destined. | h.s

15. a PH and a Brit day

Ariella's P.O.V

“We’re so going to miss you, Ariella!” Maggie, a classmate of mine spoke, then sipping from a Martini glass.

Today was some sort of farewell party for us who took the scholarship; we held it in the school gym, strictly, for us only. I can’t believe Mom and Dad allowed me to take in a few shots, saying, “Come on, you’re nineteen.”

One day rest which will be tomorrow and I’m back there. Abi and Debbie will follow two days later, we three planned on renting an apartment for us. So, first thing I’ll do when I arrive is search for a place to stay and then enrol.

A few more people gave there ‘I’ll miss you’ and ‘Good luck’s before the music was put to blast and everybody are dancing to their heart’s content. This was complete replica of the party we had when we won as a choir in National’s.

As happy as I look like, a part of me, feels sad, still. Philippines, my home, will always be where I started out.

I’m sorry I’m getting all cheesy here sitting while sipping a little from a glass of vodka. As I down the drink, the bittersweet taste of the drink gets to me and I feel so shaky, shivery. Don’t worry I’m not going to be so drunk, never been.

The music was ringing against my ear, and everything feels so into its right position, enjoying myself. Not until, a man with his famous varsity jacket and skin-tight jeans, quaffed hair, appeared in my eyesight.

I tried looking away as much as possible and busied myself by continuously sipping the vodka and ignoring his stare and ‘look–at–me’ act. The small alcohol I took was taking effect on me, and I felt furious like I wanted him to get a slap before I leave. Still, I was constantly reminding myself to keep myself together and bring down my bad temper.

With only a view of him at the tip of my eye, I saw him motion towards me, with a now pathetic smile which made me tense up more. He touched my shoulder and I flinched. “Don’t touch me, you fake.” I sternly commanded shrugging off his hand.

“You’re leaving and you haven’t forgiven me yet.”

“You think it’s that easy, do I look like some shallow girl?” I spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, but–”

“But what? You’re still expecting me to let this all off so suddenly.” I cut him off.

“That is why I am doing my best, okay, I am.” He tries to convince me.

“Like what, by dating a bombshell and casually talking to me like you’re not a charlatan.” I breathe out.

“Charlatan?”

“Oh, goddamn it, you know how to put some posh accent and you don’t understand charlatan?” I rubbed my temples and ‘tsked’ him, “It means a con artist fool, a faker.”

“I’m sorry, I told you that like for the umpteenth time, Ari. You see, you saw your best friend like thirteen years ago, and you’re still hoping that you’ll meet him and continue your puppy ‘love’.” He spoke air quoting ‘puppy love’.

“Puppy love? Did I say I had a crush on him, NO! I’m still hoping, yes, because I was curious, and at least as a seven or six year old, he was being a gentleman not quack.” I replied in defence.

“I, I di–”

“Now, don’t tell me you didn’t mean it, because you did. And I’m sorry I won’t give you what you want, I’ll go live in London in peace, and forget you even existed!” I half yelled. Sighing, he seemed defeated, me? I feel proud.