Charmed Chaos

2. I saw him

EMILY

The first thing I heard was Aunt Lena's voice, even though my blaring alarm was right on the bedside stool next to me.

Glenda, our little Persian cat, gracefully walked into the room and settled on my lap.

"Oh, today must be good," I let out, as I rubbed his head and watched him walk out of the room.

Right after brushing my teeth, I joined Rachel and Aunt Lena in the kitchen where they ate.

"So y'all are eating without me," I said, joining them at the table. "And what are you two gossiping about?"

Aunt Lena, making a funny face at me, said, "Good morning to you, too."

Rachel tapped my shoulder before she spoke. "Please, help me tell our aunt that she shouldn't even consider having a thing with Pascal. Sometimes I don't understand this woman."

My brows raised, I exclaimed, "Pascal? Like, the electrician? Aunt Lena, you can't be for real."

Rachel rolled her eyes, the empty cup of tea in her hands. "Do you know another one? Yes, that Pascal. She turned to Aunt Lena, shifting a little so she could get her attention. "For one, he's like ten years younger than you. Secondly, he just left his wife two months ago. Three…"

I cut in, saying, "He's a werewolf and you think they're all heartless?"

Rachel exhaled, and then shook her head at me. "I didn't say that. Never did. Your words, not mine."

Shrugging, I stated, "But you were about to, weren't you?"

"Says who?" replied Rachel, looking away. "I don't want to argue with you, Emily. I'm just advising my dear Aunt to not… sleep with Pascal which, for some reason is the thing she told me this morning."

Aunt Lena chuckled, very nearly spitting out the tea. "It's just like you're both teenagers all over again. You girls fight over everything."

"It's her," Rachel and I chorused, pointing at each other.

"See what I'm saying," Aunt Lena let out, still laughing.

Pascal was at least ten years younger than my aunt but had an eye for her for years now. I couldn't blame him. When Aunt Linda and I were before people who didn't know us, they often thought we were sisters, when in reality there was nearly two decades between Aunt Lena and Rachel.

I looked at my phone and saw that Ian had sent me a message saying he was headed to the restaurant to meet up with me.

Damn, I had almost forgotten.

Ian had been Rachel's boyfriend for two years and they were both deeply in love; you know, the typical lovebirds that often gave people the cringe.

But what my dear sister didn't know was that her boyfriend hit me up days ago telling me he wanted to take things with Rachel to the next level. He was going to propose.

After asking me everything that was needed, both Aunt Lena and I have nearly finished decorating the interior of our restaurant, where they would have what Aunt Lena called 'the most exquisite dinner'.

"How I wish I could see when Ian does it," I let absentmindedly, immediately remembering that it was meant to be a surprise.

"When Ian does what?" Rachel enquired, her eyes a little squinted.

"Uh... I mean, if he goes... that he..."

"She's trying to say she wishes she could see that rom-com with you and Ian," Aunt Lena voiced, helping me out. "But I think you both want to see it together, right?"

Rachel nodded, her lips pouted. "Sorry sis. I'm seeing that one with my man."

Aunt Lena winked at me and I mouthed a thank you to her.

I went to the bathroom and just as I began to enjoy my bath, my phone that I left in the living room rang.

"Fabian is calling," Rachel shouted out from the living room. "Should I hang up on the i***t?"

"Please do," I responded.

Look, what Fabian and I had, to this day confused me. Nobody, not even the two of us, could confidently say if we were still dating. He was just..., to put it nicely, an i***t. Today he would call telling me he loved me, and tomorrow I will hear he is sleeping with yet another girl in and out of the town— I was tired. And then we would break up and say our goodbyes, and two weeks later, he would, with teary eyes, apologise, telling me that those other girls meant nothing to him, and he was done with them. We would make up and make out, only for the same s**t to start all over again.

I was beyond frustrated. Even if I was a fool, there was a limit to everything.

Aunt Lena had told me from the start that Fabian and I wouldn't really work out. You see, the first five times Fabian asked me out, I explicitly told him I wasn't interested. Back then, I couldn't imagine being in a relationship with him. I mean, I could write an essay on why we shouldn't be together, the first reason being that, in all honesty, I didn't like him.

But, somehow, his relentless endeavours began to appear romantic to me, and I agreed to be with him. Which in hindsight, was the most stupid things I have ever done, and I say this as a girl who talked to her dolls until I was fifteen.

When Aunt Lena told me what the problem in our relationship was, I didn't believe her at first. You see, when it came to penetrative s*x, well, I was a virgin. It wasn't an issue of morality or anything of the sort. No, there was no reason other than the fact I wasn't ready to be that vulnerable with anyone yet. When Fabian and I started dating, I made this clear to him, and I thought he was fine with it. I mean, I still had to pull his hands from under my skirt every time we made out, but I dismissed that as ‘boys being boys’.

But as it came to be, I heard from an embarrassing amount of people that Fabian was getting s*x from other girls.

I wasn't fine with that.

All dressed up, I came out to the living room. I saw Rachel and Aunt Lena speaking in low tones, so I just knew it was about me.

"Look," Rachel started, "you are twenty-three. You're a big girl, but that doesn't mean you need to rush yourself into anything. Or for anyone, and I'm not just talking about Fabian."

Aunt Lena added, "When it comes to something like sex... it's... uh... it's personal. As personal as it gets, you know. There is something as an age too young to be sexually active, but there's nothing like an age too old. You get me? No pressure, no rushing into anything."

I nodded. "Gotten, guys. Now I have to go."

Just as I stepped out of the house, I saw Fabian heading towards me.

"I have been calling you," he said.

Oh, my goodness! Not this morning. Please, no!

A smile born out of anxiety slipped into his face, his palms rubbing against each other. "Didn't you see the missed calls?"

Man, I wasn't ready for this. To say that the day was going just fine before I saw him.

"I'm busy, Fabian," I voiced out, walking past him. "Please don't bother me."

"We can sort this out. I swear, we can."

I shook my head at him, keeping eye contact for a moment. "There is nothing to sort out. It is best if you accept this. I have told you this before but it's final this time."

"Why do I get the impression that you are giving up on us?"

Walking away, I said, "You get the impression? I just it spelled it said to you."

He drew closer, every softness previously on his face, now absent. "You don't know it yet, but you will miss me. I see it. I'm a witch, you're witch… we are perfect for each other. No one can relate to you like me."

You’re a witch? I’m a witch? Wow. An immaculate pairing made by the heavens.

He continued, stepping back. "You can't find another guy like me."

I flicked my fingers, and then gave him a thumbs up. "Finally, we agree. But good thing I met you, Fabian. At least, now I know what not to look for in a man."

I watched him walk away slowly, and quite frankly, I didn't feel bad. Hell, I didn't even feel bad when I first heard he was seeing other girls. What I felt was shame, and a burning desire to remove myself from whatever it is we had followed suit. You see, with Fabian and I, love wasn't in the equation at all. He liked me, and now that I got to know him better, I knew it was for no other reasons than physical appearances and whatever fantasies his dumb mind can generate.

I have friends and I know how they feel after a break up. It's always a sad moment especially when they were hurt before the split. But for me, I was relieved.

He was a bad kisser anyway. Half the time we made out, my lower lip felt like getting an injunction against him.

Just as I was about halfway to the restaurant, I saw him.

He had no binder on. Perhaps, that was the first thing I noticed about him because that was quite unusual.

He was quite tall, give or take, standing at six foot two, he possessed the ideal stature, instantly igniting something within me.

Yeah, I was a sucker for tall guys.

And those eyes! With the glow of the sun washing over him, they looked like windows to his soul. They were a shade of deep, rich brown, glistening with tenderness. They were alive, as if each glance cast a spell upon me.

His physique; clearly he was a gym rat, but to me, all I saw was an artwork sculpted by divine hands. His broad shoulders commanded attention, framing his form with an air of strength. The fabric of his shirt clung to his every contour, emphasising his chiselled physique. Honestly, he looked like he jumped out from the glossed pages of a fashion magazine.

Mind you, I didn't stare at him for more than a few seconds.

As I was about to walk past him, he said “Hi,”.

Without even looking at him, I said the same, and kept walking.