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For the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling with the notion that I might like him romantically. But his attachment to Marrisa has blocked that out of my mind completely.
Another aspect is I’ve read so many wrong situations in my past.
For a while, I’ve held in my feelings for León. It led me to believe in my mind that he liked me back. It was the optimist in me, but now I’m overthinking everything Xavier has done.
Some people are inherently flirty with the people they are comfortable with.
Xavier might be one of those people.
I don’t want to be put in the same situation that I was in with León. That’s why for weeks I’ve been covering up his actions with the mere thought that they are friendly. As if I didn’t crave Xavier’s lips on mine.
I’m fighting a battle internally.
One of fear and the other of desire.
Is this another unrequited crush?
Or is it simply a fucked-up situation where two individuals can’t get the courage to choose themselves despite our circumstances?
Those questions keep brewing in my mind the more I think in the silence of my desolate hotel room.
Screw it.
I get off my bed abruptly and throw on the sandals I have lying around.
The next thing I know, I am in the hallway, walking toward Xavier’s room.
What’s the point of sitting on my bed with all these questions when I can just ask Xavier?
So I knock on his door.
Not as silently as I would want to, but desperation takes over.
I hear scrambling in the room, I wait for what feels like hours.
Regret is already bubbling in my gut.
Maybe I should just walk away.
The door flies open, then I’m met with a shirtless, disheveled Xavier. His brown hair is moving in different directions as if it has been pulled.
“Vio,” he says, out of breath.
Having been distracted by his body, I look him in the face. He has lipstick stains all over his beautiful features. Looking behind him, my gaze travels to the floor. A bra is thrown on the floor along with multiple articles of clothing. My eyes then move up to be met with Marrisa, covering the top of her body with a white bed comforter.
Of course.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, looking at me awkwardly.
My dread turns into tears that threaten to leave my eyes.
How did I not realize this sooner?
I hadn’t seen him after our conversation at the venue. He must’ve left with his girlfriend to get it on. That’s what any healthy relationship would entail.
And of course, my timing is just perfect to witness Xavier out of breath with Marrisa in his bed.
My brain is malfunctioning once his words take me out of shock.
