Fourteen Days Of Waiting
Fourteen Days Of Waiting unrequited stories

hurricanewattpad user as @siriuslysarcastic
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago

Fourteen Days Of Waiting

by JoJo

February 1st

Quiet are the streets of LA.

None of the usual textured noises that I hear.

I close my eyes, wondering if I have ever sought to think about the upcoming day.

Valentine's Day.

It's the day that I have celebrated in here for a long time.

But not long enough to know that Valentine's Day is a day for shattering hearts into little pieces.

February 2nd

Michelle asks me about my date for Valentine's Day.

I want to cough at her slightly, to tell her that I'm never going to have a date.

Of course, I don't have one.

I lie.

White faced lies, she has never heard of.

Like a hungry badger, she dives into my lies, not knowing she is only swimming in the deep end -- and will never understand.

Maybe I know of someone who I like.

The elementary like-like.

Probably the kind of love that will never exist.

The kind of love that is so heartbreakingly believable, it stirs a mischievous concoction inside my heart.

I like staring into his picturesque eyes that are filled with hours of dreamy sunsets and waves crashing into my sand caked feet.

His laugh is like drinking up lemonade in the sunlight, only his tastes of bitter dark chocolate.

And then, he sends a smile my way that could make my racing heart beat Apollo in a chariot race.

My smile disappears when I realise it's meant for the girl behind me.

The girl behind me, well, her hair is meant for the Man on the Moon to use as a net to catch stars.

I guess that's the only reason why I can't desire the boy.

I have golden skin that illuminates only in the midnight air.

I have the hair of a beehive, tangled illustriously like the tapestry of Arachne.

And it belongs to Mexico, where I know my future lays.

February 3rd

Mother wants me to come back home.

Her raspy voice is lowered, misty like how I can imagine her grey eyes in dark.

She repeats my name again like it's a prayer from above.

I wish to feel the soft raindrops against my skin, rolling down to show the world my tears.

Is terrible to ask for a chance to stay here? To covet something that could kill people?

Escorted back there.

To there.

February 5th

The sun beats down against my skin as my breaths grow shallow.

The creaky stream taunts me, the crystal clear water trickling down.

Michelle sees my expression as the girl dashes to the boy eagerly.

Her smile is questioning, as if she's intending to break my walls.

Her hand brushes mine, like a butterfly settling on a lily pad.

Her comfort makes me feel at home, my toes squishing the earthy dirt that is plentiful of earthworms that swim around me.

Of course, it's unrealistic to imagine his hand against mine instead of hers.

I'm imagining things.

Like always.

February 7th

He approaches me after lunch.

I can't help but notice his expression, ever so gentle.

My heart gallops at his darting smile.

I'm tempted to run away.

Just looking at him folds a flat map of the earth into a origami crane.

I feel like I'm wrapped inside a little piece of heaven when he hugs me.

He's thanking me for accompanying him and his friends on the hike.

Along with Michelle, he adds, making my desperate heart sputter.

I forget that I'm also holding a mug of hot chocolate.

As he keeps me locked under his arms, the girl walks right straight into me.

With her perfume flowing off her, I think for a moment about how nice would it be to discover that her brains have sucked up the poisonous chemicals of the perfume.

But only seeing the chocolate stains of his shirt, I offer him to come with me so I can lend him an extra shirt.

He obliges, not seeing that anger radiating off the fuming girl.

February 10th

He returns the shirt to me.

Thanking me.

I want to tell him to keep it.

But it worries me even further, a supernova exploding within me with all the troubles I should mind.

It's a white tank top from the farm.

But he insists that he repays me by taking me out to Starbucks.

February 13th

It's almost Valentine's Day.

Only 24 hours away.

And that's when he'll take me away to Starbucks.

Michelle asks me later that day what is up with the strange expression on my face.

She thinks I'm having a heart attack.

If heart attack means my heart being attacked with mushy gushy elementary love, sure, I'll take that.

The girl's locker resides next to mine.

Hers is decorated in silly hearts and notes from secret admirers.

Mine is barren, only having just a birthday note from months ago from Michelle.

She examines her face in the mirror, applying cherry red lipstick to her blossom lips.

I want to mimic her puckered up lips, just to jest at her.

Suddenly, she turns around.

Her eyes flaring brightly, devoid of any telltale emotion that I can hunt for.

She calls me a proletariat, something I don't fancy as a name.

And tells me to stay away from him.

It's like she's trying to melt all the chocolate in a molten lava cake.

What she doesn't know is that I'm already melting into little pieces, the crust only being my only shield from prying eyes.

February 14th

The Starbucks date.

Michelle has been pestering me over it.

I stay silent, though.

Does he want such a girl? Weighed by a destiny that cannot be outrun?

I breath a sigh, my shoulders slumping.

I'm ready for Starbucks.

My hair is whipped into a ponytail.

I throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants.

But when I enter Starbucks, there's the boy I've waiting for fourteen days.

His hands are adjoined with her hands.

I've made up my mind.

"Parker," I say.

His head jerks up, momentarily caught off guard by the sight of me.

"Margarita," he stammers for a reason. "I wanted to say -"

I interrupt him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

The girl looks puzzled, wondering what's going on.

"For showing me that I don't need a boy to dictate me."

July 1st

"Are you on next train to Mexico City?"

I look at my ticket and smile.

I could throw my hands up in the air, just to feel my mother's embrace around me.

In this country, I have learned many things.

Life is a tapestry, woven in different threads of every choice we made.

Parker was just the hole in my tapestry that kept eating me up for fourteen days.

My family is the one who will be helping me knit a new world with a vibrance that cannot be competed with.


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