I stop for a moment and look at the traffic light that changes from green to red, and the light from the pedestrian crossing indicates that I can cross the street. I take a deep breath of air and release it very slowly. In the midst of my passionate outburst, I did not realize that I got off the subway two stations before my destination and therefore I have to walk a few more blocks, and no thanks. In heels I wouldn't even get to the corner. Not without first having caused a sprain. So I decide to take a taxi, to be able to get there quickly. I raise my arm and stop a yellow car that charges me twenty dollars to take me to the place where I was supposed to be two hours ago. Twenty dollars for a ride of just eight minutes? Not because of the distance, but because of the traffic. Anyway, I give it over like someone who is buying a pair of wings. The important thing is to arrive before the graduation ceremony ends.
During the short journey I can't help but feel bad for having gotten carried away, instead of running out of that subway station and rushing to get to Henry, but the idiotic smile that is reflected on my face when I remember how spectacular it was. being with an adonis like Daniel clears any hint of guilt from my mind. It’s not every day you have the luxury to be with someone like that. In the same way, at times, the thought that I am the worst sister in the world does not stop eating at me.
The high school auditorium is large, and packed with people, so I have to make a great effort to find my mother and little brother in the middle of that sea of faces. As I do so, I can't stop thinking about Daniel, and the way he touches me, kisses me and… Oh my! Just the memory makes me feel like a thousand. I feel a bit confused and at times I get to contemplate the idea that I have imagined everything, because this type of thing does not usually happen to me. I am aware that I am the opposite of what men seek.
I'm a mess from head to toe! Although good, this day I am disguised as a decent person. Maybe that's what caught his attention about me, that I don't look like a twelve-year-old fresh out of a Comic Con.
Let's be clear. I'm not the type of woman who is addicted to fashion, makeup, expensive accessories, or even an enemy of spending long hours at the salon only to end up looking like a cheap copy of a Kardashian. I'm clueless, forgetful, and very flamboyant when it comes to dressing, I wear T-shirts with comic book superhero logos, gaudy colored leggings, and sneakers. I have a collection of converse of all colors in my closet, plus Vans and Sk8-Hi. Most of my pants are ripped at the knees, or badly worn. I hardly ever comb my hair, I prefer to wear hats or wool caps. I don't usually make up. I just use a moisturizing base on my face with sunscreen to take care of my skin. Yes. My mother taught me since I was little to take care of my integumentary system. Having perfect skin is an essential requirement in my mother's culture. I am slim, due to sheer genetics, because I don't exercise. I don't even like physical activity a little bit. Every now and then I like to break the rules and fill up on junk food, even though I have to put up with my mother's sermons afterward.
Henry on more than one occasion encouraged me to come out, since according to him, I meet all the requirements of a potential lesbian. And boy is he not judgmental! However, he cannot help but realize that I have never had a formal boyfriend, although he knows perfectly well that I am not a virgin, because I confessed it to him once I came home drunk. I think his doubts increased due to the fact that my best friend from high school, Cynthia, and with whom I have a beautiful friendship despite four years having passed since we graduated from high school, came out of the closet, declaring herself openly homosexual.
I am not a lesbian. Although I must confess that there are times when I feel a bit bisexual, especially when it comes to Helena Bonham Carter. But let's say that the reason I haven't been in a long-term relationship with a man is because I haven't met the love of my life. I think I have the innate gift of noticing the least suitable boys. Lara says I am addicted to suicidal relationships. To date, I don't understand what that means. Nor have I wanted to find out.
I don't have any emotional trauma, I was not bullied at school or anything like that, it's just that I have a little trouble relating to people of the opposite sex. I am shy, although avid connoisseur of sexual subjects. Cynthia and Lara have updated me. Also, in the last years of my life I have been so focused on keeping the family business flourishing that a romance or love affair with someone is not among my priorities. Love and passion for painting are on my list of important things. It is my refuge when I need to get away from it all. It is not traitorous or ungrateful, but on the contrary. I am happy among colors, oils, canvases and easels. I dream of the day my paintings are exhibited in a prestigious gallery, preferably The Bushwick Collective in New York. I have always liked aiming high.
“Hello Eun-Yeong,” my brother's voice makes me wince. He is the only being in the world who has called me by my middle name, since he was a two-year-old boy, because it was difficult for him to pronounce the letter r, so he avoided calling me Harper. “I think you were late,” he says sarcastically.
“Henry!” I exclaim and throw myself into his arms. “I'm so sorry. I tried to get there, but there was a mishap in the subway and also my cell phone…” I take it out of my pocket and show it to him.
“What the hell happened to your phone?” He opens his eyes. I know he is surprised to see the device smashed.
“It's a very long story,” I indicate with a rueful grin.
“Well, it's not like you've missed much either.”
“How long ago did it end?” I can't help but feel a lot of remorse for having let myself be carried away by my lower instincts, instead of being next to my brother on his special day.
“It must have been an hour or so,” he mutters.
“I wouldn't have come anyway,” the little voice in my head tries to convince me that I'm not the worst sister in the world.
“I promise to make it up to you,” I say. “I will take you to eat in that place that you like so much and...”
“Whatever,” he cuts me off. “I'll be outside,” he whispers with a hint of anguish in his voice. “Mom is over there,” he points with his index finger,” with Chris's parents. They are throwing a party for the two of them and I really am sick of everything. I just want to go away and forget that I ever came to this shitty high school.”
“Oh, come on! I don't think it was that bad.” I put a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you kidding?” He opens his eyes in an exaggerated way, horrified. “It was a fucking nightmare. The most horrible four years of my life.”
My poor little brother shrugs his shoulders and fixes his gaze on a distant point. I know he's looking back on the past few months. He's been through hell since Katie, the girl he's pined for since ninth grade, found out she liked him. Inadvertently, she found out when his best friend, Christopher, commented out loud over lunch. The girl passed by just at the time that Chris told Henry that he should dare to tell Katie Jones that he loved her. The girl's face was a poem and from then on she tried to avoid Henry, anyway. Coupled with all this, she had to cope with the sudden bodily changes of puberty. He was suffering from terrible acne, which prevented him from living fully like any other teenager, since looking in the mirror represented a terrible psychological torture. All this I know, because he told me himself a couple of weeks ago with tears in his eyes, during one of our many nights of Netflix and popcorn.
Having to see the one who caused his wet dreams, so radiant, in that blue dress she's wearing, accompanied by her whole family, only increases his anxiety about running out of the room.
He wants to close that chapter once and for all, and forget about the way that evil girl made fun of his feelings. He longs to get into his bed and not get out of it, unless the planet is under alien or nuclear threat.
I know, I can see it in his sad eyes.
It breaks my heart to see my little monster so dejected, and although I want to hug him again, I don't. He is not the type of guy to give or receive affection in public.
“I'll go talk to Mom. Wait for us outside,” I say and wink at him. Henry smiles ruefully. “Go start Mom's car.”
“But I don't have the keys,” he babbles.
“Let me ask for them for you,” I wink at him again.
Henry nods his head and walks away as fast as he can.
I am willing to look for my mother to fulfill my brother's wish. I know perfectly well how much my mother likes to celebrate. She always finds a perfect excuse to have a dinner, a barbecue, a meeting, a party, a treat and everything else.
Youra Lin Sang is my mother. She came to the United States as an eight-year-old girl. She is the daughter of Korean immigrants who came to the United States, fleeing the war and who managed to settle in the country after the asylum law was established. for immigrants from conflict zones. At the age of nineteen, she met my father, Abraham Hadwin, an American. Over time, my grandfather, with hard work, bought a gas station, which for many years provided us with sustenance. When she died, she passed it on to my dad.
My parents got married after seven months of dating. From that marriage, three children were born: I, who am the oldest, followed by Helen, who sadly passed away when she was ten years old, due to a congenital heart disease, and Henry, who is the youngest. However, two years ago, my father was killed by an assailant who shot him at close range to steal two hundred dollars from the cash register.
I shake my head hard to get those sad memories out of my mind and clear my throat, making myself noticed.
“Oh! Sweetie! You arrived!” My mother says, very excited. She comes over to me and hugs me.
“Yes, mother. I had a mishap in the subway and...”
“I heard there was a breakdown in the system," says Mrs. Gilmore, Chris's mother.
“That's right, Mrs. Crystal,” I wink, because the truth is that I don't like the mother of my brother's best friend, since she tends to meddle in matters that don't belong to her. Besides, she's a very mean person, despite beating her chest every Sunday in church.
“Nice to see you, Harper,” says Mr. Frank. Christopher's father is the antithesis of his wife. He is friendly, helpful and very docile. I don't understand how the hell he's still married to the Medusa of his wife. “I recorded Henry receiving his diploma,” he continues. “When we get home I d******d it to the computer and send it to your email.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Gilmore,” I reply, giving him a gentle smile. “Mother” I look at my mother “Henry is waiting for us outside. He doesn't feel good.”
“What's wrong with him?” My mother is concerned.
“He said he was feeling dizzy,” I lie. It's the only way for my mother to stop making party plans with complicated Crystal theme and we end up getting the hell out of it.
“Oh! Poor,” Chris’s mom mutters. “It must be all the stress of graduation, thinking about what his years to come in college will be like…” She puts a hand on my mom's shoulder. “You should give him some vitamins. I give them to Chris to keep him from feeling overwhelmed. Also, since he began training with the state basketball team, his health has improved a lot. It's a shame Henry doesn't like sports.” I can see a certain malice in her words. For her, only her son is praiseworthy
“Yes, too bad,” I reply scathingly and pretend to be dejected. “He is more interested in computing, programming, creating software... he may not end up playing for the NBA, but one day, perhaps, he will create an application for Android or Apple, valued at millions of dollars.”
A smirk appears on Mr. Frank's lips.
“Sweetheart,” my mother's voice has a warning tone. She knows that I have a blade instead of a tongue and that sometimes I don't say my words. “We'd better get going.” I wink at her to appease her. “I'll call you in the evening to agree and do something on Sunday, in honor of the kids,” he says, turning to Crystal.
“Okay,” the woman agrees.
“See you later, Mr. Frank,” I speak clearly. “Goodbye, Mrs. Gilmore,” I say through my teeth. I can try to be diplomatic, but I am never a hypocrite.
My mother and I walked away among the crowd of young people who were preparing to take photos with their family, friends and teachers.
“Remind me why you are still friends with that lady," I ask her to know.
“Because she's the mother of your brother's best friend and...”
“What a friend Chris turned out to be!” I murmur when I see the named in the company of certain boys who I know do not appreciate Henry.
“Why do you say that?" Mom doesn't understand my comment.
“No reason, mother,” I reply. I don't feel like explaining that for months I've noticed a certain estrangement between Chris and my little brother.
Once outside, we spotted Henry. He's leaning against the car, across the street. My little monster has his eyes fixed on the ground and looks very discouraged. My heart wrinkles to see him like this. I know he is going through a difficult time in his life. I understand.
After all, I was also a teenager.
Lash out after lash out. I charge mercilessly over and over again, while in my mind I keep replaying the memory of what happened an hour before. Thinking about the softness, the warmth, the humidity, and the moans of that woman, makes it possible for me to dispense with the help of Clementine. Imagining that it is Harper who I fuck vehemently, makes me very happy. Leah moans and writhes with pleasure under me as I penetrate her from behind.“Yes, like this. I love feeling your cock really deep.” the blonde gasps.Oh my! How I like to be talked to dirty, but coming from who it comes from, it kills the mood on the spot. I have to make a superhuman effort to focus on my erection.“The ten thousand dollars are worth it,”I repeat to myself once more. “Closer and closer to achieving it,”I reiterate my personal mantra.“So?” I hiss, as I continue to thrust hard. “You're so tight.” My jaw tig
I squint and look at my brother as I scoop some of my chicken noodles to my mouth. I don't like seeing Henry in this state, who despite having in front of him a plate full of ravioli stuffed with meat, his favorite dish, he does not stop moving his fork and turning his food, without even taking a little mouthful. He takes a deep breath and lets out a sharp sigh.“Okay,”I mumble. “You're going to tell me, right now, what the hell is wrong with you?” I cast a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen, where our mother is. We've ordered take-out at Henry's favorite restaurant, but anyway, my mother can't sit still until the kitchen is sparkling clean.“Nothing. I'm fine,” my brother muttered, not bothering to look up at me.“You're not fine or anything like that. I could tell in the way you looked at Chris when you left the auditorium, I also noticed the way he looked at you. Something happens between you. I saw hi
I runmy hand through my hair once more, tousling it and then rearranging it. I take a deep breath and blow it out. I look at my phone again and I debate whether or not to do what I have in mind.I slide my finger across the screen, looking for the number that belongs to the contact named Little Monster. I tap on the call icon, but hang up before the call even connects.“What the hell am I doing?”I mutter and put my cell phone aside, placing it on the table, next to the plate where the pheasant that I just prepared for dinner is screaming for me to eat it.I take a deep breath and get ready to enjoy the vegetables gratin with cream of milk that accompany the good piece of protein.I eat three bites of my food and raise the glass of wine to my lips to sip and taste the delicious chardonnay that I use for white meat pairing. I look around and notice the neat my house decoration. The furniture is modern, in black, gray and white colors
The alarm clock goes off at seven o'clock in the morning, emitting that horrible beep that Harper hates so much. She stretches out her hand and with one blow silences the demon's apparatus. She shuffles between the sheets and grunts. Fuck! Why did you say yes?Is it that that man does not sleeping? Who in their right mind goes jogging on a Saturday morning?“Actually; thousands of people in the world, so get out of bed, lazy.” The little voice of her conscience snaps at her.She grunts again when she manages to sit up on the bed.Fridays and Saturdays are her days off, because from Sunday to Thursday she works tirelessly at the her father’s gas station that, her, Henry and her mother inherited.In the last few months, things have been very hard, and they no longer have the same income as before, so she must manage to work shifts at night and do without another employee, for a job that she can very well do herself.Her mothe
I glance at him once more, as the car keeps moving. We have not been able to articulate even half a word since we left the restaurant. The man next to me is the personification of an angel, but with a certain diabolical aura. What inspires me is not sacred at all.Unable to avoid it, I am overwhelmed by the heap of sensations that run through me from head to toe.I look at him sideways, not daring to say anything. I do not know what to talk about. This man intimidates me greatly. I notice him wince when a tune starts to play on the radio. He stretches out his hand and I see that his intention is to change the station.“Leave it,”I ask, recognizing ‘There's Nothing Holdin’ Me Back’by Shawn Mendes. “I love that song,” I confess.“Are you serious?” He frowns and looks at me like I've grown another head.“Yes,”I nod my head. “What's wrong with him? Shawn's music i
I smile wide when I watch her walk away. I know she's running away. She evades me because she is unable to cope with all the things that I make her feel. Although… I also feel very intense things for her, and I can't understand why she is so fascinated. I have seen many women like her in my life. And no, it's not because she was reluctant to agree to go on a date with me. No, it is not my wounded ego that speaks. It's something more.I can't help but remember every second with her, once she's been away from me. What I felt when I saw her arrive at the observatory was very intense, the way she makes me smile with a simple comment… She has an impressive power over me! These uncontrollable desire to hug her, kiss her, look at her...I never felt them with someone else. At least not in this… recalcitrant way.What has this woman got? I question it, while I lose myself in my musings.Her funny way of singing, infected me with a strange magic
I read the message one more time. I think it's the tenth time I've done it and I can't help the idiotic smirk on my lips. Oh my! Daniel just sent me a text message, specifying where he lives. He is either very crazy or very desperate. I do not think it is the second option, because with the physique that he has, I doubt that it will be difficult for him to get a date. So what the hell is wrong with him? Do I seem like a kind of personal challenge to him?“Wow! I think the last time I saw you smile like that, was when Loki made a surprise appearance in Room H at Comic Con 2013,” Lara says.“This is better than fucking Loki at fucking Comic Con,”I whisper, still staring at my cell phone screen.“Oh, my God!” Lara exclaims. “It must be something, or rather someone very good, for you to say such a thing.”I grin mischievously and shrug.“What did you do this time, you little rascal?”&nbs
I think back to what I did this afternoon, and I wonder if maybe it's a complete nonsense. As soon as I pressed the key to send the message, I felt something very close to regret and was tempted to send another message backtracking, saying that something unexpected had come up. However, something deep inside me told me not to do it, to let things flow...that I should let this woman get deep inside of me...A high-pitched sound made me jump. It's the oven alarm, telling me that the salmon is ready. It took me a long time to decide what to cook, since I don't know what Harper's tastes are, even though I suspect that she is neither vegan nor vegetarian. Remembering the way she delighted in eating her bacon this morning made that clear to me. In addition, fish is a good option for dinner, accompanied by a delicious white wine and a pleasant chat.Strange as it may seem, I don't think of this woman as a hot body with which I can satisfy my male needs, but as an intere