𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐋𝐈

• 41 •

Airplanes scare me. Travelling is amazing and if I get the chance, I'd travel the whole world. The beauty of travel, however, is not enough to make me ignore the horror of planes. I know a lot of people who consider the plane ride as an exciting part of the whole trip, but not me. I hate them. I've stripped myself of all hope that I'd be able to survive a plane crash if—but hopefully not—one happens. I'd be a fried Gia. That is, if my body's still intact.

That's why I turn into a devoted child of God an hour away from every flight. I've always believed that it's personal faith that matters, so whatever religion's sure, I don't know and I don't care, but I appreciate the bit of relief I get once I pray. If it helps, take it.

I leaned to my right, speaking closer to the phone on the passenger's seat, "Yes, I've bought a ticket."

"Good," said Mother, "Now do me a favor and bug Ralph one last time."

I smiled to myself, "I shall."

It's a Friday afternoon—almost evening. I got out of work early and am now headed to the house of the man I've been ignoring for a week. I've been distancing myself from Keenan and I'll keep it up until I make a decision to either leave, stay and hide my feelings in the shadows, or tell him how I feel and hope for the best but also expect the worst.

I haven't seen him since last Friday. A week had passed. We have not been totally out of contact; Keenan messaged me twice. On Monday, it was to send me an edited draft of Terrence and Karylle's nth chapter. I'm still working on the book but progress has been slow since I am now a working woman. Keenan also messaged me on Thursday night—last night. It was a simple 'Are you still alive?'

I made my non-expired existence known with a 'Yes' and the conversation took a turn discussing what we were having for dinner. Then it was steered to when we'll be having dinner again. In other words, when we'll be fucking again. That's why I'm on my way there now. We settled on Friday night.

"How are you, honey?" spoke Lauren through speakerphone.

"I'm fine," I mused, "Just been busy these days."

She hummed a suggestive tune, "With that guy again?" I narrowed my eyes at the traffic light, tsk-ing when it flashed red before the car in front of mine.

"Keenan? No, actually, I haven't seen him since Friday."

Mom spoke, "You sound sad."

"I'm not," I said. Just fucking torn.

An exclamation of pure excitement came after. I could imagine mom sitting up from her bed, the lightbulb above her head suddenly turning on. "Oh!" came her voice, loud, "Why don't you bring him with you?"

I looked oddly at the phone, "No, I don't think I want that."

Mom spoke, "But I do."

I sighed, "We're not... there yet." Yet?

The woman groaned, a sound of disgust from the back of her throat, "Boohoo. Give me his number."

"Excuse me?"

"I wanna talk to him," she said.

I shook my head even though she could not see, "That's unnecessary," I told Mom, "You know what? I gotta go. I love you."

"Way to avoid a conversation, Gia," she sighed, "go ahead. I love you too."

I reached for the phone and ended the call. Even though I'd been avoiding Keenan, his existence lingered. There wasn't a day in the week where he did not cross my mind. There was not an hour in a day that his name didn't flash behind my eyes. With that buildup, my nerves were on edge for the rest of the car ride. When David came into view and opened the gates for me, I was feverish. When I pulled up in the driveway and parked behind Sophia's orange car, I could feel the insistent beating of my heart seeming like it wanted to drown me with blood from the inside-out.