelo, and Cassandra crashing the party.

To this day, I don't know what compelled those three to do what they did. I summed it up to FOMO; basically the entirety of Chino Hills was invited except for the Dreys and the Balls. Willa didn't care enough, though. She was on cloud fuckin' nine. She was having the time of her life, but I'm certain she noticed Lonzo or Cassandra at one point.

The start of the debut was cut-and-paste. You've got your dances, your speeches, the 18 roses and the 18 candles. Once that was all done, the people ate. People danced. The venue was packed with high schoolers, our relatives from California. Both sets of grandparents flew from home to not only visit, but to attend Willa's debut.

During the cotillion dance, the entry doors flew open, and in came the trio I just mentioned. They definitely dressed to the occasion, though obviously out of place. It wasn't that they were over or underdressed, but I mean, it's easy to spot a cool blue in a sea of creamy beiges, baby pinks, and reds. I was paired with this guy our age, Lance de los Reyes, and while my heart was mostly reserved for Lamelo, Lance was always... someone there. I think if I knew to stop chasing Lamelo, I would have been with Lance.

Anyway, at that point in time, I was forgetting about Lamelo. My sister's an August baby, so hers was just before school started. I saw Lamelo around, but never more than just a glimpse. He was back to cold, and the last that I had spoken to him was lunchtime three days before school ended. Meaning, I hadn't talked to him for over three months. Social media wasn't an option, since we never followed each other or bothered to talk on there. It's weird. I'm stupid.

That whole night leading up to that point, Lance delos Reyes was swooning me, or at least he made me feel what Lamelo had been making me feel. I never really noticed Lance before that night. I was always around him in some way; we had classes together and our sisters were best friends. Lance and I were partnered for the cotillion dance. I think it says a lot that Lance was one of nine guys Willa handpicked for the cotillion dance. I had eighteen and eighteen, she had nine and nine. Willa was quite amicable, but she said she wanted nine and nine because it made it more... intimate for her. As her sister, I'm not surprised she did that. It's a very Willa move.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the cotillion.

The nineteen of us spent every Saturday for the past three weeks perfecting this dance. Willa was always a bit of a control freak. She liked to control the controllables. So, every Saturday, Lance and I would dance, but Lamelo would always be on my mind as the music played and I waltzed with Lance.

Willa's cotillion dance was near perfect. It's textbook. It's the type of video you show as an example. Even with Lamelo, Cassandra, and Lonzo crashing the party. But the thing is, I'd been feeling up Lance delos Reyes that entire night. Willa's cotillion dance was not perfect because I fucked it, just like I always do. Lamelo caught my eye, and instead of looking at Lance's, he and I made this... longing eye contact. My muscles carried me; three weeks doing the same dance for an hour and half gives you that ability to dance mindlessly. He looked at me like I was the only girl in the room. I think Lance noticed me stumble or lose focus because he cleared his throat, and I was back to reality. I was back to remembering Lamelo didn't give a fuck about me.