It has been days ever since that ill-fated day that literally ruined my dignity. Silence became the barrier between the two of us at The Espresso. We never looked at each other’s eyes, we did not utter each other’s names, we never talked anything at all. Apart from the sparingly occasional work-related talks being passed on from member to member, we shared nothing else, as if there was a wall in between. It became apparent to me that that dream was never anything but that. I could still remember how everything played out no matter how many times I tried to bang my head against the wall, trying to induce some head-related traumatic amnesia, just like how the movie goes.

I remember I was sitting on the floor of the hotel room Kaizer rented for that night, my foot close to a broken pair of glasses, my hands holding tightly to the black trousers that I wore yesterday, my eyes still in a state of shock and disbelief as Kaizer was kneeling beside the bed, the sheets covering his knees, his hand holding on to his buttocks, small as it is. He was shaking profusely as he clearly remembered every single thrust that I made inside him. He looked at me with utter confusion.

Words our mouths produced are more incoherent than ever. Even I couldn’t believe anything we did something like that. What I thought was a fabric of dreamland became a horrible reality for both of us. I was taken aback when Kaizer breathed in and out calmly before using the bed sheets to wipe the juices I forcefully shoved in him deep inside. I could feel how weak he got as he tried to stretch his hole to let it all out. He looked at me, his eyes asking me for help, and I could feel my body move on its own, slowly creeping toward him and going for his throbbing hole. I had him kneel before I put two fingers inside him, slowly opening it nice and wide as we let the rest of the man milk flow out of him. To my surprise, I could feel the pleasure that he was experiencing right now, visible to his now-hard rod. I could not express what I wanted to feel, as everything didn’t make sense. What, he just liked what we did? Or his girls are into pegging and it’s his first time doing it with the real deal? I am honestly curious about how his mind is functioning right now. Either way, I could not look at him any longer as he looked away from me with now-red cheeks. It was then I remembered what Amadeo told me last night. Flashbacks of his trying to eat me alive roared by to my head like a VHS tape playing over and over again.

Kaizer moans your name every time we do the deed. It was clear as glass.

I stopped rummaging on his hole and proceeded to slowly walk away with caution from the tainted bed to the nearby shower. He was saying something along his breath, but I was already far away from the bed, and I could not care to have him repeat what he had said. I turned on the faucet, and warm water fell on my body.

Thoughts loomed over my head as I bashed it towards the wall. Just what did I get myself into this time? Heck, I am already used to this kind of thing, courtesy to my horny nature, but my, oh my, Arthur Reyes Seymour—could you lock that stick of yours and not flash it to some random guys? Do I look like some sex-deprived pervert? Think, motherfucker, think! I then breathed slowly as a turtle as I tried to calm myself down.

I stayed there for a good solid 15 minutes before going out with my bathrobe. There, I saw Kaizer compiling his things. I gestured for him to take his bath. I could not afford to look him in the eye. As the shower room engulfed the madman into oblivion, I proceeded to take a look at my surroundings: It was a creamy-white room, and there was a sliding window on the side. Beside the double-sized white bed I’m sitting on, there’s a lampshade on the right that stands under a small wooden drawer. I scanned the said drawer, and to my surprise, there were tons of ripped-off condom wrappers and a clumsily closed lube that dripped out of the drawer. Now that I saw that, I could also see the tons of ripped condoms on the floor and the bed. Just how wild were we last night? I could not afford to think about it, as the very frame of that memory shuddered me, goosebumps visible to my skin.

I saw my phone beside what I assumed to be Kaizer’s, close to draining the battery to nil. I opened it and there a ton of chats from Gale appeared. I went pale. I totally forgot that I was on a date with Gale! I quickly opened Portfolio and saw his messages rapidly appearing like wildfire.  

ARTTTTTTTTTTTT T.T

WER R UUUUUUU

I TRIED CONTACITNG UR # BUT UR NOT RESPODNING T.T

I SAW YOU DRUNK WHEN I TOOK THE STAGE, AND SOME RANDOM GUY W A HOODIE TOOK U

T.T T.T T.T T.T

I am currently typing that I’m fine, and that random guy with a hoodie took me home, but a sharp pain in my chest told me I wasn’t a good liar, especially now that this random guy Gale’s talking about had his hole shredded like crazy. Still, fingers crossed, I messaged him just that. As though on cue, my phone went haywire as a call from Aunt Carla rang with such loud noise that it almost wrecked my ears.

As expected, Aunt Carla bickered like an attorney on the move, trying to cross-examine the defendant for any inconsistencies with their words. Even I would do the same in her position, especially since there are only like 2 hours left before my class. With the blessing of the fastest coyote alive, I quickly shoved my trousers, briefs, and dress before rushing out to the hotel room, my ear still on the phone. I dare not to look at Kaizer and tell him I left; he’d understand. Wait, why do I care if he’d understand?

I took a quick look at the built-in map system in my phone and found out I was only a few blocks away from Aunt Carla’s house. I pulled out a random taxi that was innocently crashing by and told him my address. With my foot tapping mad crazy at the floor of the passenger seat, we sped up the street and stopped at the sight of the house. I bid adios to the driver and paid him four dollars before rushing inside to the sight of our aunt sitting on the couch in the living room, legs crossed and holding a cup of tea. I’d expected anything drastic, but not this, though. This is literally passive-aggressive of her.

I’d rather not talk about the events that happened afterward. What matters right now is that I am still alive and not kicking the bucket.

That I could summarize how everything got so awkward in The Espresso. Luke looked at me, trying to evaluate what was happening inside my brain full of broken clockwork. I looked at him, hopefully trying to convey that nothing was wrong and that he should focus on his work. I guess he hadn’t caught up to that, as he still looked at me with such questionability of my character. I broke the staring as meanwhile, I looked at the work area; I could see Sean trying to ask Kaizer if there was something wrong with his glasses that he decided to change into a new one. He just shrugged at the thought. Even an eighth of a brain would notice something’s off with the boss and one of his members. As Gale went outside and placed the ordered coffee at the counter, I caught up the smell of the aroma the cappuccino released. It was warm and calming and, yes, tempting to drink; unless I wanted to get myself in trouble, I would very much drink it without hesitation. I took those and slid right past many people and to customer number 28’s table, which is a young couple with a cute chihuahua with diapers in a grey baby stroller, sleeping. I smiled at the sight of them, but I controlled my intrusive thoughts of petting the cute beast. Just look how happy they are. Don’t they ever get tangled into some tight ropes like this I am (read: we’re) experiencing?

I went back to the counter to wait for new orders to come. Even though a week has passed, a number of journalists have been swarming the shop, but Kaizer does not intend to have an audience for now. That, and because he’s not a person actively trying to attain the luxurious limelight, which is so not Kaizer because of his grandiose personality to attract many people during our junior high school days. If someone knows Kaizer a little too well, look no further than the almighty Arthur Reyes Seymour.

Gale went outside and gracefully placed his head on the counter, resting on both of his elbows, looking at me with those guilty puppy eyes. It wasn’t about his guilt of leaving me drunk and letting me get into the arms of some random psychopath. It’s about my guilt of fucking someone behind him. I patted his head and smiled at him. It was faint as eigengrau slapped on a black background. He reached for my neck using the back of his hand and his other hand on his forehead; he was trying to check if I was sick today.

Don’t worry about me, my eyes gestured to him. The problem, though, is that it came across him as flirting as he told me, “Don’t give me that look; I’ll go insane if you tease me like that.” He smiled wryly.

“I wasn’t.”

“Your eyes tell me otherwise.” I mentally slapped my face as he assumed that.

I was about to say something when another order popped out, making Gale leave with distaste in his eyes. Kaizer, breaking what wall he had built for weeks, said, “Art, focus.” He then retreated back into the void, never to be seen again for a few sets of orders later. And just like that, we’re back with hurricane Kaizer.

It was a Wednesday today, now that I’ve realized it. Mrs. Hemmington cancelled her class for today due to her monthly check-up that she could not afford to not be on time. As much as I wanted to learn more in the Marketing program, her absence feels like a thorn removed from my throat, especially now that she hasn’t hired a TA to act on her behalf on many things; she believes that you are not a teacher if you let someone else do your job.  

She left us instead with a group assignment, and we were to find our groupmates on our own. It’s kinda sad that Roxie dropped her class since I intended to pull her into my group. I guess I should reach out to those who are in need of other people in their group to complete the stage. As much as I don’t want to be in a group that relies solely on one person, or on a group with a couch potato that only contributes a trip to the coffee shop, or in my locality, ramen, noodles, or pancit canton, whatever you call it, I don’t want to appear to be a picky bitch.

“I’d like to order two cups of americano, please. To go.”

I turned around to see Roxie in front of Luke, holding a shiny silver purse and adorning herself with myriads of luxury items on her neck and wrists. Speaking of the devil that I literally just thought of seconds ago.

“Roxie!” I strode toward her, jittery in excitement. She opened her arms, catching me in a hug. “Bitch, I miss you so much!”

“Geez, Arthur, I know you’re clingy as fuck, but not this clingy.” She grinned as I put on a mock pout.

“That’ll be eight and a half dollars, ma’am,” Luke said as he deadpanned across our overly enthusiastic mini-reunion. I broke from the hug, and Roxie dug something in her purse, only for it to produce a black luxury credit card—or debit, I don’t know; the card’s too personalized to tell.

“I’d like to pay with this, please.” She placed the said card on the counter, where Luke slid past right the ATM reader before punching buttons on the cash counter. The moment he gave the card to her, a receipt started to sprout out of the machine before Luke ripped it off midway and gave it to Roxie. The other half he left alone before it turned to a full stop before splitting it from the machine and into the record book solely dedicated to banks. He called for Gale to take Roxie’s order. Meanwhile, as apparent as he was, Kaizer was peeping out of the work area, only for Roxie to spot him.

She turned to me and pointed in Kaizer’s direction. “Is it just me, or did your boss become a submissive bitch overnight?” I also couldn’t help but look at the work area, only to see that Kaizer quickly turned his glimpse away, and I just shrugged. I looked at the time, and it was still three hours away from our next class.

“What do you mean submissive bitch?”

Roxie closed her distance to my ears. She whispered, “That kind of eyes long for like someone that had filled his hole up.” I was caught up to my surprise when she said those things without any filter that I had to quickly close her mouth shut with my hands. I could see some journalists taking notes of what they had heard, and some even took photographs of us. I eyed her, telling her that Bitch, those fucking reporters have some great sense of hearing. She caught up to that and fixed her dress before disgustingly removing my hand from her mouth. Stains of her bright red lipstick stuck in my hands, as though I had handfucked some girl in her mouth. But wait, what does she mean by someone that had filled his hole up? Also, why would I think of handfucking some woman in the mouth?

Drat, if only we could casually pull out a phone in this job, but as expected, my phone is in the locker room, along with my other things and my school attire. Not the best option for this situation. Instead, I whispered to her something. “Later in the afternoon, not now.” I gestured to the sight of the reporters outside, taking notes.

“Definitely going to hear more about that piping hot, freshly brewed tea, sis’.”

Gale emerged from the work area, holding two cups of americano in his latex-covered hands. He went to the counter and called for Roxie’s customer number to which she diligently replied to. Gale did seem surprised to see her, but he showed none of that to her lest he look unprofessional (it did feel like a stab in the heart). When she took the americanos, she extended one to me. I looked at her, befuddled.

“Nah; thank you, but I can’t.”

“No can do, bitch. That’s yours.” She was about to walk away into probably some fancy mall shopping spree when she turned towards me and winked. “Later at the garden, bitch. Don’t forget!”

I guess I was left with an unopened cup of americano and some nasty secrets to tell the bimbo.