Deflower

Chapitre Sept

Curiosity was in the essence of her nature; no other reason behind the fact that she had agreed to watch a film with Kyle. There was an uncanny sense of suspicion within her she could not quite shake; she urged to know why two boys—two boys with quite the reputation, too— suddenly were so drawn to her. She had shared her feelings with her girlfriends, a few evenings prior, but, of course, and it did not surprise her, they called her foolish for seeking for an explanation behind their interest; she had to be crazy. Who wouldn't want to go on a date with the Kyle Garçia?

Lourdes loved old Hollywood films— Marilyn Monroe, Alain Delon,... She admired the chivalry that was yet left standing those days, the glitz, the glamour, the femmes fatales she so badly saw herself in— though carried a certain façade around her, and only those close to her had been faced with her blasphemous side—, she liked to think of herself as a modern day making of one. One that was innocent and naïve but still cunning and intelligent: one who was outrageously, untouchably, beautiful, on the inside and out.

So naturally, when she received a phone call from Kyle— and she had wondered within her mind how he had gotten her phone number, but she asked no further questions— and he suggested watching Gone With The Wind in open air, she couldn't refuse. Although people frequently attended the drive-in theaters merely to get it on, Lourdes thought it was beautiful, idyllic, and nostalgic, certainly when the sky was dark and the stars shone bright.

Lounging (supposedly) elsewhere than Kyle and his two friends, Lourdes stared at herself in the window of one of the sleek vehicles before her— only for her visage to grow red when she noticed that there was an individual sitting in the car whom had began giggling ever so slightly at her obliviousness. Lourdes wore her thick, brown hair down— which had been cut, and framed her face beautifully and made her appear more mature, dangerous, sexy— and she wore a polo and a hemmed plaid skirt, lips tainted with lipgloss.

A large hand gripped her shoulder and Lourdes turned upon her heels instantly; Kyle furrowing his arched brows as he took in her shoulder-length, layered haircut. Allistair stood behind him—and to the side of Allistair a frail blonde, with to her left Thomas, void of a female companion, but he didn't mind— and his eyes inevitably flickered to her lips. His hand was tightly wrapped around the blondes torso and the site made Lourdes frown, a foreign feeling she withheld within the pit of her stomach.

Thomas greeted her politely— with which Lourdes was satisfied— per Kyle and Allistair simply stared at her, desperately aching to break the tension that hung in the air. The blonde female had done the same, and Lo returned the favor so kindly— despite the fact that she already disliked her and her pinafore dress: the way her visage screamed I am not like the other girls when there was in-fact nothing wrong with their fellow women.

"Why'd you cut your hair?" Kyle asked after a few (long) moments of blinking toward one-another— he was still unsure of his opinion upon the matter. He liked his girls with long hair, bare feet and tan skin, but Lourdes, he had to admit, looked dangerously attractive void of her dark, endless curls. He inquired it as casual as possible— as if it was any of his business, Lo thought to herself— and Lourdes didn't appear too contended with it.

"Because I wanted to," Lourdes face was ice-cold and perhaps emotionless as she gave Kyle a side-eye, "let's go now, shall we? I think the movie is going to start any moment now, and I wouldn't want to miss it." She tucked her hair beneath her ear as she spoke as gently as it was meant roughly— her words flew from her lips like sweet honey but stung like a dozen of enraged bees. Venom dripped from her lips and Kyle couldn't decipher if it was intentional, or not.

"Of course, lets go," Kyle agreed, still a bit taken aback at how the sweet-mannered and polite girl had been not so fresh to him, but he liked it. The closer he drew himself to her, the more he could unravel her and the nearer he approached what he wanted. He was close to winning the bet, he was sure of it, and he would take any opportunity there was to shove it in his friends foolish faces.

Allistair gripped her wrist softly as they walked toward Kyles vehicle—and the one belonging to Allistair, which solely he and his girl would occupy; doing things that made bile rise up within Lourdes' throat— and gave her a glance, her soft, kind features bare and that was the way he liked it; he thought she was beautiful, so beautiful he wanted to see her completely ruined under his power. To see her in that uppermost vulnerability, was his dream. No, their dream. They were shamelessly vulgar and they reveled in it.

"Your hair," he began, tone soft and sincere and even Thomas arose his brows— surprised that he was truthfully bound to give her a compliment, but then again, they all knew why he did so—, "It looks–" Lourdes interrupted him, eyes narrowed but corners of her lips pointing towards the dark sky.

"It's okay, I don't really need your opinion."

Perhaps she was a bit bitter—and perhaps she had taken liking to Allistair, and seeing him with a girl like the blonde adolescent next to him disappointed her; it made her aware of how low his standards were and, that she could do much better, too. Her behavior, however, only did the contrary of what was intended; her coldness solely drew Allistair to her— at that moment, she reminded him of himself. But he didn't say that; it wouldn't be a compliment.

Few moments after Lo's wary response, she, Kyle, and Thomas took place within his crème colored vehicle—sparking the slightest sense of guilt within Thomas; this was what they were bound to break a girl's heart for— and some drowsy Italian tunes played before them. She seemed resilient. Thomas ached slightly, for it was a side of her he'd never noticed, and neither had his friends— they only saw the length of her skirt and her legs, the size of her breasts and those innocent eyes.

And Kyle spent two hours—almost—, as the film played before him and the girl next to Allistair did things to the tall boy that were by far not associated with the movie, staring at Lourdes. He wanted to address to her but he didn't know what to say, he wanted her to speak and him to listen, but he shook his head each time and neglected it. He didn't know what he was going to do to win her for himself, but he was persuasive to do it, somehow. Winning and scoring was his obligation on the field, it was what he was used to and if he wanted something badly, he always ended up with it within the palm of his hand. Right now, he wanted Lourdes, and that meant that he would ultimately do anything to, first, obtain her affection, and then, her body.