Chapter 8: Reminiscing Gunshots

Miguel was having a chat with the guy in the counter, while I was preventing myself to look at them. Finally, my clothes were done that took almost forever. After I pulled out my clothes, I quickly went to a secluded spot and changed my outfit.

My uniform that was once stained with blood and dirt was now freshly cleaned up by that washer. Wasn't it just great? Now my only problem was how to get out of here without Miguel recognizing me in this fucked up state. Probably because I had a band-aid beside my right eye and a growing bruise on my cheek. I didn't want to face him in this state.

Hesitating, I stepped my foot outside and left the shirt and jeans inside and tried to walk slowly towards the door. Unfortunately, my stupid knee suddenly hit a basket of an old woman, making her clothes scattered on the ground. Shit.

"Watch it, kid!" the old woman exclaimed, wobbling. She slowly stood up her seat and picked up pieces of clothes laying on the floor. I helped her clean up, ignoring the fact that I just drew everyone's attention to us.

"Hey ma'am, let me help you," a man's voice suddenly spoke as he crouched behind me, picking the clothes on the ground.

My mind was totally distracted. I was trying my best to look away from him so he wouldn't notice me but it was just impossible. The woman was probably frowning at me right now, wrinkling her forehead from my carelessness.

I stood up from crouching and quickly moved my way to the door without a glimpse. I was about to pull it open when I heard Miguel called my name.

"Lala, wait," he called from behind, walking towards me.

With my nervous state, I slowly turned my back to face him and smiled sheepishly.

"Miguel. . ." the only thing that came out of my mouth. He stood there with his tall figure, wearing a jet black t-shirt, a thin silver necklace hanging around his neck, and black baggy sweatpants.

He examined my face, not quite long before he noticed something strange. From the way my hair cascaded messily down my waist, a uniform that wasn't worn properly, and a beaten-up face that looked so florid. Concern filled his beautiful eyes and he held my arm.

"Did something happen to you?" he worriedly asked, looking down my eyes.

"I'm totally fine. Something went up and I got myself into a little fight," I lied, plastering a plastic smile. "What are you doing here?" I asked instead to change the topic. He glanced at the boy in the counter and returned his gaze at me.

"I came to visit a friend and it's a coincidence to see you here," he answered. He looked down at my hands and saw my swollen knuckles before giving me a skeptical look. "Lala, what happened to you?" he added.

His gentle voice eased my nervousness a bit. I ran my hand behind my neck and smiled hesitantly. My mind continued to think about what I should say to escape the conversation.

"I. . ." I stuttered. "I have to go," I added and immediately went outside.

As the embarrassing moment flashed in my mind, I couldn't help but put my hand on my forehead and grimace in disgust. My feet quickly moved towards my car, as the night breeze blew on my skin, causing the hair behind my neck to rise

I was so embarrassed. He was just too attractive, and all I could do was stare at him blankly. He seemed so familiar to the point where I got to wonder where we exactly met. Somehow it didn't matter. I had never been so bothered about guys and he was really giving me a weird feeling.

"Hey," a sudden voice spoke from behind, causing me to turn my back as he grabbed my hand and turned me around. I came face to face with Miguel again, with that million-dollar smile.

His warm hands caused butterflies in my stomach and heat started to form on my cheeks. What was he doing?

"I was just wondering if we could go grab some coffee?" he asked hesitantly, clasping his hands together.

My eyes widened and heat started to burst out of my face. I immediately looked away and hid the blush that was starting to form on my cheeks. I had no idea what he was doing to me. The way he sent electricity while we talk, it was quite odd.

"That sounds great," I responded sheepishly, pulling out my car remote in my pocket.

"Is that your car?" he asked, pointing at the white Benz behind me.

I glanced at my car and laid my hand on the roof before responding, "Yeah. I just bought it two days ago."

"That's nice." He smiled.

Then an awkward silence filled the gap between us, and I was so lost in my thoughts because I was exhausted. My mind just hung in the air.

Suddenly, Miguel beckoned me to go with him along the road and I immediately complied.

It was too cold outside and the atmosphere was pretty quiet. It was already night time and people were starting to diminish in this area. We were currently strolling along the path to the coffee shop near the parking lot, and I felt amazing with him. After all the drama that came up a while ago, the fight that raged in that chaos, he kind of made me forget all those crap, to be honest.

I wasn't used to being around guys my age-- unlike most girls-- that's why I acted so awkward towards them. It was quite funny how I stuttered around Miguel and he acted like it was normal. I kind of felt like a teenager again, and the freedom I had been longing for was finally here. I was finally making progress by surrounding myself with new people.

"So. . . what happened to you, Lala?" Miguel asked this question again for the third time, breaking the silence between us. Was he really that concerned?

"Well, I'm really okay, Miguel, nothing to worry about." I chuckled and smiled at him. He looked me in the eyes with his chocolate ones that was filled with concern.

"I'm actually worried about you. You are hurt and I can see it." He pointed to my left cheek as we continued to walk.

I needed to come up with a believable lie or else he wouldn't stop being too nosy about it.

"Okay so I had a boxing training a while ago and this happened," I lied and shrugged. He looked at me again, frown formed on his face.

"But you told me in the laundry shop that you got into a little fight, right?" He furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "C'mon Lala, if someone hurt you, I swear they need to pay. Girls always have to be protected," he said, sending back a memory that was once too cloudy to reminisce. Now it all made sense how every time I look at him, it was all so familiar.

Oh my god. . . wasn't. . . wasn't he the guy that saved me back when I was fifteen?