The Next Heiress

Chapter 3 - Preparation

CELINE SUAREZ. MANILA. YEAR 2021.

A woman stands near the corner of the ballroom. Dressed in a beige chic blouse and black slacks, she stares at the young lady who is busy attaching the decorative curtains on the wall. She has been caressing her chin and eyeing her movements for the past ten minutes. The lady doesn't seem to mind with her around until the woman opens her red-stained mouth to speak.

"Please arrange them carefully. I don't like messy things," she requests with a serious tone.

Unfortunately, the young lady drops one of the curtains on the tiled floor. "I'm sorry, Ma'am!"

The woman rolls her eyes.

Quickly, the arranger takes action, getting the fallen curtain from the floor. The woman just nods her head in response to her fast move, and she proceeds to another person who's decorating the wall. I giggle at her dominant self. That isn't new.

"You shouldn't put that in there," she remarks in a slightly annoyed voice. "It looks awful for a lady who's about to turn eighteen, don't you think?"

From his current position, the guy startles. He immediately removes the enormous kiddie-looking flowers. I walk towards them. Somehow, my presence seems invisible. She continues on pointing out the things that she doesn't want to include on the wall. I shake my head, covering my mouth while laughing.

"Mom, you look busy," I told her.

She turns around. A face of a woman carved by different experiences in life meets me. My mother looks so incredibly beautiful. Despite the wrinkles and fine lines, her almond-shaped eyes are still bright and full of life accompanied by a slim nose and downward-turned lips. I take the time to admire her face despite all the things that she had been through the years. A warm smile forms on my glossed lips.

"Yes, I am, and what are you doing here? You're supposed to take a rest. It's Friday evening. Go home. If you have homework, do it," she replies without even pausing.

I cross my arms. "But I don't have anything to do. Besides, the party is on Sunday night. I can't even sleep."

"Come here," my mother opens her arms widely, inviting me to come closer. I dart towards her to give her a hug. She holds me tight and touches my hair gently.

"I can't believe that you're becoming a real woman, Celine," she whispers.

I look up at her. "Me too."

"Are you excited?" She beams cheerfully.

I pause for a moment. It's been a week since I got that weird wound on my left ring finger. It's almost healed, but I still insisted on putting a band-aid on to cover the red marks of the wound. I have already told my mother about it, but I could remember myself being surprised that she wasn't as worried as she used to get whenever I have bruises or wounds all over my body. As her daughter, her reaction was a little bit off to me, yet I managed to brush it off since my birthday is fast approaching. I just planted in my mind that she's always stressed from her office work that she doesn't want to bother about stressing herself more over a little wound.

Now, here I am, staring at the hotel ballroom that my mother has rented with her savings through the years. The hired people are all busy with their personal tasks. The swing, that serves as my seat for the night, stuns me with its wonderful features. It is made of wood and covered by little floral vines. A huge eighteen-number standee is placed on the side of it. On the other parts, the curtains, tables, and pillows are well-arranged. Everything is almost finished.

I remember that Mom originally wanted me to have a Hollywood theme, but I insisted that I'd like to have a Pastel Bohemian motif. She frowned at the idea since she's a big fan of western actors. But soon, she realized that I'm the one who's going to have the birthday party anyway.

"What do you think? You don't like it?" My mother asks.

"No. I love it! I really do. I just recalled that you wanted to have hundreds of Leonardo DiCaprio's pictures on the wall," I chuckle.

She snorts. "Please forget that I told you that, dear. I'm close to my fifties, it's a shame that I suggested things like that to my daughter."

"But I like him though. He's cute," my eyebrows raise in approval.

Mom shakes her head while still showing her pearly whites. Now I know where I got that confusing trait.

"Who? Me?"

Both of us refrain from laughing when suddenly, a familiar voice joins us. My mother removes herself from me, and she goes closer to the speaker. I turn around to take a look. My eyes widen to their maximum level when that one small face that always pisses me off at school displays in my sight.

"Good evening, Mrs. Suarez," he extends his right hand to invite her for a shake.

"Oh, Jim! Finally, you're here!" My mother proceeds in shaking her hand with his.

The guy grins at me. "Hi, Celine."

I blink my eyes in a rapid manner, trying to process the situation. How did this happen? I ask myself. My mother glances at me. She tilts her head to one side. It is a signal for me to greet him back. I want to roll my eyes in irritation, but somehow, I find myself uttering some words.

"Well, hi...I mean, hello."

Mom just giggles, and she pats Jim's back. He giggles. It's quite frightening that they seem so close. It's my first time seeing her being approachable to one of my male classmates. I don't even have a single idea how, when, and why they became like this.

"Celine, I have to assist the others in the arrangements. Is it okay if I leave you both here?" The awkwardness breaks when Mom suddenly asks us.

"Mom, wait. I'm—"

"It's fine, Mrs. Suarez. I'll help Celine if she needs some assistance too," Jim responds with a confident smile.

My mom beams. "That's sweet, Jim. Thank you. I'll be right back."

Before leaving, she gives us a wave and turns back. I watch as her body becomes smaller and smaller from the distance.

"Now, what?" Jim asks, stretching out his arms. He wraps one of them around my shoulder.

I look at him in shock. My first instinct is to slap his arm away, but luckily, I find myself getting his hand and pulling him out of the room. He seems a little surprised at my sudden gesture. As we walk on the pathway, people are looking strangely at us. I don't care. He remains silent until we reach the wide doorway.

"Where are we goi—"

My eyes squint. "Shut up before I kill you."

He chuckles at me. "Okay."

My head moves to the left and right. As I scan the place, a spacious wall on the right side meets my eyes. I drag him quickly to go there and hide him from the people who are passing by. When we reach it, both of us are panting. His hands are on his knees.

"Celine?"

"Yeah?" I mumble.

"Your hand..."

I look down and see my hand still attached to his. My eyes widen. Immediately, I remove it. Despite the awkward atmosphere, Jim just gives me a smile. I could feel my cheeks heating up, so I turn away from him. I would do anything to get him out of my sight.

"It's okay," he says softly.

I haven't moved from my last position. I feel so shy that I can't even face him. He may think that I'm the kind of girl who would take advantage of his friendliness and outgoing nature. Remaining in my posture, I try to think of different ways to escape from this terrible situation that I made.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Jim asks.

I let out a deep sigh, rolling my eyes as far as I can. I'm actually grateful that he can't see it. When I turn around, I am welcomed by a view of a young man, gazing before me. His arms are crossed, and his head is leaning on the wall. A weird feeling enfolds me.

They are right. He's a gorgeous guy, I whisper to myself. Porcelain skin, eyes with monolids, tiny nose, and full lips. His attractive East Asian appearance almost blows me off. I try to remain unintimidated, but I don't know if I'm successful. This is all absurd. I have to collect myself back on track.

"So tell me," I start, breaking the awkwardness between us. "What's the deal between you and my mother?"

Jim stares at me seriously. "Can I tell something before I—"

"Answer me first," I glare.

He lets out a deep sigh. "But Celine..."

I touch my forehead. "I'm getting annoyed, Jim. Stop making excuses. Just answer me, okay?"

The guy remains silent. Suddenly, his small hands move to my chest. Using both of them, he covers it. Upset by his uncomfortable contact with my body, I'm about to raise my hands to grab his shirt but too bad. He's too fast that he caught my hand first. Not just one, but both of them.

"How dare you!" I try to punch him, but I'm helpless.

Jim tightens his grasp, not removing his eyes from mine. I can see no emotions on his face. My heart races as he leans closer to me. I step back, wanting to distance myself from him. I'm not ready for the next thing that may happen, but I'm mentally preparing myself for the danger that I may encounter. My eyes close. Tears start to fall down to my face.

"Please don't," I whimper.

To my surprise, a contact of two thumbs touch my cheeks. They are wiping away my tears. My eyes open promptly. A confused Jim is staring at me.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry if that offended you," he asks, looking greatly worried at me.

My blood rises up. "You're sorry? Wow. You just touched my chest for no reason. I can't believe it. Get away from me!"

"Celine! You don't understand!" His head shakes, disagreeing with my accusation.

I raise my right pointer finger at him. "You're taking advantage of me! I knew it from the start!"

My feet start to walk away, wanting to detach myself from him as far as possible. I'm right. He's not different from his peers. He's just using his charms and kindness to deceive girls and make them fall into his trap. I won't let myself be one of those victims.

"Linnie!" Jim calls out.

I continue, trying to ignore his ridiculous way of calling my name.

"Celine, just hear me out! You just have to hear my explanation. Please!"

"What do you mean?" I face him, still furious. "It's very clear to me that you just want to touch my—"

Jim runs his fingers through his two-block cut hair. "For goodness sake! Just look at your blouse, okay?!"

For a moment, I pause. My head bows down to look, and to my surprise, my blue blouse is helplessly opened. My heart drops when a big part of my chest is already showing, ready for the whole world to see. I look back to Jim. He just stares at me with a straight face. Embarrassment covers my whole being. I could feel my cheeks heating up once more. This time, it is warmer than before. I feel like I want to be eaten by the ground to escape from my shameful allegation.

"Jim...I'm sorry," my head lowers itself. "I know I'm always overreacting, but you must understand that I'm a girl, and I don't like that kind of—"

He cuts me off by laughing.

"Why? What's wrong?" I lift a brow in confusion.

Jim moves closer. My feet step back, but he gets my arm to stop me. He looks at my chest. I widen my eyes, still thinking that he may do something to me. His hands move fast to my blouse.

"I already told you, but you forgot to button it. You're not only overreacting, Celine. You're also forgetful," he says, fixing it.

My eyes narrow in annoyance. "I hate you!"

With a hard force, I push him. He hits his butt on the tiled floor, making him sit. I stop for a minute to stare at him. Jim frowns at me, and he stands up from the ground immediately. He wipes the dirt off his black skinny pants.

"You're damn lucky, Celine," Jim smirks. "You got a best friend who can understand your mood swings and overreactions," he wipes the sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief.

With his words, I come back to my senses. Jim is right. I'm really fortunate that I got Brielle. She's the only person who can handle my attitude. I don't even understand myself, but that girl can. I have several friends, but I can't blame them if sometimes, they don't want to hang out with me.

"You don't have to tell that. I already know that I'm a walking disaster," I answer, unsure of what I should feel.

I sit on the ground, hugging my legs with my arms. Jim joins me. I watch him as he sits beside me with his body positioned just like mine.

"Are you sure that you're not here to give me some life lessons?" I scoff.

He shakes his head. My lips part to give him a smile.

"Your teeth are massively crooked," he points out.

"Yes, it is," I roll my eyes, feeling annoyed that someone has pointed out one of my major insecurities. "And I hate it so much."

He leans closer to me. "I think it's cute," Jim raises his eyebrows in a playful manner. He smiles widely, letting me see his set of teeth.

"Wow. I didn't know that your teeth are also crooked. It's my first time to see it," I tell him, still staring at it.

"It's because we haven't got any up-close interactions like this," he chuckles.

My eyes meet his. He may have small ones, but their effect is on a different level. They look like they have their own way of expressing their emotions. This man has undergone a lot of experiences in life, and I can tell it just by looking at his meaningful and appealing eyes. Does that sound weird?

"But...do you think you need braces?" I ask awkwardly.

"Originally, I wanted to have braces, but I decided not to get them," he beams. "There's a reason why my teeth became like this, and I want to always remember that."

My brows furrow in curiosity. "What is it?"

"You're quite nosy too," he giggles.

I bite my lips. "I'm sorry. I'm just curious."

"Celine, you don't have to say sorry all the time," his nose crinkles. "Say that when it's only needed, okay? Telling it numerous times makes it less appreciated."

His comment causes me to pause for a moment to think. This guy is right, I think to myself. He has a point. I always apologize even for the smallest reason. Brielle doesn't mind it, but I think it's about time to change that old trait to be a better human being, right?

"Okay. Thanks for that," I reply, still awkward at our conversation.

Jim looks at me, bemused. "For what?"

"Uhm, for saying that to me. Now I know that I have to make my sorry sincerer and not annoying," I smile sheepishly.

He chuckles. "You're ridiculous."

My irritation for him slowly fades. This young man isn't that bad after all. He's just being real, and I think he's happy and confident about himself.

"So, can I ask now why?"

"Well," Jim chuckles. He scoots closer to me to start his story. "I got it from my bullies when I was in fifth grade."

My eyes blink heavily. "How?"

"I used to let them tease and mock me. They always get my shoes and hang them on the gates of my school. My books were always missing, and then I would only find them, scattered on the stairways."

"Oh," I put my right palm on my mouth.

His smile fades. "I can't say it to my mother. She was always tired from work, and I didn't want her to worry about me. When I asked them what they want from me, they told me that I was too small compared to the other boys at my school. For them, I was the easiest target."

My heart breaks when I think of the young Jim Salvador, being belittled and weak by other boys in his school. Nobody deserves to be treated harshly just because of being a late bloomer. It's surprising that one of the biggest hunks at my school has a terrible experience with bullying when he was young.

I stare at him with pity. "So, what did you do?"

"One day, I realized that I can't take it anymore. I allowed myself to learn some basic boxing skills. I even borrowed a pair of boxing gloves from my neighbor, and I used them to shower them with punches. Of course, they fought back," he simpers as he reminisces the memory of him being determined to avenge his bullies. "One of them punched me hard on the mouth that I thought I was going to lose my tooth. Luckily, it didn't," he smiled widely at me. "It just bent."

"I think it's cute that you got all of that courage," I grin at him. "I salute you, Jim."

"I hate you so much," he replies, trying to imitate me with a small and girly voice.

We laugh so hard, remembering the time together when I said that I hate him. It only happened last week, but it seems like it's been a long time. As much as I want to hit him, I can't. I have mercy. My punch might make his tooth even worse. Just thinking about it makes me laugh even more.

"How about you? Is there any story about your crooked teeth?" Jim calms himself from chuckling loudly.

"Nope. There's nothing interesting about me," I answer, skipping the thought of punching him.

"Wait!" My eyes widen. "What time is it?"

He raises his wrists to show me that he's not wearing any watch. "My phone is inside. Come on."

Jim helps me to stand up. Both of us wipe the dirt and dust off our pants. Suddenly, he pauses for a moment.

"Celine, your band-aid is almost detached," he said.

My brows squish together. "What?"

"I think you should remove it," Jim suggests. "Why would you cover a scar?"

"Huh?" My curiosity grows. When I glance at my left hand, the nude band-aid is hanging on my ring finger. As I remove it fully, my eyes widen in shock.

"What?" Jim asks, being surprised at my reaction.

"T-this couldn't be," I stutter nervously. "I just got this wound last Wednesday."

He lifts a brow. "The day we made a scene in the cafeteria because of egg pies?"

"Yes, Jim!" I cried in worry. "Why would this be white? It should be in red...or black!"

Jim gets my left hand. He leans his head to stare at my ring finger up close. "Well, that's weird. Your finger appears to have a white scar that's been faded for several years."

"Do y-you think it's strange?" I tremble in fright.

"Yes, it is," he answers. "But don't think too much about it, Celine," Jim pats both of my shoulders gently. "You should be relaxing. Don't stress yourself with negative thoughts. Your birthday is coming."

With his words, I heave out a sigh of relief. Once again, he has a point.

"You're right. Anyway, thanks for the time, Jim," I say before the situation becomes awkward again.

"It's nothing. I should be the one who must say that. You're the one who dragged me to this place," he beams.

My lips manage to smile back. I am staring at him when all of a sudden, my eyes catch a view of a man standing behind him. He's several meters away. I can't exactly see his face since he's too far from our position, but it's visible that he has a tall figure. He's wearing an old-looking polo with long white sleeves and faded brown pants.

"Do you know him?" I ask Jim.

His brows furrow, forming a curious expression. "Who?" Jim turns around. His head roams around to search for the man that I'm referring to, but he scratches his nape when he sees nothing. "There's no one in here except us. Are you okay, Celine?"

I move his shoulders to the side to let me see the long hallway. To my surprise, the man is already gone. I blink and wipe my eyes repeatedly. My heart starts to beat fast. "Jim, I saw him, I swear! He was just standing behind you!"

He stares at me, appearing so confused at the moment. "Are you sure?"