A Beautiful, Terrible Love, Lucky 97 [classic romance novels .txt] 📗

cafe, with plush, velvety red pillows lying across the seats and a stylish zebra pattern on the table. Serena was watching me now, waiting for my next words. Her eyes were alert, her attention focused on me.
"I want you to tell me the truth, Serena," I looked her straight in the eye. "Why are you doing this to me?"
She shook violently, suddenly, as if she had been slapped. Her shiny golden dress shimmered as she jolted, a spaghetti strap sliding down her deeply tanned shoulders. She quickly grabbed it and put it back in its place, looking away as she did so.
There was more silence as I clamored to catch her gaze.
"I wanted... and I still do want to, hurt Eve," her throaty whisper reached my ears, making me freeze in shock.
"W-why?" I asked angrily, regretfully. I had tried to forget, with all my might, that I was hurting Eve by being here. That, I suppose, was why I had begun to feel nothing during my imprisonment, to try to mask the pain. The guilt of what I had done... was doing to Eve.
But under no circumstances did I want Eve to find out my secret.
"It... It isn't your place to know!" she suddenly snapped, her eyes drilling into mine, "I have my own reasons."
"Please, Serena," I begged, my emerald eyes tugging at hers. "Please let Eve and I reach happiness."
For that was what it was. Serena was keeping us both from pure elation and joy. She was keeping us from... each other.
She was silent for a second, then a sly, beautiful smile creeped onto her face. "Think about this, Dex," she said slowly, thoughtfully, "Even if you did go back to Eve, and you two loved each other, how would you manage to keep your secret safe? After a while, she might even decide to go back with you to Hollywood, and then your secret would be even more easily revealed. You can't expect to have a happily ever after when such a big secret is kept from the one you love."
I reeled back in shock, my face growing chalk white. What she said was true, and it hurt, a terrible pain in my gut that nearly sent me to my knees.
Even if I met Eve again, I couldn't have a perfect fairy tale ending.
"The best thing for you to do," her slender, silky smooth hands snaking out and resting on mine, "is to forget about her."
I looked away, glancing anywhere but the conniving woman before me. It suddenly had become uncomfortable for me to look into her eager eyes, filled to the brim with cold logic.
"Place me in your heart," she whispered. Her eyes full of hope, veiling carefully her true emotions of hate and revenge, pierced through me. At that moment, Serena almost seemed... humanlike. Her long brown hair rippled in the soft, flowing breeze, her dress shimmering as she shifted to meet my gaze.
Serena stood up, the dress clinging to her bronzed, toned legs. "I'm leaving first to give you some private time. Think on that, okay? I'm sure, after pondering over it for a little while, you will make the right decision," She glided out the door, the chimes' delicate melodies ripping through the quiet air.
A waitress came to my table, holding a small folder in her arms. Placing it in my outstretched hand, she scampered off to help another, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Leave it to Serena to time her exit just perfectly. She, once again, left me with the hefty bill.
I huffed inwardly, irritation searing through me, and took my debit card. With two delicate fingers, I slid it into the clear plastic spot designated for my method of payment.
The coldness of the air seeped into my skin, alerting me, my form twisting so I could peer out of the huge window. It was a beautiful sight, a milieu of rolling mountains, clear blue skies, and crystal waters, the oceans just beyond the peak of the last hill. I could smell it from here, almost tasting the salty sea water that awakened my heart and alerted the soul.
Two silver doves raced across the horizon, circling each other, zooming in various shapes and directions. It was almost as if they were dancing, with the way they gracefully maneuvered through the thick air. But then, their dance concluded and they just flapped about, their majestic white wings the only things suspending them in their current altitude.
Then, suddenly, without warning, one of the birds sped in one direction, the other bird flying the opposite way. I put my firm hands, now soaked with sweat, on the shiny glass as I helplessly watched them walk away from each other, never to meet again.
I realized the strange sweat was all over my clothes, face, and arms... and it wasn't from the heat.
I touched my eyes, nearly gasping when I pulled the soaked fingers away.
I didn't realize that I had been crying.

I scuffed the sidewalk with my impeccable A. Testoni milky brown shoes as I briskly walked over to the nearby coffee shop. It wasn't Starbucks (in Hollywood, it never was a Starbucks), but a gourmet coffee boutique. It was my favorite place to go, its rich coffee aroma swirling around me as soon as I creaked open the door, the employees inside friendly and cute. They were used to celebrities, so it was nice to be treated like normal. I suppose that was what attracted me to this place so much.
In the front of the coffee shop was an old and cracked mahogany door. Surrounding it was plain brick, stained with graffiti and other markings. Two random, cheap chairs lounged about, and a small red carpet sat at the doorstep. This was a disguise to repel normal customers, people who didn't know.
But you were no longer fooled when you walked in.
Hiding behind the drab appearance was a high-class, luxuriant room filled to the brim with expensive furniture and unique paintings and sculptures. A pure, ebony black danced across the tiles, and as it progressed higher towards the ceiling, faded into a stark white. I always loved watching the colors morph into another, a spectacular sight. Modern, interestingly shaped chairs were splayed throughout the comfy chamber, a stainless steel bar in the middle of it all. Circular, it was the real wonder of the whole coffee shop, for underneath the bar was a whole, underground room where they made the drinks. You knew that because as you went closer to it, the floor tiles directly surrounding the bar became glass. So, you could look down as you were ordering, and watch the employees grind the premium coffee beans and make your drink. It was especially cool to see the employees as they step on a miniature "elevator", a circular platform that brought them from the underground room to the counter. As they descended or ascended, you could see their heads and bodies shrinking or growing until they reached their destination.
I stepped up to the ordering line for VIPs (yes, there was two lines), and was immediately introduced to my cashier for the day. A tall, skinny blonde with big eyes and pouty lips smiled at me temptingly as I greeted her. "Hello," I said, my grin not quite reaching my eyes. She seemed almost like the kind of girl I would've dated... before I met a certain brunette.
"Hey," her voice was even seductive, her words flowing like molasses, smooth and as sweet as honey, "What would you like today?"
What I needed now was some strong coffee that would keep me alive for the next hour. "An espresso macchiato please," I ordered quickly, pulling out my wallet. It was different from my usual latte, but I thought that I needed it.
"Coming right up, Mr. Dex," she took my twenty dollar bill, depositing it in the sleek and smooth cash register, handing me back some meager change. Normally, this would be the time where I would grab her hand and say, "Call me Dex"-it was stupid to call me Mr. Dex; I didn't even have a last name- but I wasn't in the mood right now.
What was wrong with me?
She descended into the kitchen, leaving me puzzled. Where did my flirtatious skills go? Or, rather, what happened to my interest? Somehow, her attractiveness didn't reach me, her raw seductiveness not affecting me at all. It was strange, but not unfamiliar to me, this feeling of zero interest. I encountered it every day when I was forced to be by Serena's side, a girl even more attractive than this blonde, when all I could think about was the girl hundreds of miles away, probably swimming in the lake or daydreaming at school.
I waltzed over to an empty table, away from the loud, chattering voices. Wearily, I plopped down on a chair, my head overflowing with strange thoughts that I had tried to push back during these three long weeks. Pain struck me, her face the only thing I could picture in my mind. It was terrible... the misery. I couldn't bear it.
Magazines were sitting gracefully in a stack on the table, and to stop the hurt, I picked them up and began leafing through them. Pictures of my friends, or people I thought were my friends, filled the covers, their revealing outfits snagging their audiences' attention. They couldn't do it though. No matter how distracting they were supposed to be, they couldn't stop the terrible pain.
Is this how it was going to be? For the rest of my life, was I going to have to suffer this badly?
I threw them back on the table, many falling onto the polished floor. The laughter and the babble of the other customers hid the thump, hid the scandalous actions I was committing. For that one moment, I was glad for the noise, grateful that it hid the temporary insanity that was eating me whole.
I got up quickly to pick up the disgraced magazines, placing them back on the table where they belonged. A single one draped over a chair, and I cautiously went to grab it. However, when I retrieved it, another issue caught my eye, sitting delicately on the table beside it.
A thick, collector’s edition of Vogue jumped out at me, mainly because she was lounging on the cover.
Her thick, voluminous hair tumbled past her shoulder in rivers, ending just at her lower back. It was crimped a little, not curly, and perfectly framed her oval shaped face. Her big, blue eyes sparkled, enhanced a little by Photoshop, a clear azure blue that resembled the ocean that I loved so much. Her lips were a light pink, eyelashes a deeper black than normal, coated with some natural mascara. Her face and skin was perfect, clear of any pimple, a little tanned from the last time I had seen her. Her dress was truly magnificent, a creamy baby blue color that accented her eyes, with thin straps and a loose gathering at the bust. It was tight around her waist, emphasizing her hourglass figure, then became less restricting around the hips. It ended just above the knee, the flaring skirt cutting off abruptly, an old fashioned petticoat, layers and layers of white lace that puffed out the bottom part of the dress, clearly shown underneath. Her sandals, a dull silver, had laces that wound up to her knees, almost like the fashions in roman times. It truly was an unique and beautiful dress that fit an unique and beautiful person.
S he seemed to be smiling at me, her white teeth glinting in the camera's flash, her eyes looking directly out from the page into mine.