Paradoxical Love

Chapter 33: Will you write one for me?

Naturally, she came in first before me. I swallowed a few buckets of my slaver running down my mouth when she locked the door, from the wall hook to the security chain solidly assuring no one from outside will intrude.

"Wait here." Now she's back with the dignified Council President monotone, I did as I was told.

Then she stepped upstairs probably to the bedroom. I placed my bag on the sofa first and sat down next to it. My sweat was pouring like a broken dam, my head is in a daze and I can't tell how much longer I can keep up this stimulation knowing how will this end up.

I just didn't expect to come back from where I left her behind. I can still remember her unforgivable sin of deveining me and putting my sister in jeopardy. But most of all, I can't forget when she knelt in front of her abode weeping all by herself.

I need to come up with a plan so that I can get out of here while also not hurting her feelings, it's not like I don't want to do it with her, I'm simply a hopeless virgin who can't handle a fine lady like her.

Before I could even unlock the lock to the entrance, I returned back beside my bag to prevent myself from being caught, it's better to be certain than regret later.

I was agitated with every c***k coming from the stairs with every step she took but I just noticed that something was strange about her today.

Her long pink t-shirt reaches to her thighs that made me glued onto her for a brief second, she was very tall when she has her heels on but now that I see a closer look, Matilda had a balanced stature that she can use her shirt not to wear something below.

However, I began to wonder if she's really not wearing anything down there. What made my eyes even more fascinated was the grape of truth that prevailed on the two mountains; she had a nice bosom to be precise.

In spite of the small details I noticed, what really caught my attention was her notebook in his right palm and a ballpoint pen on the other, she was pouting unable to grasp if I did something that could lose her mood.

She wasn't angry but she threw the pen and notebook on the table in a tantrum. I didn't even know she can be moody at times, proving I should take a hint and probably fixed this unusual atmosphere between us.

"Uhm, for what?" I was confused, shrugging my shoulders in doubt.

Those piercing stares of hers' were making me uncomfortable, now I was curious what went wrong.

Uneasily stomping her feet, crossing her arms waiting for me to do something, and above all that, the bluish hues in her eyes were concentrated to a single point implying how mad she is.

"Write," Matilda spoke with a grumpy face.

"What...?" My eyebrows are already pressed together, I was sweating an entire ocean.

"I heard everything about Helenia, including her past and all the poems you made just for her!" She raised her voice that petrified me in place, she witnessed I was scared for a moment she wanted to tell me she didn't mean that way but she couldn't, lucky for her I can understand her a bit.

"You heard everything? Now I'm doomed." But seriously I'm shivering right now, squeezing my shoulders. How, what, where, and when did she listen to the two of us? Though it doesn’t matter what happened, the more important part is to calm her down.

"Yes? What of it?" The presence she gives off was threatening, putting my presence in a shambles, she raised her left eyebrow to further intimidate me. I must have stepped on a landmine, it should be my priority to recover from this to tell her it's a misunderstanding.

"Wait, I can explain I swear–" As soon as I tried to speak for myself, Matilda then covered my mouth with her hand pushing me on a back pillow, it was so sudden I got her hand wet from my slaver, things wouldn't get worse I really hope.

"Silence. You always wrote poems for her... While I have never received a poem from my boyfriend... Not even once... I get jealous too." For that very moment, her pinkish cheeks as she caresses it to hide her embarrassment, and the way she averted her eyes were mesmerizing that I wish to burn this charming side of her in my retinas.

I was the one who is wrong, it's true I never wrote a poem for her even for once, how can I be so dense not to see what have I done? I could've also felt her melancholy if I were in her position, I should make amends before it's too late.

After all, we are in a relationship, I must take note of that as always. This is just the beginning but little by little I can learn more about her personality that might probably lead to understanding her past, and I believe I can change what needs to be improved.

I am being tested by her, Matilda's troubled and I'm the reason why she's unhappy, the least I could do as her boyfriend derive her of the jealousy retaining within her. I confidently took the pen and placed the notebook on my thigh; starting to think what kind of poem I shall dedicate to her for the first time.

I was shaking holding the pen as she's observing me firsthand, the moment the ink etched on the rough page of her notes; she would behold aside from me in which she had never seen before.

What I have really been ashamed of since I was born, to the point that every teacher when I was in elementary school scolded me on a daily basis, was the worst penmanship I possessed that never improves no matter what I try.

"Don't worry Matilda, I'll make a poem just for you." I'm confident in my writings, except for my handwriting 'cause she'd think I'm cursing her.

"Really? You'll write one for me?" Matilda brightened up squirming, I got relieved knowing she's looking forward to it.

"I am your boyfriend, right? I'll write even a hundred poems for you whenever you want." I smiled genuinely, and then I turned my focus on writing this first poem that I'd ever make for her. I was serious that I can write a hundred poems just for her, that's how my conviction can go just to make her happy.

I want to see how I can unravel a part of her personality once I hand out the poem I conceived for her, I'm sure she'd love it. I just hope she won't hate my handwriting nonetheless.