Crazy is the Name of My Game

(30) Patience and Wit

Erica Santos

"Yeah right," were the first words that escaped my mouth. Creative, I know. I would have snorted if I was physically capable of it, but it's like my lips were not my own, so scratch that. But what do you expect?  I was in shock. Sure, I like the guy. More than like. Interested. Attracted. I could even go as far as saying I cared for him. But soul mates? Wasn't that too much too chew and swallow?

Honestly, I was trying to deny what he said -- maybe misheard it? -- because, believe me, things were bound to get ugly when a supposedly ultra-mega-super-magic-wielding boy confessed to you his eternal love... and claimed that you are his only -- ONLY -- weakness.

"Erica, do I look like I'm joking?"

Was he a mind reader now?

Lucky for him, I was too tired to be angry. I settled for a more mellow approach.

I puffed my cheeks like a chipmunk, a reaction my father used to receive whenever he was lecturing me, or trying to lecture me. "You don't have to say Erica all the time. I can remember my own name."

He groaned.

"You're doing it again." He pulled away from me and sat to my left, the feeble light from outside casting a silhouette of him. He looked miserable. I probably looked worse.

"Doing what?" I said in sweet innocence.

"You're changing the topic."

"Am not."

"You are."

"So what?"

"Erica --"

"Seriously? You don't listen to others, do you?"

"What do I have to do to make you believe me?" One hand brushed against my cheeks, and I stiffened at the contact. “What do I have to do to prove myself?”

"I-I advise you to distance yourself for a while." My heart was hammering. So fast, so heavy, it hurt. When he made no such move, I hissed a ‘fine’ and climbed off the bed, slumping on the floor where my shoes were. I closed my eyes to calm myself.

Relax, calm down, chill, I recited to myself over and over again. Oh god, did he really say soul mates? Like, the forever kind of thing soul mates?

I became aware of his knee touching the back of my head. Or was it his hand?

"What are you doing?" he asked as I imagined him leaning over me.

Trying to be nice and not punch you in the face. "I'm thinking. I need some time alone you know, but you don't seem to be generous enough to give me my privacy."

"Come back here."

As he said that, I could feel a shiver of desire ran through me, and I almost wanted to go back and have his strong arms around me. He could be sweet, thoughtful, hurting, angry and at the same time annoying. When he's around, I usually don't know who is the real him, and perhaps that's why I'm royally pissed at him.

Len sounded mostly worried tonight though, as if I was about to bash my skull on the lamp stand or something. I mean, hello. I am freaked out, not mentally unstable.

"Can you leave?" I sighed, tucking my knees under my chin. "So much has happened. I really, really want some alone time."

Who's the liar now?

I terribly needed him at this moment because who was I kidding? I was afraid. I finally got my answers and it was more than I could handle. From a mere game of hide-and-seek, my life was sprinkled with bizarre things that was on the verge of insanity, like magic and time-traveling and past lives and undying love. Seriously, if my life was made into a movie, it would have been a major crappy film with an outrageous cookie earned for its out-of-this-world-turn-here-twist-there plot. No one would be more confused than me.