The Truth About Her

07 | Selcouth

Selcouth

 (adj.) Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous.

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UPON WAKING, OCEANA BURROWS herself into the warm, soft sheets. She rubs the remainders of sleep from her eyes and gazes out at the window; the vivid light extended across a rosy sky. The weather is quite cozy, cold enough to make oneself want to stay in bed, all cuddled up, but hot enough, to not feel like dying out of hypothermia, which is what a usual winter is like in this town. That's when her alarm goes off, and she turns to grab the phone and hits the snooze button. The alarm is a reminder. It reminds her that she needs to get up, change into some workout clothes, and head to the outside world one more time. For a moment, she ponders whether staying in bed is such a bad idea – one day won't do any harm, right? No, no, no. She thinks to herself, swiftly kicking the blanket away and jumps out of bed. Procrastinating is a habit that she's been fighting ever since she started college, and she's not about to give in now. Oceana follows her usual routine; brushes her teeth, takes a shower, and dresses herself in a pink sports bra and grey leggings with sneakers matching the color of the latter. Finishing by tying up her hair into a high ponytail.

Down in the kitchen, she finds her father preparing what seems to be a fruit salad; he's wearing his usual Saturday shirt, one that has the words My Favorite Daughter Gave Me This Shirt printed on it, which makes her smile every time she sees him wear it. It's that first gift Oceana can remember giving him, the first she bought with her own money, that is. It wasn't for any special occasion, she remembers seeing it in a small boutique, it was the last one of its kind, and it had a fifty percent discount, which is why she didn't think twice before deciding to buy it. Ever since then, her father has been wearing it every Saturday morning as some kind of ritual. He argues the shirt makes his weekend a lot better, peaceful, and enjoyable to this day.

Oceana approaches him and hugs him from behind, resting her head on his back. "Hey, dad."

"Hey, little girl," he says before turning around and hugging her properly. "Oh, I see you are all ready to go jogging. I'll put this on the refrigerator, okay? When you get home, you eat it."

"Yes, dad," she nods. "Thank you."

"By the way," he starts, and his dark brown eyes look at her in a scrutinizing way. "You didn't take your pills yesterday, did you?"

Ugh, the pills. This is one topic she vigorously avoids thinking or talking about. As a person diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, taking prescribed medicine is part of her everyday life. It helps her deal with her easily triggered anger and tendency to outburst at any given moment for the simplest of reasons. Prozac and Lithobid are her only friends; those two are the ones that keep her under control and keep the harmful and detrimental thoughts at bay – she doesn't like them since they tend to make her feel drowsy or dizzy at times. That's precisely why she decided to skip them the previous day. She wanted to be fully herself while on the beach with Cai. It was a risk, nonetheless. Still, to this moment, she can't believe she was able to stay in control against Willow's blatant attempt to get on her nerves.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, I know it was wrong to go out without taking my medicine. It will not happen again, dad. I promise," she says and means every single word. She knows that the only reason she's been able to keep her cool all this time is because of those pills and the effects they have on her brain and her behavior. And if she stops taking her daily dose, it'll be gone. It might even get worse. That's for sure.

"All right," he sighs. And for a moment, she feels remorse because she knows that doing risky stuff like not taking her pills worries her father. There have been times where he has even lost sleep over her. And that's the last thing she wants to do: give him more reasons to be a concern or have sleepless nights. "I have to run some errands. But I'll be back for lunch. You don't have to cook; I'll bring something tasty."

"Uh, already looking forward to it," she grins. Her father gives her one last smile and a kiss on the forehead before leaving the kitchen. After drinking a glass of water, to start off her day on the right foot, Oceana heads outside, earbuds on, music blasting through them, to keep her distracted and in a good mood while working out.

The weather is a bit chilly, but it doesn't matter much after a few minutes because her body starts to get warm, and her skin gets sweaty due to all the running. The first fifteen minutes of her running routine go by smoothly, uninterrupted, when a hand grabs her by the shoulder unexpectedly, startling her, which causes her to turn around and involuntarily hitting whoever was behind her. In her defense, she's heard many stories about women getting smuggled or getting attacked, so even if she goes jogging as a way to let off some steam, she doesn't let her guard down. In a matter of seconds, a deep feeling of remorse invades her chest, mixed with a bit of embarrassment. Finding the boy standing a few meters away with one hand covering the side of his face, she realizes what a mistake she's made. "I'm so sorry. If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have done that." She says with a frantic voice, pretty sure her cheeks are now all flushed, and it's not because of the jogging.

He chuckles, shaking her head. "My bad. I shouldn't have come on to you like that."

"Are you hurt? Where did I hit you?" She asks, approaching him and reaching out to touch his face, guessing that's where the blow hit. His skin is warm, cheeks of a crimson red, but she assumes he looks like that because of jogging.

"I'm all right, don't worry, Ann," he reassures her with a smile. But her concern is replaced by something else; that last word he uttered, the nickname, it rings in her ears, making her feel something weird, something she can't describe. The state of befuddlement seems to reflect on her expression because then Cai asks: "is it okay if I call you Ann?"

She ponders on the questions for a couple of seconds. Nobody has ever tried to shorten her name, not even her own father. All the nicknames she's ever been called in her life are not related to her name. Now, that's not the issue. For her to allow him to call her a nickname, it'd mean they're friends, that they have enough trust in each other to get that far. Yes, it might sound like such a silly thing. Still, due to the minimal number of friends Oceana has at the moment, which is basically zero, she feels like she must be wary about letting another person get that close to her. Or, more specifically, allowing herself to get attached to another person, even if it's just in a friendly way. But glancing at his warm brown eyes, that look at her with such a glint full of life, a spark that ignites something inside her every time they lock gazes, she can't find it in herself to say no.

Hence why she nods and giggles, not even trying to hold it back. "I think that's okay, yes."

"Great." The corners of his mouth tilt up into a wide grin. "Anyway, you might wonder what I am doing here, or like if I'm following you or something, which I promise I'm not. The thing is that I like to exercise, too... I was going to go for a run on the beach, but then Theo mentioned that you go jogging around the neighborhood, and I thought maybe we could do it together, what I didn't know is that you were such an early riser, and when I got to your house, you weren't there."

"You could have called me," she shrugs, and thoughts of the previous night flash through her head. The way he held her in her arms and the warmth that took over her body, pushing her into a trance. How he kept his arm around her waist as they approached the cab and how he walked her to her door once they arrived at her house and then gave her a kiss on the forehead as a goodnight. Just the thought of it melts her heart, and a fluttery feeling creeps through her insides once again, accompanied by a curious sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"I didn't want to come out as too intense," he admits with a grimace. "And maybe, just maybe, I was hoping I might run into you along the way," he makes one more confession before averting his eyes in an obvious display of sweet bashfulness.

"Well, good thing you did then," she bites her lower lip, fully aware of how the tone in her voice gives away the flirtatious intentions behind her words. It's been quite a while since she's been in this kind of situation – flitting, that is. It's not like she's terrible at it. In fact, when she met Theo, who was her first and last boyfriend, they started dating because she made the first move. She used to be bold and sort of wanton in an alluring kind of way. She used to be rarely afraid of making the first move when it came to anything, really. And she's still like that, but not with everything; certain situations are now out of her comfort zone. Boys are out of her comfort zone.

After what seems to be a silent agreement to consider the conversation finished, they start jogging, and they do so for about twenty minutes more before deciding to turn back and head towards her house. When they're standing on her porch, Oceana glances at the driveway, noticing the absence of her father's car. Then glances back at Cai, whose breathing is quite heavy, droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead. She thinks about offering to go inside for a glass of water, but fear holds her back. Fear of what? She's not afraid of Cai. On the contrary, she feels safe and comfortable around him. But something is sowing the seed of fear in her chest, but it's hard to put a name to it.

Her thoughts are shooed away when Cai's voice reaches her ear. "Could you give me a glass of water?"

That, she did not see coming. But doesn't think at all before nodding her head and opening the door. Stepping inside first with him following behind. The sound of the door being closed resounds in the house as they make their way to the kitchen. Oceana gets the glass from the old mahogany cabinets and pours some cold water from the refrigerator before handing it to the boy standing by the countertop closest to the door. "Don't be shy. You can take a seat," she offers him, pulling a chair out from under the kitchen table for him.

He gives her a lopsided smile before taking a large gulp from his glass of water. She takes this chance to look at him or ogle; it's just a wording technicality. Today, he's wearing a wine red, plain t-shirt combined with black sweatpants and sneakers of the same color. Even while wearing such dark tones, the black ink decorating his skin is hard to miss – the armband tattoo on his right arm gets her attention first. But then her eyes trail an inch lower where she finds the words So it goes tattooed right underneath, which makes her think that maybe the whole thing does have meaning. The next one is a minimalist compass on his forearm area, followed by a small symbol on his wrist. He's also got one on his left heel, but she hasn't had the chance to get a good look at it, but it seems to be some sort of quote written in a circular orientation. And last but not least, there is a flower tattooed on his left forearm, which is the only one that it's not tattooed with black ink with its orange-colored petals and stem and leaves.

Her eyes move up to his face after she's done studying his tattoos, and her heart skips a beat when she finds Cai's eyes fixed on the table, more specifically, the two bottles of pills sitting on the table and silently prays for him not to ask about it – it's silly, she knows. If they're to become friends, there'll come a moment where she'll have to tell him about her disorder, but she doesn't want that moment to be now. Not yet. And to her luck, he dismisses them, maybe assuming the pills are her father's. By the time Cai finishes with the glass of water, Oceana is leaning back against the sink. The boy approaches her in silence. The sweat in his forehead has dried now, his breathing has become regular, and his cheeks have regained their normal color. Still, the spark in his eyes remains, and it continues to prolong whatever they've ignited in her insides. He leans closer, way closer than he's ever been before, his eyes boldly fixed on her lips, and as an involuntary reaction, she bites her lower lip. As soon as she does this, Cai looks up, meeting her gaze, and stretches out his hand; the sound of the glass against the metal sink brings her out of her trance.

"I just wanted to put the glass here, but you're making it kind of hard," he says, and the mischievous look on his brown eyes, and cheeky smile, tell her that he knows exactly what he's doing. Oceana rolls her eyes and tries to walk away from him, but her attempt is interrupted by his hand, as it wraps around her wrist, keeping her exactly where she is: only inches away from him. "I'm going to be upfront with you because I don't think you're the kind that likes to beat around the bush when it comes to saying things... I like you, Oceana. And I was wondering if we can fast forward the part where I have to wait days to call you and pretend we're not into each other, so I can ask you to go out with me tonight."

"What makes you think I'm into you?" She teases him and doesn't try to hide the smile making its way across her face.

Cai places both hands on each side of her waist, pressing his body closer to her. "You were ogling the hell out of me just a minute ago."

That answer gets a heartily laugh out of her. "Maybe I was, yes."

"Tonight. At 7pm. I'll be at your door, is that okay?" He asks.

She nods. "Sounds good."

"Great. It's a date, then."