Part Two
I walked up to the house that Miguel and I rented.
"Hi, baby!" he pulled me in his arms and gave me a hug. "How's the view here?"
"Beautiful."
"Hungry?"
"Very." I said nodding. My eyes wide and my tongue hanging out.
"Okay," he said laughing at my face. "Get change. We're going out."
I nodded and went to get change.
I looked out of the big window while getting change. I just loved the ocean. So did Miguel. So did Nick.
No, I must forget him.
I once asked Miguel why he was so nice to me. He didn't know me or anything. There's a reason to everything, so had he.
"I hurt a girl once," he told me one night. "I cheated with her best friend. She died the next day. It was after that when I realize how much I loved her. I was mad at myself for hurting her. I hate the last words I said to her. I promise myself that I will be nice to girls in the future, especially those who are hurt. I can see you were hurt..."
Well, that's part of what he'd told me.
I pulled out a pair of jeans and top just when Miguel poked his head in.
"Hey, nosy-body!" I yelled.
"Put on something fancy," he said sticking out his tongue at me. "And I'm not at all sorry for catching you changing."
"First, Miguel, you know I hate fancy dressing. Two, butt out or I'll kick you out."
"As if!" he cried and dashed down the corridor. Then I heard him running back. "Anyway, you surely won't miss out wearing this gorgeous gown." He added sticking in the most gorgeous evening gown, and hurried away again.
I sighed. Miguel could be so serious sometimes, just like Kevin. And sometime immature the other times, just like Ni-- like Brian.
The dress was gorgeous, alright. It was deep blue, made of soft fabric. Slim at the top, low-cut, flaring down like any old gown. Trust Miguel to choose something outrageous.
I quickly put it on, did my hair, and skipped the make-up. I hated make-up, it's like dabbing cake mix on your face.
"Looking good, baby," Miguel whistled as I came down the grand stairs. I shot him an evil glare. I hated compliments. They made me feel hopeless.
Ignoring my glare, he gave me a kiss. It was sweet.
"Aren't you going to say something about me?" he looked at me with puppy eyes.
"Sure. You look terrible, I have to say, straight from the bottom of my heart." I replied.
"Oh!" he cried dramatically. "I'm so hurt." And collapsed onto the floor.
I helped him up. "Come on, mister! We've gotta go! Don't wanna be late!"
"Late for what?"
"I don't know," I answered with a shrug.
Back
to I'll Manage Index
Back
to Our Stories