HIS FANTASY ** COMPLETED BOOK 1

TRY TO OPEN MY HEART

"Get out of here, you miserable wretches. Scram!"

A boy pushed a woman who was crying. She looks so dumb and broken.

"Please, let me talk to my husband. I know he will listen to me," a woman said.

"No, he will not, because he is not here." The boy replied.

"Please, I know he was in there. I am begging you for the sake of our child." The woman spoke in a soft voice as tears flowed from her eyes.

I STOP!!!

I stopped typing the words. Then I clicked three dots instead of words. I was too emotional to take this chance. My heartache is arising. Why is this the scenario I thought of? a dramatic scene for a family makes me feel lonely.

Pete goes home to Santa Lucia every weekend from his dorm, two municipalities before he arrives, and takes almost one hour for a regular jeep to run. I hope this is the first possibility. Pete is one of those sweet guys destined for heartbreak—too nice to be sexy. We chatted for at least an hour a day. Usually, he is not online on his messenger account and other social media accounts. Sometimes he calls suddenly, then wanders around our classroom, just to talk to me, of course, with my long-time friends. I don't want to be a topic of discussion on the campus every time we talk. This is the easiest part of my day. I get heartburn from it sometimes. I felt like I was stealing from someone else because of the many people who liked him. I get it and I know my place when it comes to her. If I don't want to chat, she'll find another way, someone who can accept the gifts she always asks me for, and sometimes she always sends flowers. He talks about his past relationships. He still had feelings for that person.

It feels lonely at home. The pictures he sends me of Pete are what he eats, his basketball with his friends, including his white dog, and a lumbered teddy bear that is soft and big that is the only one next to him sleeping in his bed. Out of the hundreds of photos he sent me, I got a few pictures of him. Two, to be exact. Both are pictures that hid his looks. In one, he had a hooded jacket with thick fur around the edges, pulled tightly closed, only his eyes and part of his nose visible.

I even got a second photo of him. It was taken with a canon camera, a vague outline of a man, barely noticed behind a wall of white flurries. Maybe he's deformed. Whatever he looked like, he was kind, very kind. It's so kind for me to love him back. I don't fall for the good ones. We talked about everything, the real thing, and I didn't hide anything about my family, especially my parents. The downside to Pete is that he wants to know everything about me, all about my day. Keeping the façade at that level is tedious. And he's not just asking; he really listened to my answers. I have a calendar just for Pete. I'm doing this to remind myself that I have someone who is inspiring me at the same time.

I wish I had a pet. I need something to comfort me sometimes. I know I'm 20, but I feel sad sometimes. Not love has been able to grow up with our family living in this home, from my childhood. I want them to rub my back every time I take a shower, play with me and tell me everything will be okay too. Simple touches go a long way in providing comfort. I've tried to look at a variety of beautiful things that can be taken care of at home or online but haven't found a way to do that yet. I can order dogs via the Internet and send them home, but I always have to feed them right, and it needs proper care, especially with vitamins and regular injections. I was in a budget crisis, so I decided to stop looking for it and put the costs of the house first.

I took a deep breath. I decided to take a nap, but my cell phone suddenly vibrated and rang. An unknown contact number flashed on the screen.

"Hello..."

"Sheila..." said a male voice from the other line.

"Who is this?"

"Hmm... you forgot it; you gave me your number last night." I knew it. It's Pete calling me.

"What's up?" I said.

"I want to see my girl," he said.

"I'm busy..."

"Yeah, I know. Can you look out your window first?" He asked.

"Why...?" I asked as I looked at the closed window in my bedroom. Then I realized I hadn't opened this window for a year. I decide to keep it closed and locked, because I have a memory of it. I don't want to remember to see things from the outside, it's hurting me.

"Sheila... Please..." Pete said.

"I won't." I left my room and just went downstairs. I opened the main door to see him outside.

"Why don't you just come and knock on the door?" I insisted, while talking to the line.

"Because I want to see you in an unexpected way," he said. I see him now, he was standing behind the three in front of the house.

"Can I come?" he asked.

"Yeah," I remember last night, when I woke up in the morning, Pete was not by my side. He didn't wake me up. Did Mom see him?

"What do you like to eat?" I asked Pete, when he got in.

"Anything. Maybe some water, cold water, I mean," he said. I didn't leave in front of him, and I just asked him

"I'm sorry, I can't open my window. It's locked," I said. I go downstairs and walked to the kitchen. I knew he was following me through his gaze.

I looked at him near the window and I was right. He caught me with a glance, as if he knew where I was.

Pete was standing outside, waving at me. His beautiful smile was captivating.

"Sheila, if you think I'm bothering you, it's fine, just tell me if I should stop flirting with you." he added to say as we are stil talking on the phone.

"Stop," I interrupt him. Looking at him in the eyes and now finally I decided to tell him the truth, "I like you,"