Can I be your favorite?

Chapter 9: Round one, fight!

Anika's POV

I reach my hand out towards Ricardo. He looks at me confused, his brows furrowed, and lips pursed. I wait patiently for him to hesitantly reach out and grab my hand. I help him up to his feet and guide him towards the bartender, not saying a word. I look up at the menu and order a plate of French fries and a glass of beer for him. We take a seat at the stools situated in front of the counter. While we wait, I send a quick text to Chris, saying I will be leaving a little later than planned.

From the side of my eye, I catch Ricardo grinning at me. I offer a questioning smile in return. "You don't have to pretend; I can see right through your act. I will admit that you had me con-" "I'm not pretending?" I interrupt, a little confused. Ricardo grins wider, "I can see you're in denial, but baby... you can't be jealous of every woman that throws themselves at me! It's only natural that woman will be attracted to me-" I chuckle, tilting my head to the side. "I'm not jealous either" Ricardo still didn't look like he believed me, his eyes glittering with mischievous intent. However, his bright smirk dimed as I continued to face him with a blank stare.

 Both of us sat in complete silence for a while; Ricardo contemplating my nonchalant words as I slowly plucked French fries and pop then into my mouth, enjoying their saltiness, when suddenly a shout from my left startles us both. "Oh, c'mon! That's clearly not out!" I look up at the tiny tv screen, mounted on the wall, to see what the girl was screaming at. I find the 2024 cricket world cup semi-finals: India VS Pakistan, streaming live. I look down at the person groaning in frustration next to me.

A girl dressed in a green Pakistan knock off jersey and dark blue jeans, had her eyes glued to the screen, avidly following the match. Her posture was tense, her drink untouched while she muttered something in her native tongue. "Pakistan?" I ask, skeptically. Her head swivels in my direction, giving me a proper view of her face. She has green and white face paint smudged across her cheeks, right underneath her black eyes, which were framed by her silver rimmed, square glasses. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail.

She quickly looks me up and down, unimpressed, she turns her attention back to the screen. "India?" she replies, contempt and disdain dripping from her soft voice. I let my silence answer her question, both of us reaching a mutual understanding as fans of the cricket world.

"Wait. You're serious?" Ricardo exclaims, incredulously, brining my attention back towards him. Momentarily pausing the rivalry between the 'enemy' and myself, I catch the shock that was painted on his features, his eyebrows raised. I look at him, genuinely confused, wondering what the hell is he talking about. He gives me an exasperated look, "You literally saw me holding another girl in my arms and you have absolutely no reaction? Like, are you even serious about our relationship or is this all a game to you?" he asks, his last statement sounding more accusatory. I sigh, fed up with his nonsense. Today a lot of people seem to be asking pointless questions. "Of course I'm serious" I reply. I lift up my index finger and continue, "first of all, I know that Niki was shit faced drunk and probably accidently stumbled into your arms and secondly" I raise another finger up whilst pointing at him "I know you well enough to understand you were just trying to help her." I state, taking another bite of his French fries. He swats away my hand when I reach for another. "Buy your own damn fries" he murmurs, protecting his French fries.

"I still don't understand. How...?" He looks slightly pissed off, like a child throwing a tantrum. I sigh again, using every ounce of patience in my body to help me get through this without strangling him.

I mean, the guy disappears for an entire week, leaving me sick with worry and anxiety. Then he shows up at the pub like nothing significant has happened, further causing a scene with a girl who isn't his girlfriend. Instead of being fucking relived that I am not furious with him, he gets frustrated that I am not. What the actual hell?! I am angry with him. When he walked into that door, I wanted kiss him senseless and then proceed to beat the crap out of him for ghosting me. For the second time. I imagined him laying sprawled on the floor with blood oozing out of his nose from where its broken with lukewarm beer staining his precious white jumper. This would be after I had verbally assaulted him and his entire family in all the languages I know. Trust me, I know a lot of languages.