Special Tutoring

Forbidden Fruit

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[German]

Liebing : darling

Onkel: uncle

[French]ménage à trois: threesome

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Vardin - *Sorry for the delay. Kinda wrote myself into a corner. Wrote and rewrote (+3 X times since publishing). Still not satisfied. Please tell me what do you think?*

I didn't go to Ethan's the next Saturday. Or the one after. I could say that I was too caught up with the varsity cheerleading practices. But that was just an excuse.

Now and then I caught myself sneaking glances at my iPhone, as if willing a message from him. But there have been no other messages since.

Mortified by what had happened that evening, I could not bring myself to face him.  Yet I ached for another glimpse of him. So I peeped out of my window whenever he ran past. He still looked thin and now acquired a little blond stubble which complemented his thick hair. Only once did he look up, as if he knew I was watching him. I hurriedly ducked behind the curtains, afraid that he caught sight of me.

I didn't understand why, but it hurt me more to see him going about his daily routine as if nothing happened. Whereas I was caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emos that I couldn't seem to get out of.

Unable to express outwardly the unhappiness I had never experienced before, I became withdrawn. Even my parents noticed, then dismissed it as a "passing phase", especially given that our varsity cheer team was in competition mode. As long as I was doing well in school, they didn't care what I did, i.e. being the "supportive" parents they were.

Amy, equally non-plussed, could only offer me little comfort. We were used to being popular and lack no attention from the guys. But Ethan, being older and more experienced, was unknown territory. All she could do was pronounce him a "emotionless d-ckface" and implore me to accept any of the date offers that I was constantly innudated with. "Go out with Trevor McGill," she suggested just the other day.

If I were Amy, I could accept this ending and move on. But I was not Amy and she was not me. I was reluctant to give up the forbidden fruit now that I have already taken a tantalizing bite.

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Listlessly, I pushed my dessert around the plate as I listened to my parents drone on about the delicate situation in Syria. We were at my favorite Italian place for a late dinner after a football match. Their tiramisu used to be able to alleviate my mood. But I doubted that the velvety sweetness could help now.

Then I saw him come into the restaurant with a small posse of friends. I almost ducked instinctively, but caught myself in time. I stole surreptitious glances at him, worried that my parents would notice otherwise.

Ethan leant against the bar counter, chatting with his friends. He wasn't wearing his usual tee and jeans, like them, but more formally in a shirt and vest. As if on a date, I thought sourly. That was when I noticed a very pretty girl with long shiny reddish gold locks and creamy complexion perched on a nearby stool, paying way too much attention to him in particular. She kept toying with her hair and smiling cloyingly at him, looking at him even when he was not the one talking.

I was irritated when I saw him throw his head back in laughter at something she said (never saw him laugh when talking to me). But when that girl placed her hand on his arm and whispered into his ear, I saw red. Fisting my hands under the table, it was all I could do not to go up and tear every strand of her hair out of her head.