Teenage Dream

The Story of Us

I wake up alone in the bed. When I get to the kitchen, sure enough Dylan is already sitting at the counter with his bathrobe on while sipping his morning coffee, his laptop wide open in front of him. I can’t help but smile. Always the busy person. 

“Good morning, hon,” I give him a kiss on his cheek.

“Good morning,” he smiles, returning the kiss.

“What are you working on?” I ask as I fix myself a cup of coffee.

“There’s a mail from Clifford,” he replies. “Looks like he sent it last night. I couldn’t check it, of course, because… you know…”

Our eyes meet. And it’s immediately followed by embarrassed laughter from both of us. Seriously, this guy can sometimes be soooooo… I don’t know what to call it. Ridiculously cute.

“You were so good. Seconds?” I say knowing that he would be embarrassed beyond belief. And true enough, I look at him just in time when his ears have started to redden.

“Stop that. I know what you’re doing.”

The thing is that I woke up from a very bad case of bad mood. Normally, adults who wake up feeling like they want to murder something do so when they are having a hangover because of last night’s debauchery. But that wasn’t the case for me. I woke up with a bad temper because it was the opposite: I wasn’t hungover nor did I feel nauseous or just in any way unwell. I know, I know. I should be glad because hangovers are the absolute punishment for living the good life. But to me, I wear hangovers like a badge. You can’t say Aurora without saying wasted. The fact that on my first night back on my native land, I didn’t even get the chance to have as much as a single sip of alcohol hurts my party-goer pride. But now, all that urgency to paint the city red has dissipated upon seeing this ray of sunshine that is my fiancé.

We have cereals and pancakes for breakfast, and, of course, more coffee. Looks like old habits die hard. Morning rituals that we’ve picked up from staying in New York for so long hasn’t shown any signs of fading. 

“Clifford’s ranting about you in his e-mails,” Dylan starts.

He’s talking about our team leader who’s already aware that we are on leave, mind you. Don’t we have enough people to cover the workload while we are gone? We also made sure that we wouldn’t have projects left unfinished before we go so why’s he running his mouth again?

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, he’s always doing that lately. What’s it about this time?”

Although I might probably know what.

“It’s those wedding flyers and posters that’re due in three months. I don’t know but it sounds like he’s looking for… doves? I’m not really sure.”

I roll my eyes. I’ve always known that Clifford and I would never see eye to eye. But right now he’s not even trying to f*****g open them. “They are for our Japanese client. Of course I have to ditch the doves.”

Or maybe Clifford’s just an i***t. Now that would explain everything. 

“That’s what I told him,” he mutters under his breath. “Non-verbatim, of course.”

“I could’ve dealt with him myself, you know. Why didn’t you wake me when you read his message?” And why did he send it you, anyway?

He shakes his head. “You know I’m not that guy. And besides, it looked to me that you had a rough night. I woke up at dawn and heard you talking like you’re arguing with someone. What were you dreaming about?”

My mouth stops chewing. What did he hear?

“Did… Did I mention any name?”

He shakes his head. “You just kept asking why.” He looks at me, “why is that?”

I force a smile, shaking my head, “Maybe I’m a scientist in my dream getting frustrated over a simple equations going like, ‘why won’t this s**t doing its job?’ or something.”

This makes him chuckle. Thank goodness.

We carry on our morning routines like we’re still in our apartment in New York. Breakfast, doing dishes, cleaning ourselves, checking our laptops… it’s almost like we’re not on leave. Except now we’re working in the house and not in the office. My sleeptalking is not mentioned again. And for good reason, too.

Another reason why I was disappointed that I didn’t wake up from headache, nausea, and thirst is knowing that I didn’t dream it. Everything that I remember in my head did really happen. The open mic live, Starry Night, the conversation in the powder room, Rain So…

No.

Gabriela Elise.

I bite my lip as a strange feeling of nostalgia starts welling up in my chest.

For years, I have never let myself say her name even in my mind. For eight years, she’d been “that girl” to me. Now, hearing her name even in my thoughts overwhelms everything else I’ve been thinking.

I miss you, she wrote.

Was she playing a joke on me? Was she teasing me? Doesn’t she know--?

“…Au, are you listening?”

I’m pulled away from my thoughts when Dylan touches my hand.

“Sorry,” I say, my heart hammering hard, as if he has just caught me having an affair with someone. “I’m thinking about that wedding flyer.” 

I pause.

“Our wedding flyer,” I smile. “We should just get married this instant.”

He looks down and smile. Then he looks at me all serious, “Are you really sure about marrying me?”

“Are you doubting me now? After all we’ve been through? After all you and I have seen?” I don’t mean it to sound defensive but somehow, my tone betrays me. “I am sure… absolutely sure about my decision of marrying you, Dylan Jones.”

He nods. “Great. Then you probably should get dressed now. Remember, we have an appointment with our wedding planner this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

This is not good. I’m going to hate myself for this. I totally forgot about the wedding planner thing.

I want to tell him that I’ll skip this afternoon’s meeting because I’m not feeling well (which is true, by the way), but after he asked that question, I just can’t say no now. That’s right. I can’t say no. This is the right path for me to follow.

Still, I can’t stop myself from remembering.

As I am choosing my outfit for this afternoon, my mind wanders again. 

I don't know if you still remember, but during the previous night, Jackson mentioned things about "three years ago." And this is the beginning of those things--how they became years where I held the actuality of my life my fondest memory and how they became the taboo that nobody dared to mention up until now.

Well, nobody except Jack.

This is our story--Gabriela Elise and I.

Like all other stories, it started without me knowing that a story was starting. I had woken up that day anticipating nothing. I went to school expecting the same things to happen.

So, yeah. I woke got dressed for school. And by school, I mean high school. Of course, the story started in high school. Where else would you find so much drama and nonsense? Painful crushes, heartbreaking first loves, frustrating circle of peers... Yeah, don't worry. I went through those too.

With all my bustling around in my room, my little baby furball woke up with a silent yawn.

I sat on the bed where he and I were both sleeping and gently scratched his head, "I woke you up, didn't I? I'm so sorry, baby."

He purred contently.

After fixing myself, I fixed his breakfast and brought it back to my room upstairs. I couldn't let him absolute freedom in the house when I wasn't around to keep an eye on him. God knows what that despicable witch would do if ever he caught her in a bad mood.

After securing him with food and water, I picked up my guitar case.

"See you later, baby Red, " I pat him as he ate.

He answered with a soft meow.

I smiled and walked out of the room. Making sure that the door was tightly locked before heading out of the house.

Ever since Red came I've had stopped my prior hobby of house hopping. I had used to sleep in different houses at night when I felt like it. There had been nothing in that house for me to go back to. But now though, I now had one reason to return to that hell-hole.

The school I was attending was technically a private school. I say "technically" because it wasn't really what you'd expect for a private school. No air-conditioned classrooms, no tiled floors, and no individual LCD screens and projectors. It was just a row house with very simple objects inside it--objects you would normally see in a regular classroom: armchairs, blackboards, teacher's tables, and a single ceiling fan. So basically, it was just a regular school but had been registered as a private school because it wasn't run by the government.

I got there by jeep. When I paused to look at the gates, my band mates were already there, hanging out outside the nearby convenience store.

When they saw me getting close, their reactions were priceless: Jackson's jaw dropped low, Raymond's forehead wrinkled as he raised an eyebrow, Veronica also had her mouth open as she shook her head, and Johannes bit his lip while averting his eyes.

I smirked, already anticipating those.

"Au," Veronica started. "Why are you--"

"What on Earth are you thinking?!" It was Jackson.

"That today's a good day to piss off some nerds," I answered coolly.

"You've done that already," Raymond pointed out. "It's not wise to get yourself into trouble again."

I raised an eyebrow. Always the voice of reason.

"He's right," Veronica looked worried. "We're performing this afternoon, remember? You can't get into detention today."

"I won't. I just want to let them know that they are not the boss of me."

They exchanged worried looks.

Oh, these babies...

"Come on," I started to walk towards the gate. "Don't want to be late."

The wind dramatically blew straight to our faces as we made our entrance, as if announcing the arrival of the queen and her court.

The heels of my three-inch closed shoes click-clacked on the pavement. The rhinestones decorating its sides shone as sunlight struck them. And they commanded the eyes of every person in the vicinity.

"This is not good," Veronica muttered under her breath while looking around at the astonished faces of every student nearby.

"No," I said, smirking. "This is perfect."

Last week, the nerd club (or the Student Council, as what they call themselves) passed another law. Wearing of high heeled shoes, boots, cosmetics and other accessories would be strictly prohibited inside the school campus.

Look, I had little problems with school laws and policies. Most of the time, when I know that they are reasonable, I would just follow them eventually. This new law was no different. That is, if not for the f*****g president looking directly at me during her speech without even bothering to hide her smirk.

THAT.

That was what had set me off. As if she was telling me that, "Yes, b***h. This is for you."

I was annoyed as heck that I had been absolutely tempted to raise my hand to call every person’s attention attending the assembly and tell the goddamn president straight to her face, “Why, I am honored. To think that you would go as far as to implement another law that is inspired by me. I am absolutely flattered.”

If it hadn’t been for Raymond gripping my sleeve of my jacket tightly, I would’ve done it without fail.

So, as an answer to the president’s loving tribute, here I was walking down the corridors wearing my rhinestone-studded black high heels. I had also taken the liberty to modify the old-fashioned ankle-length skirt and folded it up to the Hem would only reach my knees coupled with knee-length white cotton socks. How's that for sexy and sweet?

Of course, I had to do something with my blouse too. But I just couldn't cut off the sleeves like I wanted to. That would be far too obvious an offense. So I just simply left two top buttons open, just enough to reveal my cleavage. A treat for the little boys, I guess.

Of course, the finishing touches: make-up and accessories. When Allison said that cosmetics are not allowed, I knew deep down that it was a secret message for me to: line my eyes with Kohl, wear cherry red lipstick, paint the surrounding skin of my eyes a light red blush, and use fake eyelashes with mascara. On my ears dangled midnight black stone earrings I had bought from a vintage shop especially for this purpose. Around my neck also hanged a vintage necklace made of black precious stones and on its center was an oval shaped ruby with the color of blood, half the size of my thumb. And my last piece of accessory was an ebony gothic Lolita lace bracelet that wrapped around my wrists. It had black chains that connected the bracelets to a blood red ring on my middle fingers.

Basically, I was a walking gothic punk princess, both a nightmare and a dream. Not to mention hot. I might even be hotter than hell.

There were gasps and whispers as we passed them. It didn't also escape my notice the looks of disgust, horror, amazement, and curiosity painted on the faces of student. They should be. I was relying on them to tell the freaking president about my glorious deed.

I've had already considered Allison Cuerdo a pest since my first year in this school. She had been doing everything in her effort to always be on my case. During oral recitations, she'd always rebut me even if her arguments were no longer aligned to the discussion. She always got away with because of her fancy English. Go figure. And then she'd notice every freaking mistake I'd make and make it her business to reprimand me for it.

I didn't mind it at first but soon it started to get on my nerves. Especially when she ran for SC president and actually won. No longer was she a pest. She became an infestation. So I made it a point to get on her nerves too. Hey, be fair to others, right?

Also, I've had this strong suspicion that Allison has always had the hots for me since day one. Why, then, would she chase me all the way down to the third section considering that she effortlessly made it into top 1 last year? So now, two years later, I would finally prove my suspicion. But that would have to wait until the afternoon.

"You really have outdone yourself, sister," Jackson said when we reached our lockers. All our three lockers were in the same row, conveniently.

I grinned at that and at the stack of mini-envelopes in my locker. Today’s the day I was going to find out who had been sending me these.

"Overdo," Raymond sighed as he opened his locker. "You've overdone it, Aurora. Now the Student Council will have a good excuse to shove the students' handbook down your throat."

"Oh, I'd love to see them try," I slammed my locker door hard after gathering a small bag from inside it. "But not before I shove my fist down their throats first."

And then it came. The cue that I've been waiting for:

"AURORA ALFONSO!!!"

I didn't even had to look to know whose voice it was.

"Take care of Air," I told Raymond, while patting my guitar case I had leaned on the lockers.

His lips curled into a thin line but he nodded anyway.

I grinned and looked around at my other band mates, "Catch you guys later."

And I took off running down the halls.

"HOLD IT!" Allison ran screaming after me. "STOP RUNNING!!"

Okay. So that was fun. I was sorry that it's over but running on a three-inch heeled shoes was not exactly you’d like to do forever. I had let her corner me while I was in the bathroom. But Allison's disoriented appearance made the catch all worth it.

Her usually perfectly combed hair had strands of them standing straight up in all the wrong places. The uniform she's wearing had some noticeable wrinkles on them and her pristine white socks were now smudged with dirt after she had fallen down the dirt path outside the school building. And! She was delightfully flushed and out of breath.

Thirty points for me! I smirked to myself in secret.

We were at the nerd club office, just the two of us. It was the perfect opportunity for her to lay down the rules I've had broken in less than an hour since arriving at the campus and also to give threats on how they--the nerd club--would respond to my actions.

Except, she couldn't. Because all evidences of my "crime" were now gone.

As she was standing in front of me, she was just staring at an ordinary-looking high school student devoid of makeup and accessories and, most importantly, wearing her regular uniform. All pieces of which were sized and measured perfectly appropriate as per the school code.

She couldn't even hide her fury and frustration. The deep red shade was now coloring her ears.

All part of the plan, of course.

"You..." She started, eyes flaming.

"Yes, madam president?" I leaned back on the couch and smiled the most charming smile I could muster.

She was losing her cool, one could easily tell. She was taking deep breaths before she spoke again.

"Is the Student Council a joke to you?" Her voice was calmer but her eyes were looking out of the window.

I almost rolled my eyes. Because duh? At this point isn’t it a little too obvious? I had a mission today and I couldn't waste any more precious time to entertain this drama.

"Of course not," I crossed my arms. "In fact, I have nothing but absolute respect and adoration for what you guys do."

She snapped her eyes at me. "Do you even think of how I would feel, Aurora?"

I raised an eyebrow because really? Why should I even care about that? We weren't even friends for f**k's sake!

"I saw what you did," her glare was back. "And I am aware of what you're doing right now. You are mocking the entire student body!"

I looked at her with a straight face. "Oh, come on. What did you see exactly to say those things about me?"

"You know what! Now you're trying to make a fool of me?!"

Really, I have more important things to do. I should make this proceeding end as quickly as I could.

"Yes, I think I do," I stood up. "But where's your evidence, Ally?"

I had never called her by her nickname before. So I made it a point to emphasize it when I spoke.

And… Bingo. I got the reaction I was expecting.

She stopped as if her breath just caught. One foot took a subconscious step backwards.

She caught herself. "I-I-I... I do."

Ugh. This girl just didn't know when to quit. But that's fine. This was the fastest way to test my theory.

"Show me," I said, purposely putting a hint of innuendo in my tone.

"I-It can't be--It can't be seen n-now but--but I'm sure... I'm sure you're hiding them somewhere!"

Bingo again. That's the cue. Why is this so easy?

"Alright then," I fixed my gaze at her, smirking. "I'll show what I have to hide."

And I started unbuttoning my shirt.