Love Is Symphony |✓

| 25 |

Falling into a routine for the past two weeks came to me as natural as breathing. It was as if my mind was set on auto-pilot and even if I was floating on air, I knew where I was headed. I had my goals, and that was what kept me afloat without crashing down.

Prove him that I could endure this, that was my mantra. I recited it every morning when I wake up and at night before my eyes drift close. And I had endured quite well, taking in the skin of a chameleon that changed its hue to its corresponding need.

Standing in front of my full length mirror, I stood straighter, grabbed the darkest hue of red lipstick that I owned and swiped it across my lips.

There. I smacked my lips together in my rarely used red lipstick. I always thought I wasn't confident enough to wear it. Using one always made me feel as if I was an eight year old pretending to be a teen. But Miranda... just thinking about her arms wrapped around your neck was enough to make me burn my entire closet and empty out my wallet for a new wardrobe that would cover all my insecurities.

No. You liked me. You told me so. It was me that you wanted to be with - not her. Satisfied, I looked back to my reflection in the mirror and smiled wider. My teeth sparkled a little brighter against the dark red color of my mouth, but one thought remained.

Prove him that you could endure this. And so, Sean, I endured. I endured and endured, because that was the only thing I knew. But this time, I did it with a smile.

-

"Tell me, are you happy?" Imogen asked, "Does he love you?"

I was silently pleading her with my eyes, but she only raised her brow. I sighed. "He hasn't said it yet. But I know we're getting there. I can feel it."

"Are you guys finally together? Like, officially?"

I don't know. Did having an official public girlfriend while having another one privately made things official? "Yes. Yes, we are."

Imogen stared at me for a second longer, bright green eyes tracing every curve of my face and sighed. "I don't know, Ser. I know you must think I'm so anal about this, but... remember the last time you were heartbroken?"

I did. I knew I never told you, Sean, but Matt Wallace tore my heart into two, long before you even waltzed inside Infusion. He was my greatest love, the guy I knew I'd marry one day, until he left me to be with his mom abroad.

Of course, like an asshole that he was, he left right after we had sex the first time. Don't worry, Sean, he was kind enough to leave a note.

What kind of guy would only leave a note to the girl he said he loved? Apparently, I attracted assholes.

So, I drank and drank and drank, because that was the only way I could endure the pain. The only way I knew how to cope. Before Matt, I thought that the best novels lied—heartbreak didn't physically hurt. But Sean, how wrong I was. It physically hurt. It felt as if something heavy was pressing down on my heart. It became harder to breathe. I fell down to the floor crying, trying to clutch at my chest.

Imogen was there. She wasn't my friend yet. She was closer to Ira, then. A much older waitress with golden locks and brown eyes. They were the same age, and therefore both thought that I was too young for them.

I guess if it weren't for that heartbreak, Imogen and I wouldn't have been friends. She just emerged from the kitchen when she saw me underneath one of the back tables, curled on the floor, eyes swollen and red.

She halted on mid-step. Her eyes widened, breath suspended before her instincts kicked in and she rushed to my side. Suddenly, I was enveloped in her warm hug. She smelt of lavanders, and I snuggled closer to her neck. My hands wrapped around her wrists.

"Shh, I'm here," was what she said. She ran her palm up and down my back. Never had a stranger's hug felt like salvation to me. I never told her, but Sean, Imogen saved me.

Because when Matt left, it felt as if he took every small piece of myself that I've finally collected. Slowly, one by one, until he snatched it all away.

"Now do you understand where I'm coming from?" Imogen pulled me back to the present. She reached out to wrap her hands around mine. "I don't want to see you like that again."

I couldn't help it. Tears fell as I smiled. "Me too, Imogen. But this time it feels right."

-

"So, now she's okay with our relationship?" You glanced at me from the rim of your plastic cup, right brow raised and lips tilted up in amusement.

"Yes. Well, not entirely." You frowned, and I hastily rushed out an explanation, "She still hates you, but she promised that she'll tolerate it better this time as long as you don't make me cry."

"So no more fits?"

"No more." I nodded with a grin, lifting up my own cup in salute.

It was our first night as a couple. Just thinking about calling you my boyfriend made me smile, and tonight, you have certainly outdid yourself. A packed picnic on a private beach with our feet bare on the warm sand—it was breathtaking.

The moon was bright. Though it was a fraction away from being full, to me, it was enough. Just sitting next to you, with your arms wrapped around me, my back pressed against your chest, it was enough.

You scooted closer to me, dragging our plaid blanket along and I was filled with the scent of your cologne. Our eyes met once again, and we both shared a smile.

"Thank you," you whispered against my nape. Your breath was warm against my skin. I shivered and you tightened your hold around me. "I know this isn't easy for you, but you're still here with me."

Shifting, I turned to look at you, into your bluish-gray eyes that were warm with adoration and affection. I love you, it was at the tip of my tongue, but should I say it? If Imogen would only hear the thoughts that were running in my head, she'd probably pull at the ends of my hair until I could no longer feel. It's too early, she'd say, but I knew. I could feel it inside my heart.

"I still can't believe you managed to pull this off," was what I said instead. Coward, I wanted to scream, to jump back into that moment where the opportunity was perfect. But of course, it was gone. It slipped right through my fingers.

Your lips curved into a proud smile. "My manager, Freddie, knows the owner. Some hotshot producer."

"Of course he is," I laughed, gesturing to the glory of the beautiful beach and dark waters that sparkled against the moonlight, "you can't own something like this in California and not be someone."

Suddenly, your smile turned wistful. Lips curving ever-so slightly into the most passionate smiles I've ever seen on you. You looked more beautiful than that beach could ever be in that moment, Sean. "One day," you whispered, eyes sweeping over the wide and open space before us, "one day, I'd get to have my own beach. Have my own penthouse suite, a Lambo or two. A concert with thousands of loving fans... I'd make it someday."

I gave a quick peck to your cheek making you laugh. "What's that for?" you asked.

"Nothing," I said. My fingertip traced over the stain of my bright red lipstick on your cheek. "Just a good luck kiss."

"Well, aren't I, a lucky guy?"

"You bet."

"Do you know the first thing that will be ticked off my wish list?" There were more?

I shook my head and leaned back a little. "What?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, just like the waves that were moving against the sand, you smiled and my heart began its beat. "I've always wanted to kiss the girl with the most perfect red lips under the moonlight."

"You do?"

"I do."

And so, your lips found mine for the second time.