A Bit of Nothing Ch. 10 [Hiatus]

Author's Note/Chatter (skip if you prefer):

I have come to the point where the creative/inspiration juices have run out, and thus, I've reached the great 'Writer's Block.' This is straight out of my word processor. It is no longer checked for technical precision or excellence. I've also reached that point of stagnation to what we call a 'soup' state. And since I've written this here, I might as well put all of the possible disclaimer I can gather.

Disclaimer: I am an ESL speaker. My writing is amateur. So, anything written here with a lot of grammatical errors/unnatural way of expression/awkward phrasing; yes, that was me. And yes, the writing quality could be 'meh', which is fine by me. I didn't sign up for the volunteer editors program as of now since I really just want to let it all out ASAP.

In addition, I've had a superficial knowledge about my setting and did only a good amount of digital exposure rather than scholarly research. There's a probability that I could have made mistakes here and there. I'll take responsibility if one who actually lives at this real life-setting could point out any misrepresentations or inaccuracies. My sincere apologies if it ever occurs.

I was about to turn off the voting and comments since my goal is to story dump and treat it with some sort of experimental exploration, but to turn these off would mean limiting the ability of the readers to express themselves. You have every freedom, especially those who took their precious time to complete this reading even though it's as raw drafted as it can go. Your engagement and these quiet interactions matter because the next time I'm putting something out here regardless of how oddly niche, kitsch or foreign it might get, means that my work doesn't exist in the internet vacuum.

There, I might as well say it. I'm putting this story on a hiatus for a lot of reasons: first, I've got burnt-out. A bottleneck has beaten me out of my brief concentration until it brought me back to reality. Second, the overall story is too premature, which leaves many things to be fleshed out. This then could lead to heavy revisions later on. And lastly, I could be busy (for a significant amount of time and might log in occasionally to visit and/or I might focus on a different story instead).

However the case may be so, this overall story is ideally projected to be around 17-20 chapters. Next releases consist of chapters up to its ending. For now, I thank you for taking the time.

***

Chapter 10

Mike Sanditon

"Mike dear, would you mind reaching the ranch over the table?"

Mrs. Hollifield asked me in her raspy voice. Reclined on the lifted hospital bed after she was stirred awake for her check-ups, Mrs. Hollifield's eyes made lazy blinks when she was also called for her lunch.

"Now, this brings back memories." She chuckled when I handed her what she asked. Her frail hands move slowly when she prepares her food and chews them languidly.

She looked up, her gray eyes were far from languid but clear from gaiety and easy-manner. The curls straying away from her graying brunette hair bobbed when she turned from the television and looked at me again with a brief, cordial smile. "The strong scent of hygiene couldn't put an ambience to my lunch." She faintly chuckled once more. "What time is it?"

"12:12," I replied after looking over my wrist-watch.

Mrs. Hollifield let out a good-natured sigh and took another bite. It wasn't long before I checked her and her IV fluids. It was still over half full. Her vital stats were normal, and her health it seems is doing just fine. Her back crouches from natural aging, but she still looks alert. "You know..."

My attention paused when I took one of her arms to monitor her blood pressure. She has pale features, and the movement of her wrinkled skin have fair-toned freckles sprinkled like powder all over it.

"Before I married my husband, he used to bring me into this restaurant that screams like summer in its hearth, even though you barely get a sun in February." She made a hearty laugh, and I joined in.

"Quite right, Mrs. Hollifield," I said.

"I used to wear my Sunday dress and let my shoulders be exposed once I got into that restaurant." Mrs. Hollifield motioned her other arm for emphasis. "I would remove my thick jacket of course, but then my man insists that he does so," she murmured then winked.

I chuckled and gave a responding smile as I carried on to pump the sphygmomanometer wrapped around her before my focus sets in.

Mrs. Hollifield also carried on after a brief pause on what I did. "That was back in '79, we're dating in college, you see." She grinned, and shook her head. "I'll never forget that day when I could smell the restaurant's chips and smoke. Unfortunately, dear, they've closed that place."

Mrs. Hollifield's blood pressure was normal, so I removed the stethoscope out of my ear, and tore the cuff from her before I replied, "That's such a loss, Mrs. Hollifield, I hope I get to try their meals." I mean, if she has reviews on that place with such a vivid memory, the food must've been good.

Her cheerfulness made her let out another chuckle even as she put a hand briefly on my arm out of her mood. "That is indeed a sorry, young man. You have a date to take with you?" She smiled in anticipation.

I affirmed her through a brief nod.

"Oh." Mrs. Hollifield's eyes widened in mild discovery. "Quite so, quite so," her voice trailed off as her head bent slightly down, delving into her thoughts. She looked up eventually. "Perhaps Martin knows a place as good as that," she suggested, referring to her husband. "Let me ask him when he visits. When do you think he'll come?"

"As he usually does, Mrs. Hollifield. Right off this instant." I packed my equipment back and wrote on my paper for this day's check-ups, which came right on time when Mr. Hollifield knocked on the door with fresh flowers on one hand. It was 12:30 when he arrived, carrying along some take-out meals on his other hand.

Mr. Hollifield wore a brown fur jacket that seemed to puff him into a good wrap. The upcoming fall seems to have made its way early this month, which reminds me to put on my car's heater as a priority.

"Martin, do you remember our hot spot back in college? Mike wanted to try some of their food, but I told him they've closed," says Mrs. Hollifield.

I turned with raised eyebrows for such a call. "Oh, it's perfectly fine, Mrs. Hollifield."

Mrs. Hollifield tuts. "Dear, if you were to ask, where do you think is a good place as close to that?" Mrs. Hollifield looked up to his husband. Mr. Hollifield meanwhile made a considerable sound of thought. "He should bring his girlfriend with him too," Mrs. Holliefield added.

"Try Bay City, young man," Mr. Hollifield said, looking up at me quickly when an idea crossed his mind immediately. "Take her this summer."

Mrs. Hollifield made a weak clap of hands. "Oh! Yes, in Bay City." Her eyes flickered alive. "We did try some snacks there, it is just as good," she endorsed.

Mr. Hollifield sat near Mrs. Hollifield, in contrast to his wife's hospital gown, he removed his fur coat and hung it behind a chair to reveal a man in a long sleeved top in simple jeans. Mrs. Hollifield smiled brightly at me and at her husband.

"You make me want to check out a bucket list fast, Mrs. Hollifield." I chuckled. "Now, I'm thrilled."

Then the both of them gushed me further for details and the entire food trip that they suggested I must go into. It took me more minutes to absorb this information altogether before I'll make another nursing round.

That was my newer duty when Katarina pretty much influenced my decision to change assignments. This assignment put me into an in-house routine rather than what I used to with Kat's father. So far, I tend to travel along the view of Devils Lake on my every schedule.

It was a forty-five minute drive. Everytime I think about this, it always comes to question whether I've allowed myself to be influenced or if it was indeed my choice. Like many more decisions I made when my father asked if I would want to manage his properties here in Michigan.

I talked to Ellie, and despite knowing our relationship could stay in the way, I still chose to take this path, losing her in return. It wasn't only my father's real estate if you ask me. This is where I spend my summer holidays. Those days are reminiscent of my own first times. My first kayaking moment was at Lake Superior when Papa brought us on a trip when I was seven. When I've gotten a bit older, I'm one of the reckless kids who would push Oliver at Sleeping Bear Dunes and race back to push the lagger down once more. We've even got scolded for involving a daycare Matty that time.

There were long summers, so were winter storms. Teeming with wildlife and tall pines from the north going down south of the state. I kinda grew up here. Just as someone is familiar with their own roads, rhythms and all of that stuff, so was it for me. So settling here after high school wasn't a big decision, but rather, a natural one. Perhaps, losing Ellie comes with its own regrets as a part of it.

I live the day-to-day beat of my own county. The national parks, the lake and the neighborhood, I've involved myself in them to the point it bores me if I have nothing else to do. College was pretty much expected, I considered first a social work but I already did have a routine of it. So I tried nursing both for science and more importantly, to have people hang around even if they were at a hospital. Guess I'm much more of an extrovert after anything else.

At that time, I was dating Jessica. She's into a pre-med degree related to academia, that ends up with her hooking up a thesis advisor. It was an 'ope, didn't see that coming' sort of embarrassing moment the both of us were dragged in. She apologized afterwards, but it can be quite awkward as hell even when she's hot.

After college, it was the same, I never took any assignments that could cause a conflict to my schedule on the activities I'm involved with. Homecoming, forest ranger monitoring and outreach programs are among these activities I have to pay attention to as a volunteer.

"So you've had a patient now closer to your home, which is... The reason you agreed on my children's school commission to be their tour guide? Did I get that right?" Rosana once asked me after I stopped to buy groceries.

"Yep," I said. "The new owners of that recently bought house from the Crouses? It is said that they're from New York." I asked.

Rosana nodded, adjusting her curls behind her ears when they strayed. She was scanning the grocery items when she spoke in a somber voice. "The Nievezes," she opened. "I came to know one of their children, Katarina."

Which took me by surprise. "You mean, the one who looks after my patient?"

She raised her eyebrows in agreement. "She shops around here by daily walks more often than anybody who lives in this neighborhood."

Which is a wonder, and weird 'cause why on earth does she prefer walking? She could've driven. These were the earlier times that I've actually gotten to know her more than the very beginnings that I've met her though.

During those beginnings, I've only known her as Miss Nievez. Her father had us introduce in the same way you might know by now, ever since his condition had gotten worse. Miss Nievez is quite reserved more than anyone can notice. She barely smiles, very curt in her social niceties and most of the time, lost.

I couldn't test the waters on how I should typically approach and interact with her comfortably. When I did, she would drop the conversation as soon as it was brought up and carried on to exist in utter silence. Which can be quite excruciatingly awkward. Yet, there's that sense that she's closed off.

Katarina Nievez is not jaw-drop stunning but rather feminine in her own right. She has a round face and a small jaw. A petite below-the-chest-level gal whose medium skin tone makes a flawless chocolate brown shade. She has round eyes like her father, and thick lips that she also took from him. The rest are attributed to her mother when I first saw Mrs. Nievez in person. But despite the warm brown doe-eyes Katarina possesses, she sees nothing among those she considers as others.

It is unsettling to see a bright and vibrant feature coming off her when it comes to her father, but immediately shuts it down when it wasn't him. It almost tries to make you feel the stark difference of preferential treatment she casts on those who pleases her.

I didn't try that obviously.

Mr. Nievez is an easy-going man. He has his way with light-hearted humor and the never ending curiosity to a newer place set for him. I used to drive them by, and whenever I tried to glance at the rear mirror, Katarina would have her arms crossed staring at the window like the world never existed around her.

She's that distant. Almost detached, and those eyes that are cheerful are gone for nothing but an empty stare into space.

It gets under me in such a way that how can someone switch off their personality that quick. There are times when I'd like to ask her if she's okay, but she comes off as if she doesn't want to be bothered at any moment now. She convincingly framed herself as someone who can be unapproachable.

"How about a try, Kat?" Mr. Nievez asked excitedly behind him.

Kat. Hmm... Interesting. In some sense, there's a little glimpse behind that hostile aura when Mr. Nievez calls her like that. "That sounded lovely for your girl's name, Mr. Nievez," I remarked.

"Can I actually use your own shotgun instead, perhaps straight to your wild skull?" She hissed sharply.

That took me aback, I wasn't able to respond accordingly from such a verbal attack. Fortunately, her father called her and she behaved as she should. That was the very first time I've seen her express something so unguarded like that. Most of her interactions with me are measured, disinterested and often as if she's bored. Then, she would completely ignore me when opportunity comes.

I'm not insecure about social validation or regard in that manner, but to be directly treated this way makes me ask if there's something I did wrong. What makes it more confusing is how every time I catch her unaware, the flicker in her eyes comes into full focus like the gazes I've received in every interested woman.

I couldn't really tell if she's playing games or if she's just weird.

"Daddy! Kat-Kat. It's me, Kat-Kat," she squealed when she ran to her father whose memories were wiped in another instance of uncertainty.

Katarina Nievez is not weird, she just plays like it. I figured that maybe the way she truly looks at someone was with how she sees her father. Yet, by the time we drove through and she clings to him in silent labored breaths, I'll just convince myself soon enough that I didn't suffer with a savior complex and saw her as a damsel in distress that time.

She cared. She's not apathetic, what she does is more than a matter of indifference down to her core. She cared to the point anything she held dear can get very lethal once threatened. Maybe she saw me as a threat every now and then.

"It's fair play. You can call me Mike or Michael. In return, I'd like to call you something simpler. Besides, I prefer Kat," I said, driving ahead with a sense of satisfaction. Finally, she comes with a bit of life in her. Hostile, true. But expressive with herself compared to the closed off hard shell she was used to, that I even have to second guess on how I interact with her.

"Free rides, Mike? Tempting," her tone flirts. Then, I saw it. I fuckin' knew it, she's into me. But why the fuck so? Wasn't she so bored when I talked with her?

What's going on?

When night came and Rosana's party was up after my shift, I took a short stop in Detroit when some of my college dudes urged me to grab some beer at an inn with this huge ass television for the ongoing NFL season.

"Come over to Ann Arbor, bro. This year's our homecourt," Ethan gurgled next to me in his tipsy seat on the bar's counter. He crouched while sipping his beer instead of actually watching the match as he intended.

My forehead furrowed. "Nah, man. You've been an alum for years now."

"Come on, man," Ethan urged. His mouth clicked. "I'm tryin' to cop the vibe here. Ya know all that lockdown and shit," he told me.

We actually didn't have a wholesome experience around the campus when the pandemic happened. It stole us some of our senior year, that's why he puts it like that. Though, I'm still not buying it. He was once drafted during our freshman year, he had two games until lockdown happened. For now, he seems to be going well with his current career in engineering.

"Whatchu be doin' there, anyway?" I probed further.

Ethan, this time, has an expression lifted into that knowing grin before he gives a guy-coded wink. "Chicks."

I groaned and exasperated my head in motion. "Fuck that, Ethan," I said, before returning my attention on him. "You're hitting those college girls five years behind you?"

"Man," Ethan said in a long sigh. He took a big gulp on his beer and asked for a refill before he turned to me in a growing bloodshot eyes. "It isn't bad if the girl is willin', y'know."

"Like what? You'd stay there to watch the game and do an after-party with a college chick?"

"Chicks, bro. Plural," he corrected, grinning. "I want an orgy."

I made an exasperated sound out of my mouth. "Pass. But I'll catch up if I can after this party I'm going to."

"Where's that?" He juts his chin.

"City boomers, a birthday party for kids. Wanna come?"

"Bye, Felicia." A reply only this guy could ever come up with.

"A'right." I got up and paid my bills. "See ya 'round."

I didn't drink much around Ethan, but with the sudden recall that I'm going to a party, I ended up stopping by a convenience store just in case I needed some packs of something to bring.

"Michael Sanditon! Are you eating? How rude!"

What can I say? I forgot my dinner on the way here when Ethan called. Beats me.

"Why'd you call?" I asked.

"I don't know how to drive," she murmured.

My chewing stopped. For real? This girl acts so much like a spitfire but can't drive? Oh shit, I laughed. But oh... no wonder she walks to Rosana's for groceries every time.

So, she can ask for help sometimes, huh? Those invincible walls couldn't beat someone who needs a lift.

"No way... shit." I can't hide my amusement. "It's not that far from town. Oh, Kat--"

She hung up. But my amused face didn't really go away from that info. You could tease that girl for being helpless even if she puts up an attitude. I got her on that one.

I whistled when I checked her out. "You're looking fine," I said when I got my way back picking her up. I was about to run through our neighborhood as I was going to Rosana's place anyway. In which, I had to deal first with a prelude to her fussiness when it comes to her 'ruined make-up' and attitude. Sure, she got her tits out while pissed as fuck as she flipped a finger at me, but she carried her look as if she's comfortable with her own skin.

"Useless boyfriends," she mutters under her breath. Excuse me? When did she ever become interested in having a boyfriend? But considering that what she wore would totally attract any eager male around, and the determined gaze she has ahead of us, she could be looking for one right now.

She could be looking anywhere except what's around. "Okay, where did that come from? And what about boyfriends? Kat, are you interested?" I smirked. "Is this you hitting me now? Or..." I could try this one out. I got cheeky. "Are you saying something nice to me for once? Hey, I'm not lazy. Just count the hours I'm spending doing you this favor."

"I meant your outfit, okay? How could I hit on you? You know what, I'm thinking you're off-limits. Sorry, boy, I'll place my hopes elsewhere," she shuts down, like she always does.

"Huh?" I blurted.

Seriously, just what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I made a dismissive shrug internally, whatever.

That ride, if not the most chaotic mood-swinging moment, is the closest one I've got the chance to talk to her in that real manner. When we got to Rosana's party, where I brought my drinks with me, I saw Ricky and my forest ranger buddy to have come along.

"'Sup?" My buddy raised his hand once I got the packs of my beer down. He gave me a firm clasp and a shoulder bump.

"Good," I told him. "How 'bout you? Any updates from the monitoring duties?"

He gave his head a slight tilt. "Nada, man. As it was."

"Ay, Mikey," Ricky's voice approached. "Filling out the missing punch." He gave me a quick fist bump. "My wife didn't forget Rosie had some grill in 'ere. I brought us some beer snacks." He scratched his tongue in excitement.

"Damn nice, Ricky," I marveled. "Whatcha got?"

"Barbeque, marinated by me," he flexed.

"Or your wife," I butt in. "Didn't you mention it just now?" I jokingly jabbed at him.

"Nah." Ricky shook his head, unaffected and secured it seems. "I spiced it real hot when it comes to homies and grill, Mike. You'll see it once you have 'em smokin'."

"You got it, Ricky." I rubbed my hands. "Gimme those sticks, I'm grillin'." He got me hungry for more than that hotdog Katarina called me out earlier for.

It's good ass booze and chill under the pretense of a kids party. Hey, I like Ricky's barbeque in the middle of the evening. Even the roll of the cool beer in my throat mixes up with his level of spice. City boomers block for the win on this one.

My ranger buddy let out a long sound from his drink. "Packers almost got us last year, doncha think?"

Both Ricky and I turned. But it was Ricky who was quick to react. "I always sleep tight when it comes to Lions, man. But last year was a good hell of a shit. Three fuckin' points."

We murmured an agreed sound in unison. "Which reminds me, I saw the Chiefs on TV, and heard 'bout a homecourt game in Ann Arbor, are we playin' homecourt against them this year?"

The two answered in noncommittal uncertainty. "Haven't heard it yet," says my ranger buddy.

I stayed longer before I became aware of Katarina's departure that time when I went to ask Rosana.

"The girl took the bother to wash some dishes after she's gone to her friends 'clubbing' she says in Ann Arbor," Rosana said.

That seemed a coincidence, Ethan also invited me to go there. I think I might as well go, and offer that girl some lift if I ever crossed paths around her in that city. It was supposed to be an easy drive for me, but when the breeziness of my mind had sobered, it made me have some thoughts. I was thinking about the tall trees that cover mostly the road that night, with my headlights shedding visibility by a scope but beyond it was a great unknown of darkness. Speaking of coincidence, what if I never stumbled on her tonight, and she doesn't know how to drive? Isn't she her father's caretaker? Her father is my patient too.

My eyes wandered around, and found under the dashboard a wash bag filled with cosmetics that only Katarina could have. This thought brought me to chagrin, since I was assigned to her father's day shift for me to even think about this. It would be nice if I didn't know Katarina's father better. How was he now being alone at their house? Fuck. That time, I had three reasons to go to Ann Arbor. Ethan, the homecourt match and to fetch back my patient's daughter.

The game was over. I didn't know who won, but I saw Ethan partying next to happy college freshmen chicks. God forbid. "Have you ever seen a brown chick by chance?" I shouted inside the club.

"Huh?" Ethan replied, drawing his ear closer. "I got brunettes," he shouts against the loud volume.

I rolled my head away. "Go home, Ethan," I said when I returned my attention to him. "You're dead ass drunk. I pray to God you're not drivin' yourself."

"I'm bringin' some capable chicks with me," he retorts. "They'll drive.'

"Better be a real shit!" I shot back. "They should drive hard and fast while riding you deep into the night!"

Seeing how a hammered Ethan acts, I let him drink more until he's passed out before tipping someone I knew around Ann Arbor to drop him off at a hotel. That's the closest safety measure he can get. I left him afterwards until I bumped across Jasmine, a former fling at another club.

"Hey..." She greeted me in that sultry voice. She seems to take a part-time job bartending around this place. "Hi, Mike. It's unusual to see 'round here." Jasmine let out a perfect smile screaming invitation. Blonde, and pretty with a sly personality. This girl knows how to ball.

"Hey, Jaz," I greeted before taking a slow scan of her body. She giggled. Hot and fine piece. She oozes a strong sex appeal from her eyes to her mouth you'd shove yours in it 'til she gag. As a waitress or a bartender, she had the plump firm tits hunched up to create a fine view. Her low neckline perfectly shows the smooth lining of her hugged tight cleavage you'd fantasize to titty-fuck someday. Tried it, and she's good. "By chance, you saw some small chick with brown skin and a potty mouth?" I asked her.

Jasmine lifted the corner of her lips before turning around with those pretty eyes. She presented her back, the curve and that beautiful protrusion from the flare of her hips. That round ass just before the toned long legs. Just my type.

"Jaz, lemme say this, you stir my cock to life. But shit I've got priorities these days, I wish I could bang you," I said, shaking my head while I sat on the counter.

She giggled before handing me a beer. "We could do a quickie."

"Won't do it for now, pretty girl. Or I'd lose my head and rent a room for a night."

"Why not?" She teased.

I asked for another drink and took it in one go before looking at Kate Moss' face. "I've got a patient, you see. She's running loose around your premises. I could get fired."

Yeah, if they found out I picked her up from their home but didn't come back whole and alive. I'd be her likely suspect. Jasmine sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're such a loss, Mike. You're too young to be serious, loosen up too," she chides. "You're wasting your hotness."

My throat bursted a chuckle. "Thanks, I guess." Then asked another drink. "But have you ever seen her here? She wore this titty exposed top with sequin all over which nothing spells more than disco."

She chuckled while fixing the counter drinking glasses. "I saw someone whose dress is unusual with the climate," she replied, pausing her next words, she slowed, "however... she tagged a man with a slender body behind her, over there." She pointed to the place outside on the left.

I had two urges that time when alcohol shed my inhibition. It is either to get out soon while sober or ask Jasmine for a reunion. I chose the first one because it's easier to finish things. I was about to leave the club when a group of girls circled near the door exit.

"You won't believe this but Katarina will get herself laid," one girl shared among her friends before looking over her phone.

"Mmhmm. Guess all that grind finally paid off," another girl added.

I turned around and drew myself into their circle. "Hi, excuse me. Would you mind if I asked you some questions? I'm also looking for someone with a name like Katarina," I butt in.

This group of girls had their concentration stolen, as they breathed in and gave me a slow up and down look. "For a cold climate, Midwestern boys can be sizzlin' hot," another girl glibbed.

I tried to chuckle and charm my way out to gain some information. "Hey, I'm Mike," I said, before introducing myself to them.

One girl fanned herself until I got to know them as Katarina's friends that fetched her from Rosana's.

"I'm her father's nurse," I shared. "I have day shifts at their home today but she's unavailable, I need to talk to her."

They looked at each other. "How come Katarina wastes her time to not get laid fine and bed-ridden?" Spoken in a not really hushed whisper. The girls giggled. Me, meanwhile, has to smile in a way.

"Uh-huh," said one of them when she turned to face me. "I believe she contracted some flirtation, sir." She winked.

I chuckled and graciously tipped my head. "May I attend to it?"

"Katarina, you hoe," says one girl in mock restraint. "Why the hell does she get all the fine guys? I didn't come all the way from New York to this?"

"I could introduce you to some of my friends," I consoled.

Yeah. His name is Ethan.

They called Katarina, and she was heard on the other end of the line a bit too excited. "Whoever that fine guy was, he had a vanilla accent compared to what I have now. Y'all can have him!" And gave out a triumphant laughter.

I learned some of her whereabouts, while I got to call my frat senior boys whom I used to know during their freshman year. Setting them up for these girls. "We got some East Coast chicks over here. Come on up," I said to one of them over the phone. After goading them in their still sobriety, I turned to the girls. "Alright, ladies. I gotta keep my rounds for this duty. Bye," I said, and winked.

"How many rounds though? All night?" asks one girl to her friend before they laughed.

"Bye, Mike," they said in unison anyway.

My feet dragged me to walk on, until I heard some giggle around the park. My ears perked 'cause I've heard that particular pitch of voice at a very specific place. I drew nearer and saw two people making out.

Sure, shove my poor timing with Jasmine right at my face. Go on.

But irony came into full force when I recognized the disruptor of my chance with Jasmine is the same one who makes up this envious make-out session. I scoffed.

Alright. So this is where my concern had been off to, huh? I crossed my arms and leaned into the lamp post. These two seemed unaware of what's going around them.

When Katarina rode that man, I smirked. So I guessed correctly after all. But when that man started suckling her breasts that Katarina seemed to enjoy she had lost herself, my focus landed on the man's mouth. How easy for him to deal with that chit on second base. And how recently I've got to have her entire attention before she has her eyes elsewhere.

She's into me, isn't she? Or maybe not. She's into me first! I couldn't even figure mine because of her difficulty.

A vicious strike came at my impulse. It took a split second to visualize tearing them apart and punching the man's lips. Fuck, that's mental. I watched, still challenging where this session is going.

"Katarina." My voice spoke before I knew it.

Mine!

Focus, Mike. What the fuck are you talking about? Creep.

My hands are faintly shaking because my mind is about to explode from the flood of these intrusive thoughts.

That attention when she tried to hit on me, on our way to Rosana's, her warm-doe eyes, sharp mouth and tongue, isn't it meant for me? What's with that Frederic man? Did she treat you like I did? Fuckin' pay me some attention like him! I've put up more than what he did.

"And would you slow down? Calm the fuck down! Who are you trying to kill, us both? This gains you nothing, Mike!"

Shit, what? I sobered up. Goddamn it. I've almost lost my cool, she had every right to go after what she wants. What the hell, Mike? You're acting like an ass.

"Why not? Couldn't it be?" I asked. Now that I've fend those irrational thoughts, isn't she looking for some handy European boyfriend or something? "You're trying to meet new people, right? You seemed to enjoy his company."

"I have no use for men other than their warm dicks and the performance skills that come along with them." She said with such an ease and cool it's disorienting.

What the fuck.

So your hot and coldness and your interested gaze has something to do with that all along?

"So," her tongue rolled, "if you're offering... I could have yours? How about it? Back at my place? Mix business with pleasure?"

"Shut up," I replied before my ears winced from the way she put it.

"Are you sure?" She gave me that wry smile. Her true colors finally showed up. "I heard you usually go for blondes, but why not try something... different?"

So this is her after all.

Jasmine could say she wants me for a fuck, but at least she's happy to ask me out. This girl...

I looked at her, and saw the same confidence to give interest to you like Jasmine. But Katarina's? Is injected with something poisonous you would be left lifeless. Jasmine's eyes are Playboy bunny naughtiness. In Katarina's, however, they're watchful to see you drain without flinching.

"I could pull over right now, drag you into the back seat, and fuck you senseless, if that's what you want to hear," I told her. She can be hot herself without everybody telling her. "Maybe fuck that bitchiness right out of you until you're too satisfied to move."

"Talking dirty now, are we? Why don't we start with you doing me?" She countered.

Yeah, probably have her all fours and pound the shit out of my frustrations at her. She'd be lying helpless, moaning and writhing while pinned under me. For what? She'd laugh and milk me afterwards, to which I wouldn't figure who actually took someone. Will it be me or her?

It would be her.

She'll lick at my cum with those cold eyes that screams a 'warm dick' and 'perfomance', treated me nothing more but a fuck machine. This girl is dangerous. She can fuck up your mind and balls to get what she wants out of you.

"Kat, if circumstances were different... if things were better than they are right now... I'm pretty sure we could have a good time," I told her.

If we didn't meet like in a patient-staff relationship, if I knew her in a way like Frederic without seeing too much burden she carries herself with by taking care of her father, and felt her energy during our ride to Rosana, maybe we could've been good friends. We could've tagged along.

She didn't say anything afterwards. I guess she's back being a recluse she didn't even bother to look back when she left my car door open to leave.

I sighed quietly as I left their place. Oh, woman. I've seen more than what you're willing to show. It could've been why she's being difficult. I've gained better understanding through that time on why she chose to see no one else. I'm only surprised it reached her core.

After that I hit Jasmine to get off some steam. We had a raunchy fuck. Hit that full ass and cushioned pussy like a hot blanket. And Jasmine nailed her shit. Body rolled to lean down, her back curved, ass-raised on the hotel's sofa. She lifts that long leg to open the curtain of her gaping slits and throbbing pinkish clit. Hanging low the puckered pebbles of those well-rounded tits.

What a fuckin' sight when she turned to me and smiled. "Well? What're you waiting for?" She hushed.

Ah, I went deep and grabbed a piece of that ass. I pumped those plump tits, and ran my hand to the silky sweat of her ambrosiac skin down the narrow curve of her waist to brace myself, filling her to the brim. 'Til my mind dissipates to something so good. We took it out all night. I had a good sleep and mood on the succeeding days of that weekend. When weekdays came, I met my ranger buddy for monitoring duties.

Several days later I met Mrs. Nievez, who Katarina frequently ignores. It seems it's becoming Katarina's attitude in general. She's on her usual closed-off much starker self, going to places anywhere but us.

"I'm sorry you have to perform another unpaid service, Michael," Katarina chimes, postured in her usual crossed arms disinterest. "Ricky's on vacation."

"Not a big deal, Kat." I crouched to observe their house's electrical wiring. Damn, it looks old. The Crouses did them backhanded on this one. Gotta ask Ricky some time.

"Where are they vacationing?" I asked.

"Why'd you ask? You plan to tag along?"

This girl...

Talking with her these days, I've got to feel she can pluck some nerves if she wishes.

"You're so nice sometimes, I really want to do something," I replied, probably some sentiments that have tanked ever since that Ann Arbor fiasco.

She got on my nerves this time, and I will not bother with her antics. I was out to report back to the hospital when a colleague asked me for some night out.

"It'll be fun," a fellow female nurse urged. She has an impressive appeal in her, almost sweet. She gave direct signals of interest every now and then, if only I didn't have to overhear conversations one time at the cafeteria.

"How'd it's like owning a private jet?" she asked her fellow female colleague. "You're it. Totally it."

Then her colleague leaned in and whispered. "Isn't that Mike's sign as if he's into you? Ask him when both of you are officially dating. He's so hot." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Jackpot, isn't it? Girl, bag your claim."

The girl lifted the corners of her mouth and played a mock modesty in the way she brushed her hand. "Oh, stop it," she denied. "I think I like him too."

Then they both giggled. I was put off, and tired. I didn't bother to 'officially ask her out'. We never became an item. And now, I just really want to retire and chill back home.

"I can't, Avery. Sorry," I told her. "I'll prepare for tomorrow's forest ranger monitoring. Gotta rest myself up for the outdoors." It's true I've got duties. I winked and smiled before rushing to pack my things.

Deflected, her shoulders slumped and her face momentarily faltered before recovering with a gracious smile. "Oh," she breathed. "No, it's fine. Rest well, Mike."

That was our recent talk ever since then, before I got out of the hospital and did not see her again for a long time due to my casual schedules. After a warm bath, I was on my sofa, chewing some popcorn and watching a transient encore of CN's The Amazing World of Gumball for my switched-off brain, comfortably chilling out the moment my phone rang. When I saw the caller's ID I cussed badly.

"Katarina! I swear, you keep messing with me and I might lock you in a basement!" This woman has been at it ever since these past weeks, how the fuck am I supposed to stay calm?

She hung up. Oh fuck, not on me, Miss Nievez.

"You will answer me, and you'll do it with some decency. Don't be a coward, Katarina Nievez." I said, dropping her an ultimatum.

"Can I have a one-night stand with you? Just to relieve this frustratio--"

Didn't bother to have her finished talking at the end of the line. I sighed. Ah... Shit. I massaged my forehead that's just about heated by how fucked-up that woman can get. Sure, there's nothing new about her goals, but can she at least make it sound appealing? She won't stop, that girl called again and I've had enough I blocked her.

She will pester me for good. And she'll find better ways, more subtle ways to fuck my head. Didn't I tell you how she looks with cold eyes? Her warm brown eyes go against that description. Instead, it gives a sharp concentrated focus. Once you've seen it, you can tell beneath it is a clear sight, calculating and cutting that's why it comes off her mouth.

I messaged her and she replied. Right. Just exactly as I thought: her rebuttals are merciless and ruthless. Anything that gets in her way.

I'm not going to be fuckin' used by this woman, I might get stalled with her annoying concentration but I don't get overruled by her mind tactics. So, I sent her a message which I know will discourage her: anything with attachments.

Me: Just so u know, unlike ur views, I don't wish to be commodified. There are things meant to be intimate and exclusive. Since ur so persistent, consider dating me.

Her: Did you master Mandarin after French? You're quite fluent in foreign languages.

I scoffed, that's exactly what she didn't want. In anything that she didn't want she disposed of immediately. But she won't stop getting the ones she wants, which includes having sex with me. I mean, having sex with her is uncalled for. But in Katarina? It'll be complicated. So, let's see if I can use that to leverage her pursuit in order for her to cease.

Not a few long hours, her mom called. "Mike, Alfred is doing well for you to check on him this time," Mrs. Nievez starts. "Although, may I ask for some unrelated help? I'll promise you, it'll be quick. Could you check my daughter's whereabouts this hour? I've ordered Katarina to buy some groceries but she never came back. And that girl usually walks alone, it worries me if something happens to her."

It's early evening at 6, but perhaps Mrs. Nievez had been in New York for too long. Oh well, makes a perfect opportunity to sort out that fuck-up request Katarina had anyway. "Alright, Mrs. Nievez," I answered. "I'll try askin' around." Then I got out of the house to get my car.

I asked Rosana and told me she left for a while now. I ended up cruisin' around the town nearby establishments when I saw across the window two plastic bags filled up with stuff with a big logo of Rosana's grocery store. And one brown petite chit had her head propped on her hands, with a face that screams her daily expression: blank and disengaged.

"Are you stalking me?" she accused.

"Your mom asked me to find you," I replied, but didn't bother elaborating other reasons too.

"You could always block her like you did to me. You know, like mother, like daughter."

Sharp mouth. I made an internal smirk and sat across from her, challenging her with what I counter-offered earlier. Let's see how she might balk at the thought.

"No. I don't have to think about it. But hey..." She tapped the table. "Since you're a nice guy pushed to his limits, let me soothe your patience. What if we do friends with benefits instead? I believe we have great chemistry."

The casual way she put things went over my head. I couldn't wrap my head around how she discussed it not just with a straight face but with genuine enthusiasm. "We could be friends. But you'd still end up ogling me shamelessly like you do when you think I'm not aware," I said.

I mean, she got that chaotic energy in her. Why not shift our communication to something simpler?

"Speaking of day, why the fuck are you even continuing this proposition? Didn't you mention the ethical Magna Carta of your profession?" She asked.

I stopped whatever I was doing. "I don't know either, Kat. You tell me, since I'm only indulging your wishes," I told her, see how far you can dedicate yourself with your own selfish pursuit.

"I'm not bleaching my hair!" She protested. "The last time I did, my scalp got burned."

I wanted to shamelessly grin and show her how I'm satisfied with how she got teased. But nah... I wouldn't waste my energy with her.

"Who said you had to? Besides, who asked for their profiles? Curiosity killed the persistent Katarina."

"Why are you still single? Shouldn't hot people be constantly dating?" she asked, challenging me with a jutting chin. "It's not like you never had a fling. When was the last time?"

What's the problem if I didn't have a constant stream of body count?

"High school," I told her. Technically, since high school. I broke up with Ellie on spring break on my last year of junior high, before I started hooking up with Jasmine in senior high school. Our fling lasted up to my sophomore year until I met Jessica.

"So?" she continued. "What happened? Found true love and never returned to hook-ups?"

More like, affected much to be the receiving end of it.

"Seems like it." I shrugged.

"Mind elaborating?" Her prying goes on.

"First ex didn't work out. High school and adulthood have different priorities. Second ex cheated," I simply answered.

She gave her first-ever animated sigh. "Speaking of cheating, I know someone who did. When I found out, I wanted to fuck the affair partner. You know, like if your ex cheated with a man who has a college-age sister, you go for that sister as revenge?"

I was alarmed. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Just imagining, you know," she casually dismissed.

Fuck no, how can I forget she can be quite fucked.

I sighed. "Katarina, you can be disturbing as hell. Have you ever tried therapy?"

"I checked their rates," she said. "Couldn't afford it."

"Huh?"

"It's not like I'm asking my mother for money. I hate her guts, and I hate her cunt--"

I raised both hands. "Whoa. Easy. She's nice to me."

But Katarina's eyes darkened. Something I saw for the very first time, her warm brown eyes flashed something too bright. It almost looked like rusting metal about to cause tetanus. "Of course she's nice. You're Andrew Sanditon's son, remember? She'd love to climb the ladder and step on those beneath her. Have I ever mentioned cheating?" She says in her easy voice laced with measured restraint.

I grew silent. This was something else in her. Katarina's demeanor has the mixture of her determination, lethal presence but much darker and heavier. I could tell you, she could kill with that bearing. But it trailed off when a great crack occurred her eyes almost turned teary before she averted her gaze away.

"How did you find out you were cheated on?" She asked, as if hoping for a vaguest clarity on the grander scheme of things.

"She told me. Asked for a clean break and moved on," I replied. I don't dwell too much on it, my last relationship is embarrassing at its finest.

"Can you still call it a quits, though? I guess confusion and self-doubt ate you for some time, Michael." She looked at me with that clarity but in her usual nonchalance when she shrugged. "Who knows?"

I mean, sure I did. If trusting Jessica makes me blind, or me thinking if a serious relationship like that must be in constant vigilance to the signs of cheating. But I couldn't find the answers myself so I stopped thinking about it. I just hope I'd find someone who shared the compatibility as mine. It's that simple.

But Katarina's presence shifted once more, a calmer, renewed vibe. It's refreshing perhaps to see her watching me with a grounded focus this time. Nonchalant, yes. But somehow, real, however disinterested. She's talking with me. She's present. And damn, if I didn't watch these new changes on her.

"Wouldn't you ask me?" I shot back at her.

"You seemed to rise above it," she said. "At the very least, she stood up her shit too. And you, not yet putting a ring on it. What I've got? Mind-fuck. So fucked, I left everything to karma." Then she goes on to stare, a hundred yard stare.

She looked at me unconsciously and stared. I observed her back. Katarina is no longer closed-off but in a reserved but more in-tune than she had ever been with me. Her crassness intact, she disrupted this momentum. "What are you looking at?"

"You," I answered. What part of you is real? "What are you looking at?" I asked her in return.

I insist on the dating set-up to deter her, while managing to lessen any possible risk than us becoming a simple hookup.

"Fair enough. But it's not like Frederic didn't enjoy sucking your tits," I said. If FWBs includes a third party, I won't fuckin' buy it. I've had enough under my plate, alright.

"He did," she boasts. "Even covered them when you butted in."

Fuck, it gets under my nerves. I didn't like it. "Welp." I sighed.

Stay cool, Mike, and focus.

That's what I kept to myself before knocking the table with one hand. "Suppose you slept with me, saw another guy you wanted to bang--would you sleep with him even during our FWBs?"

"Depends." She shrugged. "If we negotiated exclusivity, which is nonsense--no, I'd be lying. Honestly, I'd bang him and bring you medical results showing I'm still STI-free."

Fuck no. Over my dead body, woman. "Not on my watch."

But then Katarina's approach took a turn she almost looked ridiculously funny whining. She stomped her feet in agitation. "Michael," she pleads in a tone I wish I could chuckle at her comical hopelessness. "You're making this difficult." She grabbed both my hands with those small palms of hers. Warm, and a bit of textured skin made a jolt of goosebumps in me for a quick second. Then those warm brown wide-eyes glazed at me. "Why? Why can't we just simply fuck?"

Don't take her bait, Mike. Don't. But I did, fuck. I escalated, took her hands and held them. I whispered, "Because you can be quite unhinged."

You will not leave me used and that hung up, girl. If you get what you want, I will have mine. Let's play fair.

"I wish I hadn't," I said. Leaning back, I shook my head. "But you kept bugging me with your mind games, driving me insane. You annoy me at work and hit on me off-duty. I might as well face it head-on."

Yes. To have better control of this relationship structure, I'll deal with your fuckeries later on. Mano a mano.

"About work..." She referred, "what would you do if we got involved?"

"Change assignments, obviously," I stated a basic solution. "Wait for things to settle, then proceed with the plan."

Then, Katarina became more animated, more lively. "You mean you'd no longer be my father's nurse?"

This is no compromise, Mike. It's a preventive measure for larger complications. But I sat there, noticing Katarina's liveliness gave her face more animation, more life.

"Alright!" Then, she's all that. Her warm brown eyes brightened at me. She smiled through her round face in such a grin that stretched those thick lips into vitality. It's far from her usual detachment but rather, she's in the simplicity of a cheerfulness made out of excitement. As if she was thrilled with the idea, uninhibited and open in showing that to me. Her features are more vivid now, her expression more vibrant. She seemed prettier that way.

No. Back out. Now. Mike, back out.

That time, I saw in my subconscious a freight-train that would surely crash in the end and would burn me into flames. I didn't fuckin' listen to my guts.

"I agree. Let's date. You wearing scrubs around my Dad makes my pussy dry anyway," she disclosed.

I sighed internally. God, this girl.

It's a leverage. You're not too invested in it, are you, Mike? Right, it's a leverage. She'll work on getting what she wants.

"Damn. I've pictured doing that," I murmured with satisfaction when I made a petty move to get back at her somehow. I flicked a ketchup smudge on her face. Pathetic? Blame her.

But the Katarina way back in Ann Arbor sprung to life in a playful, mischievous way. She was smirking, eyes alert while licking playfully through the tip of her tongue that ketchup I threw her. I took a sharp breath. Same call as Jasmine: naughty and knowing. But Katarina owned her shit with a hypnotic gaze that comes from that grounded focus. The blood in my cock roared. Shit, I might do something too soon. So I find it better than to stand up, walk out the door and leave her there.

I better not screw her up and show her my cards early. I called it a strategic retreat.

Over time, I unblocked her and arranged to limit our contact. It was a matter of treading carefully on what we were about to enter. The knowledge that I can finally have her made me restless. Sometimes jittery, if I can have her, it means I could pull her at any corner and fuck her with that ketchup image in mind, right? Shit. Shut up, Mike.

I got a gist of her mood-swings or the way she messes with me. Most times, you have to just surf the waves of her whims. She would pick a bone, she just wants to be playful or she's simply waiting a reaction out of you. We made phone calls, all tame. No sex. Definitely that, no sex. I've got to be the one who got a hold of it or else she's out at the drop of the hat.

"Hi, Mike. Good morning," she said one time during her morning phone call. She puts up an overt soothing feminine voice, making a show for that girlfriend material she imposed. "Have you eaten?"

She must be joking, of course, she'll never be serious. But I broke a loser smile she'll never see. Fuck it. I made a groggy sound before answering, "Just woke up."

"What do you want to eat? Would you like it if it's me?" She said unfailingly in that performative charm and gentle appeal.

"Nice try," my croaky morning voice called out. "Better luck next time, though."

Her mouth sketched a sound. "Damn it," the real Katarina puts down her act, dropping it back to her usual tone of crassness. "Get out of there, you're late. What's with this shit-ass phone call, anyway? You're wasting my bills."

"But these are the first steps in dating, remember?" I jabbed, chuckling and grinning out of amusement.

"Michael," she drawn-out in a long vowel. "How long?"

"Three months, it seems," I consoled.

She made it clear she's pissed as hell. She scratched her mouth audibly. "Eat, and go to work."

"Aww, that's so sweet," I chide. "Would you give me a kiss?"

She coughed and adjusted her voice. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mike," she said in a bratty girl voice. "But mommy says no. So were your claims about no sex!" She roughly blasts on that last statement.

"A'right." I got up. "That's a great wake-up call."

This became our three-month routine. A play-pretend long distance relationship, something Ellie is not willing to try. Well, I understand that if I anticipate too much of Ellie's presence anyway.

With Katarina, she's feasible for this set-up. 'Cause this girl can piss as hell.

"Hey, Mike," says the more thrilled Katarina.

Or sometimes viable enough not to get caught off-guard with her chaos.

"Yep?" I called back.

"Hey, Mike," she repeats.

My face straightened. "Kat, are you fuckin' with me?"

"Hey, Mike."

"Katarina," I warned. "Keep going and I'll shut you out for good."

She made a whiny protest. "Hey, Mike."

"Katarina!"

"Alright!" She concedes abruptly. "I've unlocked the new Facebook."

I let out a breath. God, finally. "Uh-huh?"

"Let me tell you," she said, before she squealed in excitement when I heard footsteps running through. "Listen, listen," says her more thrilled voice. "I used AI recently to make some blogs and video games. Gah"--she squealed again--"Mike, I made these really cutesy cat games. I'm beating Neko Atsume." Then laughed in that comic maniacal laughter.

My annoyance disappears when she goes on, and I find myself listening to her own happenings. I could get a hang of this, who knows? Maybe it could work out?

"I think we should go somewhere to a bazaar or Comic-Con or something," her voice was giddy. "I'd pitch my app to anyone interested. Let's go, Mike. What'd you say? After this?" Referring to this no-contact rule.

My face unknowingly smiled on something I'm thankful she is not about to witness.

Okay, my girl. We should go out sometime.

"Sure," my mouth popped.

She made a sound of thrill and excitement as she giggled, something I've heard before next to her father. And my face didn't lose my piece of amused cheeriness. Not until she changed the topic, "Okay! Off you go then, Mike. Bye." She had her bye drawn out in seconds before ending the call.

Okay...

I shook my head before carrying on my own day, but not without a sigh and a chuckle. Typical, frustrating and confusing Katarina. I've entered this, I'll walk on it. But damn, she can be sweet even when she's not trying.

One of our limited in-person contact happened when she actually sent me tickets for Motor City Comic-Con. I met her in Novi where she's wearing a dress and ballerina flats. She turned to see me, then waved her hand. Her hair was braided to either side to show much more of her face. Those features were radiant in their expression of enthusiasm. Pretty girl...

She grinned, ran and grabbed my arm to tug me. "Let's go, let's go," she insists from excitement.

Then she dragged me on by the arm, saw her buy collections I became familiar with because she kept gushing them to me. I had myself carried away to walk around the corners of the venue, seeing my date strolling and bouncing from one booth to another. I could take her to places like this anytime if she wants.

I was quick to assume that we could stay like that for me to confidently ask her this time.

"After sex, what happens?" I said over this regular phone call, internally crossing my fingers.

"You mean if I slaked my lust after I courted you?" She reiterates. "Well, as promised, Michael, it'll be an easy break. We'll go on business as usual," she said, in her typical casual tone as if she didn't have someone punched in the figurative gut.

I kept my heads up. "That goes on why we're not yet having sex," I muttered. "I'm taking you with me to our family holiday this Thanksgiving."

In the middle of our remaining no contact months we've gone quiet. She must be pissed, while I was biting my lip after that Herculean request that she won't chicken out now. After all the time we put through, she won't chicken out now, would she? I sure do hope so.

Turns out, she didn't. "You will have me meeting the Mr. Andrew Sanditon?!" She screeched, but her determination to get what she wants must have overruled her own reluctance.

I was relieved when our flight took off, and tried to take her hand. Which reminded me of that brief moment when her hands touched mine and jolted me to gooseflesh. She was crouching badly, her lips draining, head desperately placed on her hand. I've noticed something in Katarina: she will never talk. That closed off shell that is harder to break, more difficult to understand. I waited even if I could feel the hand covered around mine was withering in distress, but she kept on enduring it. She won't tell me her pain. She won't tell me she badly wanted to puke, instead, she'd brave that one and took a hard swallow of it.

"You know, your date, Kat. She's interestingly funny," Mama said when I ran to her over the kitchen and talked about attending Ellie's upcoming wedding. "She said something about your nurse's scrubs." She snorted a heavy chuckle.

I leaned into the kitchen counter and turned my attention fully at her. "Let me guess, Ma, something about her coochies."

And there, how my Mama gave laughs. "So she didn't make that a secret? For a girl actin' like a sugar, she can roast. She's nothin' like your last girlfriend Jessica. Where's your date by the way," she questioned, looking for a spice.

Used to her habit, I handed her the cinnamon from behind me. "She took her flight early. She said my attendance to my unrequited first love is my own business to nurse."

She broke another amused reaction. "She knows how to put up a performance right beneath that bright face in her, Mikey."

"I know," I murmured.

"She's even quick to use it to have her way with me," my Mama continued.

"I know, Mama," I kept repeating.

"But it isn't a secret, don't ya think? She just plays it and waits for you to bite around." Mama turned around. "At this point in your life, Mikey, it doesn't matter what I would say, isn't it? You could've stopped now."

I grew quiet, my lips pursed as I started staring at the floor. "Yeah."

Mama watched me, and stopped what she's doing. "You like her, don't you?" She interrogates.

My only response was a hesitant nod.

"Oh, Mikey, darlin'." She rushed towards me and gave me a hug, cupped my cheeks and gave me a side kiss. "It ain't my part. You've become a man of your own now, my boy. Oh, how you make me cry, you're no longer ma baby."

It was supposed to be a leverage, yet I've already pictured a train-wreck waiting to happen. I touched her earlier than expected, it should've been more controlled on my part but I'm losing my grip when she's truly backing down then.

"Sonnova bitch!" I remembered snapping out of the blue.

"I want you to treat me fairly, please, I want you like the last one. The last one where your full attention--even if it's with a surreptitious gaze--is only meant for me, Kat. But you're exhausting. You exhaust me by just how I keep walking on eggshells just so you can make me feel heard by the brief moment of your own lucidity," I spewed like she's a hot mess herself. Not now, Katarina. As if what I've held solid had turned into sand running out of my hands on what she said.

"Mike," I heard her say. "You're not hard to like yourself."

My attention snapped back. Really?

"As a person, you're nice. Considerate, always there to help, patient to put up childish antics. I mean, you rose above your own relationship slights. What is there not to like about it?" I remembered she said at the gazebo, those warm brown doe-eyes looking at me once more.

The rush overtook me, I felt her lips, they're fuckin' soft. No, I want her. And I want her badly to be with me, and only me. To hell with it. My libido went off the roof with her affirmation, I ended up doing the irreversible. But I have to stop. Too soon, and she might back away again.

Just like what I told Mama, Katarina took her flight earlier while I asked my mother to accompany me to Ellie's wedding. When Ellie's day came, she was breathtakingly beautiful as she always was. Her, in the white gown and a long veil, as the rest of us stood along the pew to witness a gorgeous bride that happened to be my first of everything. I look at the man before the altar, and he looks affable enough to size up.

He's quite older than the both of us, perhaps in his early thirties, quite proud to wait for his bride. Felicitations for Ellie, even if things could be a little wistful, our time had taken its due chapter.

"My, my, Ellie, honey," Mama greets Ellie during the event's reception. "Haven't I seen you more lovelier than you already are."

The bride in question who now wears a cocktail dress turns around to my mother. "Mrs. Sanditon!" greets Ellie's gleeful surprise. "How ya doin'?" Then proceeds to give Mama a delighted hug and a cheek kiss. She turned her attention to me. "Oh, Mike! Let me introduce you to my husband." Ellie beamed and rushed to call her husband to meet me.

"Jack, this is Mike. The one I've told you about? Once my high school boyfriend and best friend," she introduced.

The man turned to me in a cordial manner. "Hey, Mike. Nice meetin' you," he began. "I know it may sound cheeky, but if it weren't for you, I wouldn't meet my sweet wife." He gave a lighthearted laugh.

I, in return, took his hand and pumped it. "Naw, it's your blessing, man. Keep an eye on her, though. 'Cause I could be watchin' if you ain't takin' care of her right." I made a comical squint in the eyes.

Jack chuckled, where Ellie playfully dissuaded me from it. "Oh, stop it, Mikey."

Both Mama and I stayed long enough to eat the sliced cake, but I left sooner than her when she decided to meet Ellie's mother and other women whom she knew around church to talk for a bit with whatever topic they can glean.

Days before Ellie's honeymoon trip, we went for a stroll around Broadway to catch up with each other. It's been a long time since I've last seen her from that tough decision when I left her at the airport. I realized Jack was once a divorced man.

"How'd you two even meet each other? Your man looked secure enough to joke around me," I remarked around the busy street of this downtown area. Huddled in sideways from the packed crowds also strolling around for some drinks and music.

Ellie's reverie broke when she turned her attention to me. "Hmm? I really don't know. We met at a party of mutual friends, hung out until we found ourselves in each other's presence," was Ellie's vague reply. "He actually taught me how to ride a bike every morning." Then, there rose in Ellie's features the once I saw, an anticipating, optimistic, sweet smile of hers.

"What'd you see in him?" I couldn't help asking.

But Ellie shrugged before we successfully managed to get a more breathable sidewalk. She looked around before turning to me. "I mean, he was already divorced at that time, and I'm tryin' to figure how my life goes on. You know, Mike. He was just there, we keep spendin' our time together. Until..." She trailed off and raised her shoulders again. "It happens. I don't know, it just did."

Well, how would I also know. But I'm sure it makes Ellie happier than she had been before.

"Damn," I exhaled. "He did?" I said, which surprised me. "So now you know how to bike?"

She chuckled as we walked on. "You knew I could be good with horses but never on those gears," she said, and laughed.

I also laughed with her. It's true, she's a skilled equestrian but a real klutz around lady bikes. That's probably the last time I'll ever talk to her again for the many years to come. She and her husband flew to Fiji the following week.

Michael! Just think about the extent I put out there as your pretty-little-date. Pay up!

This was Katarina's message after a limbo when I recently got back to Michigan. I sighed, I almost forgot her own deal. Thus, I came back with my own reply:

Come over to my house, rlly. There's nthn much goin' on here, we could Netflix and chill.

'Cause why the hell did she keep refusing to come? It's not like it's difficult. What she does every single time is more tedious than coming over to my house.

Damn it! Alright. Pick me up, show yourself to mom and dad. Your turn to do some acting.

Oh, right. She can't drive.

Alright! I might as well use that opportunity to make things official from both sides. So I picked her up that time and unwittingly dragged this status to Rosana, which almost caught us into an awkward position if it were for her mouth.

I didn't know that beneath that crassness and imposing way Katarina has for her demand, she can be afraid over the simplest things. She thinks I couldn't fit inside her, but she ended up being more determined between the two of us.

Body count, skin, and a good fuck can come and go. Either a hit or a miss with an equally enthusiastic sex buddy in every encounter. Shuffle this, shuffle that. But this time, I chose whose skin I hold. Soft and yielding, she smells like a fruit-scented spritz.

Katarina.

The flow of her black hair cascades like a rumpled silk over her sweaty back. Crass mouth but a sweet, yearning voice when I took her, my cock snugly gloved inside that cunt as she kept moaning my name. Warm brown doe-eyes half-hooded when she whimpers, writhes beneath me.

I'd have this body, I'd grabbed this body while she opened it up for me. Clinging and wanting to be carried when I fucked her well and good. But I can't make it as if we're making love when I do it with her. She'll leave if I can't fuck her right. So I did. As if almost every beat has to be met with staggering results in satisfactory performance for her. Even if it exhausted her body, she kept asking for it.

Katarina's appetite is voracious. I should've known just from the moment I talked to her about this dating arrangement.

To fuck her until I'm wrung out, raw and opened, yet she still sees it as a mere rut in the woods. This is what that train-wreck my gut was telling me. I'm not into sex games anymore. But it's a foundation our relationship had stood far well enough to keep this going.

Its return is to see her in an afterglow, a clear picture of that grounded gaze. The Katarina that I tend to call Kat. Who can be coy, teasing, exasperating and cheerful, who had nothing to do with me in terms of status or looks. True, she had nothing to do with me. It took an exhilarating feat to make her feel like the vibrant girl I once saw.

One time, I remembered meeting up with Ricky at the Nievez's house. Ricky's on the fix of their wirings again.

"It seems old, doncha think? How'd they sold this house in that condition?" I asked him at the Nievez's front porch.

"It's the house's price floor, not gonna lie." Ricky shrugged. "I'm seein' old folks on their retirement with this house. Where's that young shawty? I haven't seen her for a while."

"My house," I informed. "She became my girlfriend."

Ricky turned to me, amused. "Ay," he teased, covering his mouth with his rolled fist before chuckling, surprised. "Smooth, Mike. You'd already hit on that one," he said, while tapping me humorously on the back.

My head tipped in acknowledgement, and couldn't help taking the mirth in it. That sounded quite right when I said it.

She always greets me these days in high spirits. I did that to her. I feel like I did, and it makes me more proud that I'm the first one to see it.

There are moments during that time when we did the ordinary things the dating couple would do. I'd taken her out to Sleeping Bear Dunes where true to her nature, she caught me off-guard when I rolled down because of her pushing.

I took her with me when I was about to roll down the steep slope.

"No!" She giggled her heart out trying to stagger back to resist the gravity. She was alive. Her eyes are present and bright with me. Even if we ended up rolled, tripped and laid around the sands. Her uncontrollable laughs sprung through the air. A feminine high-pitch only this girl could have if she lets it on.

It was summer, I took her to Lake Michigan when she asked what ranger duties I'm doing. I invited her to tag along and called it a date, then just as I was planning to prank her to roll down in Sleeping Bear, she outdone me first with it. Those times we also visited Isle Royale, and did some canoeing around Lake Superior. She had her eyes wandered, soaking it in as if everything was new to her.

"Hey, Mike," I remembered her saying.

My eyebrows perked. "Yuh? If you keep repeating that like a broken line, I'll push you out of this canoe," I warned her.

She gave me a look before giving an audible harrumph. I chuckled, and she immediately eased her mood and carried on. "I think I know why you won't go to a corporate world even for a trillion dollar deal," she ushered, glancing my way before looking around and beyond her. "Because, it seems, that you have the most beautiful one in your palm." She turned and looked at me again that time, clear in her wide-eyed gaze and gave her tight-lipped smile.

Should I say it took my breath for a while?

Naw. It seared through my eyes like a flashing picture on repeat, until when I recalled those times once again, I think my heart stopped beating in that moment.

The same reason why my hand shakes when she asks me to have her whipped in those sex dares she frequently demands. It'll be so sluggish that she'd complain in utmost passion. Katarina is a maelstrom in that capacity of hers. When in doubt, the once I felt as heavy and lethal came into its manifestation that day.

"Cheat, and I'll fucking murder you and your bitch," she once said. It stung, but in fuck-up way, I was relieved. If she can put out a threat that grave, it means she will put herself first into that pedestal. I must have gone crazy putting out something like this as a logic.

Until the time she made me freeze.

"That's the way I am, Michael. My mother cheated and beat me at the same time. But I don't need your pity, nor your understanding nor empathy." I remembered her hand was around me that time, but I felt my blood draining. "That's why I wanted us to just simply fuck. You waste my body real good, and I take the relief--both of us take the relief and carry on."

I did cry both during her cheating accusations even more so when I understood why she had that sentiment towards her mother. Although, she didn't have to see it. I was in the guest room when I labored some breaths while tearing my eyes out that she'd been physically abused. After I cooled that down, I got back to work until my worn eyes had to be constantly asked around the hospital.

Do I have to witness the woman who I've shared a bed with, soundly sleeping, her features etched around her round face, her full cheeks the burden of a difficult upbringing? Yes. Everytime I brush away a wild strand of her hair that covers her face, I think about it. And it hurts me.

Her skin, her scent, they seep into me. From time to time, she'd lavish me with her own kisses. Occasionally finding out my boner casually relieved in her mouth. Until she goes up to greet me with a good morning kiss.

But Katarina...

I can somehow get a grasp why oftentimes she abruptly pauses against my chest. Her exhalations are evident, and she'd clung, silent.

Katarina, is something wrong? Would you please tell me? My mind raced to ask.

But I couldn't do it, she already said it. If I keep pushing, she might lash out like the last time I brought up her father. I couldn't do anything, so I would run my hand on her skin, on her back, the planes of it that shift when she crawls on top of me.

Katarina, what's going on, please?

I couldn't ask these things for her sake. Ask or I'll pry on something she's not yet ready to share. Fuck, I wish I couldn't at least care just yet, maybe later. But it's not.

Katarina would become stiff, and just lay there on top of me, hugging me close until she rests on the curve of my neck. I could smell the faint wisp of her shampoo, tinted in a sweet cherry note. Soon after, she'd fall back to sleep.

"I can't be the one to open up fully and end up to be the only one catching some feelings," I told her.

I shouldn't care. I mustn't, must I? It was a leverage, to deter her.

"We will not do any more of that then," she said, smiling. "It'll be my utmost diligence not to lead you on."

The irony is I wish you would.

"I'll be careful," she assured me.

And in that moment I felt my shoulders faintly slumped, my spirits dampened and my hopes prayed that she'd take her words back. That she'd change her mind. Katarina doesn't change her mind when she's clear about it.

This resolute clarity is why I kept on dating her. Right now, I want her to be fickle about her stance for once.

What do pillowtalk wield for those who date?

She was currently beside me after that BDSM we did when she said those words. I drew my face close to her ear. "Have confidence, and tell me all about you, Kat. I also want to know," I soon whispered, making my own reply. "Maybe... Just maybe... I could say I love you too."

But Katarina was sound asleep that time.

***End of Part I***