Chapter 4

Alone

16 years ago

January 2013

Months have passed and the year was new, but I had never felt more hopeful than before. To say that my poem really made an impact with the student body was an understatement. When the poem was published, everybody knew my name. They told me that it seems incredible how a freshman can come up with a poem like that. Sure, it wasn't perfect but it really connected to the masses.

On top of it all, Luke Sawyer, a senior and an editor-in-chief encouraged me to try out for the student paper. He told me that he's sure I'll get in but just needs me to write for formality. When I wrote, I gave it my all. I was able to write a news, editorial, and feature story all in three hours and Luke was so impressed.

As one of the campus journalists, I've earned respect from my fellow students. I may not be rich like them but I had so much more to give. They knew me as the future journalist with the talent for poetry. It felt so amazing. I felt like floating in a cloud.

And because I was a true best friend, I kept my promise to Mia. I made up this stupid excuse that I needed an assistant during meetings and so Mia just became one of us. Although she's not a writer, she acted as though she's interested when we discuss but in truth, the one she's interested in was Ethan.

Mia's cute whenever she tried to get his attention. Ethan acted nonchalant and seemed like he doesn't care about her. However, there were times that I caught him staring at her. I just wasn't sure if it's because he liked her or he's annoyed with her.

I still spent my afternoons in Mia's house but for the past few weeks, we've talked less since she's always on her phone texting Ethan. I did my homework while she frowned.

"Ana, why is he being like this? Ethan has a lot to talk about when we text but in person, he seems mute."

"Maybe you make him nervous?" I suggested.

"He doesn't have a reason to be nervous unless- "Mia's eyes lit up "-he likes me too!"

Before we knew it, it's 5 p.m. and I had to go home. Mia was too caught up texting Ethan and I also assured her that I'm fine going home on my own like I've did for the past couple of months. Well, I was really not going home alone though.

Ever since the first time he gave me a ride home, it became my routine with Christian. I stepped inside his Aston Martin and we talked as if the world didn't exist outside. We ended up knowing each other more. We talked about poetry and he listened to all of the prompts I wanted to write. Sometimes he gave me a scenario or an object and I'll try to come up with a poem about it. He seemed really interested in my writing and I was grateful for that.

I also learned that he liked music even though he didn't know how to sing and failed miserably at playing the guitar and piano. I encouraged him to try again but he said he's perfectly fine listening and enjoying the songs he liked.

"Do you feel like eating?"

"Yes! I'm so hungry," I told him without any inhibitions.

"Your stomach's been screaming," he teased and I frowned.

"No, it hasn't!"

He laughed to himself again and muttered, "You're so cute when you that."

I didn't say anything. We've been hanging out for awhile and there had been so many times when I thought he had a crush on me, but I was quick to shrug those thoughts off my head. I mean, Christian Grey? The ultimate player? Having a crush on me? That's never going to happen. Last week, Trudy, one of the prettiest senior girls cried in the middle of the school football field because Christian "broke up" with her. She cried harder when Christian told everyone that they just made out but they're not even together.

I didn't confront Christian about it because he'll simply say that I was jealous. I'd rather he thought that I don't care.

Christian parked his car on the side and we ambled our way towards a food cart. He ordered quesadillas.

I really liked this about him. He didn't make me feel like his parents were so damn wealthy. He liked to eat street foods and he was very kind with the vendor too. It warmed my heart seeing him interact with the vendor.

"Whoa! What a glow up there, Ramil! When did you grow that moustache, huh?"

The vendor, I guessed his name was Ramil, answered, "Christian, hijo! Nice to see you here. I met this woman and I wanna look suave for her."

"Oh, really, huh? You've got game, Ramil. Stay slick, bro."

He handed as our food and I bet if there weren't any other customers lining up behind us, they would probably talk longer.

"You're on first name basis? And you two are close?" I asked in amazement as he handed me my quesadilla.

"You kidding me? I've been his customer since I was four so how can I not know his name?" He smiled at me and I can't help but smile back. This guy's really full of surprises.

We sat right next to each other on a bench while we ate our food.

"You're really surprising me, Christian. You're a crazy rich sixteen-year-old residing in New York City and you have been eating quesadillas in the streets ever since you're a kid?"

He corrected, "My parents are rich, not me."

"Right," I conceded.

He gives me that teasing smile again, "It amazes me too, Ana. We've been hanging out for five months but you still won't admit that you have a crush on me."

I rolled my eyes, "Here you again."

He laughed at me again and said, "I just like it when you blush."

Whenever he said something like that, I quickly changed the subject. It gave me that weird feeling beneath my chest that I didn't want to acknowledge at all. I cleared my throat and asked, "How come you've eaten here before?"

Christian's facial expression changed at that. He turned serious when he said, "I had the best nanny in the world named Gail. Boy, she was so fun to play race cars with and she introduced me to music. We would have the best times of our lives eating quesadillas here."

Those memories seemed so happy but he sounded as if he's so sad thinking about it all.

"Where's she now?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he shrugged. I felt the heavy weight in his voice when he told me, "Grace found out about our street food escapades and had her fired. I was 10."

My brows furrowed at that and my mouth opened. I knew his mother was not the kindest but how can she do that?

I must have said it out loud because Christian answered, "Oh, she can do whatever she wants, alright. She told Gail that we should never go out of the house. However, I insisted that we ate quesadillas that day. Grace went home and panicked when we weren't there. She almost charged Gail with kidnapping. I pleaded, I knelt, I . . . I threatened to leave." His voice faded and his eyes looked into blank space. It was as if he's having a flashback.

"Mom just fired her thankfully. But you could say, I was so lonely. I cried for days." He tried to laugh but the cracks in his voice show that he's failing to be his goofy playful self.

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know," he answered with a sad smile.

I was not used to seeing him this way. I got used to him always joking around and making fun of me. Seeing this side of him put an ache in me. I couldn't even bring myself to smile.

I felt worse when he continued to share, "After Gail left, there was no one talk to. Mom and Dad aren't always around. My older brother's too focused on inheriting the business. Yes, Mia's there but it's just not the same."

I don't know why I did it but my hand seemed to have a mind of its own. It reached out to his. My hand held his softly. It was my way of telling him that I'm here and it's okay. He stared at both of our hands before he aligned our fingers together. In slow motion, his fingers filled the spaces between mine. I found myself holding his hand tightly too.

I expected him to pull of a playful comment or to tease me, but he remained serious.

He looked deeply into my eyes when said, "We're in New York- life is so loud and it seems to be unstoppable. But 'the city never told me that in a sea of people, I'd still feel alone'". He quoted the last line in my poem and now I finally understood why he asked to keep it.

My eyes looked at him glimmering at its loneliest while he mirrored the same way I gazed.

"Now, tell me about your family," he cleared his throat and tried to lighten the mood.

"Alright, I'll tell you about them."

I told him that it's just the four of us: my father, mother, and little sister. My mother, Karla never finished high school since they were so poor. When she was 22, she earned her GED. My father, Ray has been her friend since childhood and he always encouraged her to pursue education even when she can't. After Mom got her GED, they got married and had me. Dad worked at St. Croix and he seemed so serious but at home, he's pretty funny and happy.

Christian found that difficult to believe in. He raised his brow at all of that. I simply ignored his statements about my dad being so serious.

I continued telling him about my family. My sister, Ella is a sweet seven-year-old and the most precious thing in the world.

We finished our quesadillas but never our conversation. We both laughed and teased each other. I listened intently to him and he did the same. Throughout every single topic we talked about, his hand never let go of mine and neither did I. His thumb softly and affectionately graze the back of my hand and I became breathless when he lifted our interlocking hands and pressed a soft kiss against my knuckles.

Right in that moment, I knew that I was doomed.

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Thank you - Cloud