The Next Heiress

Chapter 10 - Thoughts

"Yolanda, you're back!"

The young man runs towards me. His feet pounds the soft grass with all grace, leaving an impression of determination. In each step that he takes, several strands of his rich black hair keep in pace with his action, as if it lets me see how they move in a thrilled manner. His long arms that are covered with his white-colored polo alternately joins in his movement, like racing their way closer to me. As I stare to his location, suddenly, a new feeling enfolds me.

Like, it gently tugs my heartstrings to a sweet direction.

When he reaches me, his feet refrain from moving. As I look up to see his face in a closer view, my eyes unexpectedly lock with his almond-shaped ones. He gazes at me with longingness laced in his brown eyes, while his hands are on his thighs, catching his breath due to panting. As he takes one more deep inhalation, he rushes at me, and pulls me closer to him.

"I-I," he stutters, slowly wrapping his arms around me. "I thought I'll never see you again."

Surprisingly, the tone of his deep voice soothes my anxious mind. His embrace is warm, and his strong arms seem very protective as he tightens his squeeze at my body. He buries his face into the crook of my neck, sending unwelcomed butterflies inside my stomach. We sit on the grassy ground like that for a while, until he removes himself from me and glances at me again.

"Uhm..." I break the dulcet quietness with a wordless response.

If I'm being honest with myself, I hate to break the affectionate interaction. From the moment he shows his emotions, I want to know more of his history, and his longingness for his real lover. However, there is one thing that I have to do, and that is to learn if this is the man that my mother has already talked about.

I grin nervously. "Tadeo...right?"

I put my hands to my back, crossing my fingers as much as I can to secretly hope that he won't have any doubts with me. My mind is already busy preparing for a good and valid excuse just in case he becomes suspicious at my behavior.

To my surprise, he only chuckles.

"Yolanda, it's me," he tells, brushing off my awkward question.

"Have you already forgotten my face?" His eyebrows raise along with his sudden puppy-like eyes, probably hoping for more sweet replies.

From me.

A total stranger.

"Uh, no...It isn't like that," I answer softly, avoiding his stare.

The young man just smiles at me, offering his hand to stand me up. After making sure that I'm completely on my feet, he proceeds in removing the attached leaves of the grass on my maroon skater skirt. I stare at him as he continues to wipe it off.

"There, it's all clean," the guy smiles.

I find myself smiling at him. When he sees my gesture, he pokes my cheeks, catching me off-guard. But that little curve on my lips abruptly fades when he narrows his eyes as he notices something from me. I gulp down in fright, feeling the color draining from my cheeks.

"You cut your hair again," he remarks, sliding the see-through bangs on my forehead like the keys on a piano and then letting his fingers glide down on my medium-length hair. "It seems like every once in a while, you change your hairstyle."

Upon hearing his comments on my look, I feel some deep pinches in my heart, making my eyes blink rapidly. His observation has touched the weakest part of my heart, and here I am, feeling every single nip of it. He has no idea that I'm not the one he's looking for, I tell to myself, halting the upcoming wave of tears.

"You don't have to worry. No matter what your hair is, I really understand," the man beams once more, giving me a sight of his box-shaped smile. "Although I like it simple and long, if that's what you need to fit in every generation you're in, it's okay."

Generation I'm in? I squint, wondering about the things he has said. What does he mean about that?

"Uhm...yes! I have to adapt. It isn't that difficult though," I reply, the tone of my voice comes out in a nervous tone, scratching my nape in the realization that I've just lied to carry on with this conversation.

He nods in response, still not dissolving his radiant smile like a row of tombstones reflecting in a pond.

What should I do next? What should I say next? Am I doing this whole acting thing right? Will he find it out? I'm flooding myself with questions as I panic deep inside.

Suddenly, unplanned words come out of my mouth.

"Well...does this haircut look good on me?" My brows lift up as I wait for his answer. I almost slap myself, cringing hardly in asking a useless question.

The young man beams. "Yes, but it really doesn't matter," he assures, slowly getting one of my hands from my back. His palm presses on mine gently, feeling his calloused one. The warm feeling of the contact stirs new sensations in my body. "You are still the most beautiful woman in my eyes," he whispers with a sweet tone, letting his charming brown eyes pierce into mine.

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"Celine?" A voice calls my name.

"Hmm?" I mumble. "Oh?"

To my surprise, somebody begins to tap my shoulders. With the current situation that I'm in, I don't entertain anybody. There are a lot of things going inside my head, and the last thing that I want to have is someone bugging me. So, with a pissed-off reaction, I shoo the person's hands away from my body. I don't even care who it is. My body says that I still want to sleep, and I badly need it so much.

"Miss Celine Suarez, if you're not going to listen to my class, leave this room right now!"

Upon hearing that familiar voice, I raise my head up from my desk immediately. It tilts to the left side, and I see Jim smiling at me with worry written on his small face. In the middle, my professor stares at me with annoyance. While on the right, Brielle gives a stroke on my right leg using her left one. The rest of the class glares at me like I've done something so terrible.

Ugh, not today, please, I whisper to myself, closing my eyes for a moment. Apologizing for my inconsiderate behavior, I bow my head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cortez."

"You'd better be," he replies coldly.

My eyes shift to the board. With the use of a black marker, there are some sentences and numbers written on it. It sucks that on the bottom part, there are some questions about them. Silently, I pray so hard that he won't call my name again to answer one of them. I find myself crossing my fingers in hopes that this man won't even think of it. The teacher just scans the whole room, glancing at each of his students before fixing his glasses on his nose bridge.

"Anyway, let's continue," he says after a long awkward silence.

I heave out a deep sigh, letting the heavy air out of my lungs. Relief washes me down when my teacher turns back to the whiteboard to resume his ongoing lesson. To continue, his right hand writes the numbers carefully, ensuring each of them is visible enough for his students to see.

"Girl, you're lucky this time," Brielle whispers at me. "He just scolded you."

"I know right," I roll my eyes.

My best friend chuckles gingerly, still glimpsing at Mr. Herbert Cortez if he's still busy writing. When she sees that he's focused on the board, she continues on talking with me. "Hey, you sound a little moody today," she scoffs, flicking her hand in a playful manner.

"Brielle, stop talking," I shush her down with my pointer finger on my lips. "Just listen in Statistics."

With my scolding tone, the girl raises her brows in surprise. She seems a little shocked by my remark. Before my best friend could argue, Jim suddenly finds himself entering our conversation.

"Are you okay, Celine? You look like you need some sleep," he asks, casting a concerned expression. To talk in a casual approach, his legs that are hugged by his fitted school pants go outside from the table.

"Ugh," I bite my lower lip with my other one in vexation. "Leave me alone. Please."

"Well, okay," the guy replies with a soft voice. Restoring himself in the proper sitting position.

"You're rude, Celine," Brielle retorts, doing the same thing.

As much as I want to apologize to both of them, I just exhale more air out of my body. Frustrations are hanging out within the borders of my brain since I haven't slept decently last night. My head is so full of unanswered questions and confused thoughts. Those scenarios inside the oil painting with that old-fashioned man keep on repeating inside my mind like a broken vinyl record player, causing me to lose my complete focus in the class.

I really want to pretend that everything is fine.

But I just can't.

He is stuck in my head.

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For about fifteen minutes, we have been walking around the brown Nipa Hut, with his hand still attached to mine. The young man shows me the tall trees around it, and he tells me how he waters them every day along with the flowers in the garden and the various plants. This guy has even demonstrated that he chats with these plants which he calls his adorable pets.

I find it a little wholesome.

The entire surroundings are bigger than I could ever imagine. Just a few meters away from us, there's a stream and yes, a small bridge—the thing that is not included if somebody would look at the painting from the outside. It makes me a little curious. I'm about to ask him if he knows about this, but he looks so excited to share the things that he has been doing in this place, so I just let him babble.

"They look cute, don't they?" He giggles.

I just nod and smile at him sheepishly.

"You haven't been talking much, Yolanda," he stares at me. "Are you okay?"

"O-oh...yes. I'm fine. Really," I bob my head again to convince him that I do.

The lad looks slightly bothered by my reaction, but he brushes it off immediately. We continue on walking around. I glance at his hand holding on to mine. The grasp is so warm with his gentle fingers. When he catches me staring at it, he moves his hand for a bit to change its position, and he gives a soft squeeze on mine, causing my cheeks to heat up.

"Tadeo," I call his name.

I just realize that it's only my first time acknowledging his name without being clueless.

He tilts his head to face me. "Yes?"

I gulp down. "I think I have to go now."

His bright face quickly fades, changing into a lonely expression. "In a hurry, eh? Well, I think you have more important things to do outside."

"Yes, I'm sorry," I stand stiffly in my position.

Suddenly, the guy laughs, then he proceeds in pinching my cheeks playfully. "It's okay, Yolanda. You could always visit me. Just remember what Asuncion said."

Asuncion? The spirit of inquiry grows more inside my head as he brings a name of a woman. Who is she? Does she know something about this? There is really a lot of stuff that I'm missing out on with this whole obligation. My mother should prepare her answers for these things, and I wouldn't stop asking her until I find the answer to my last question. If she can't answer everything, then I'll discover it by myself.

"Hmm, so what are you waiting for?" Tadeo suddenly asks, causing me to come back from my senses.

I touch my chest, anxious at his question. "Am I supposed to do or say something?"

He bites his lips. Just by looking at his eyes, I could already tell that he was already frustrated at my sudden change of behavior. Meanwhile, my brain is still silently praying that he won't be in uncertainty.

"You used to snap your fingers, right?" He asks, looking a little iffy.

My anxiety grows even more.

"Oh, okay..." I snigger, faking a broad smile with my tumbling brows. "So...let's meet again?"

Before he answers, Tadeo steps closer to me, and he holds my chin to gaze into his brown eyes. A weird yet tingling feeling loads up in my stomach, passing it to my nervous heart and to the other areas of my body.

"Not again, my love," he whispers with a husky voice, sending chills to my ear. "Every day."

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The bell rings. Our classes are dismissed. Brielle bids goodbye and tells that she wouldn't be able to accompany me in going home together. She informs me that her mother has asked her to come to the nearby mall to shop with her. And, although she says that I'm kinda off today, she totally understands, so we are not awkward because of my snobbish attitude earlier. Well, that's how our friendship works—having compassion for each other.

When it comes to Jim, I don't have an idea. He has left the school early, and I haven't talked to him ever since. I hope he doesn't mind. I'm just going through a lot, and I can't even sink them all into my mind.

While strolling the outside of the school, my head lowers down, staring at the cemented street. I watch how the two of my feet race with each other. My mind is a little carried away with this mini-game when on the spur of the moment, other feet wearing glossy black shoes stop me from walking. Slowly, I look up to see the face of the person in front of me.

"Hi, Celine!" The guy chirps cheerfully.

"Seth!" I shout happily, returning the greeting with an amicable hug.

"It has been ages since we've hung out. The funny thing is we're in the same school, but we never get together," he says with a laugh, poking my arm with his elbow.

I chuckle at him. His statement is true. We never had the chance of mingling and eating in the different pubs after the school administration transferred him to the other section—the third rank among the thirteen classes, where Justin is currently in.

"I haven't seen you around the neighborhood," he begins to make a topic. "Until your mom shared to my mom that you already moved to live on your own."

I titter. "Oh, she mentioned that? Yes, it's true."

"Celine? Independent?" He snorts. "Hmm. Not quite a good combination, eh?"

This lad hasn't changed at all. He's still a lame joker and a cheerleader. I may not see him or even bond with him all the time, but there's one thing for sure—Seth de Asis is one of my good friends since the days of my childhood. Whenever we talk, we just vibe with each other. No awkwardness, pretentions, or limits.

Along with a petite girl named Elina Santos, the three of us used to play around the vicinity. We also went to the same school, but we started to slowly grow apart when both of them were transposed to other sections. With Seth in the third class, Elina is in the second one, together with Nathan.

As of now, Brielle is my companion most of the time. We, being average dorks, are in the seventh class with Jim. And yes, we are proud of it. Kidding aside, I just love the good blend of studying and goofing around. We know when to be silly, and when to be serious. Yes, I am quite happy with my section.

"Your jokes are still lame, Seth," I reply to his comment after having a little ride on the Reminiscence train.

The guy laughs in a loud manner, then he shakes his head, probably disagreeing with my comment, even if it's definitely a fact.

"Anyway, why did you appear out of nowhere?" I ask, putting my hands on the straps of my shoulder bag.

"Uhm," his mouth forms into a playful straight line. "I just spotted you being alone. Mind me accompanying you?"

"Really?" My eyes light up in excitement. "No problem! My best friend, Brielle, is with her mom, shopping at Time Plaza."

"Brielle? As in Brielle Catapang?" Seth's eyes squint as he asks about her full name.

My forehead creases, feeling slightly strange with his unexpected question. "Uh, yes."

"Okay," he smiles timidly.

Seth opens another conversation with him on the topic. He spills his tips on how he manages to survive in his section, though sometimes, he wants to give up already. The pressure there is so real that most of his classmates are very dedicated to their studies. He shares that some students even sleep in the library, and don't go home just to prepare for a quiz or activity.

I gape at him. "Really? That's crazy."

"Yes. I don't even know if being in that section is a blessing or a curse," he laughs loudly, pinching his pointed nose.

Fortunately, he and Nathan are close. He tells about the start of their friendship because of a seminar with the top three classes. Since then, he always seeks for Nathan's advice about studying.

As we continue to saunter down the street, Seth suddenly stops moving. He has his eyes fixed on something in a somewhat far location. I tilt my head to the direction where his eyes are looking, there we see a fine young man dressed neatly in his school uniform leaning on the brick wall. Due to our chit-chats, I haven't realized that we are already across from my house.

"Justin, hey!" Seth calls with a cordial tone.

I widen my eyes in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He lets out a sigh, giving me a small smile. "I have to talk to you, Celine."