In Love With My Rival

CHAPTER TWO: meets the devil

            “Are you sure you want to do this?” It was the panicky voice of Xavier as he stalked his brother down the stairs who was already walking towards the door. They were in their apartment unit in a building located in the heart of New York.

            “I have to.” It was the simple response of his elder brother. Nothing else mattered for him at the moment, but to release his anger and get revenge.  

            Xavier watched him put on a black leather jacket after picking up the keys from the coffee table in the living room. The two had been arguing for minutes now. The younger was totally fine about what happened to him. The older, on the other hand, took it seriously.

            “Come on. Nothing happened. Look, I’m fine.” Xavier spread his arms in front of him, trying to convince his brother that he was fine for the nth time but his brother just rolled his eyes at him.

            “Now where is he?” The tone was demanding.

            He was seriously going to do it, Xavier thought. He had no choice in the matter, but to give up. “I don’t know. How would I know that?” He sounded so defeated, pulling at his long brown hair. Shirtless, there was a visible bruise on his right shoulder. He lied. He was obviously not fine.

            “Get yourself checked at the hospital. I’ll be late.” It was the brother’s final words before it stormed out of their house.

The sun was starting to lose its brightness in the west, displaying a yellowish pink color in the sky. Zephyr Hernandez was waiting at the parking lot, a few meters outside the gates of the football field. The boy would be out soon, he thought. He looked so calm. Well, there was no reason for him to be scared. He then heard voices and it was his cue. He still had his matte black helmet on as he sat casually on his black 2018 Ducati Monster 821. College football players walked out of the gates, towels on their shoulders. Those guys were laughing about something and Zephyr didn’t give a damn about what it was. They were not the target. He watched them got into a yellow car until they drove off.

            Silence. The only sound he could hear was the noisy crickets in the background.

It was dark in the parking lot and there was only car one left. It was a black Audi. Again, he didn’t give a damn. A few moments later, someone walked out of the gates of the football field. Through the black tinted lens of his helmet, he made it sure it was the person he was waiting for before he hopped off his bike. He walked slowly and in timing, making sure to keep some distance behind the guy. That, someone, was on his jersey attire, and football shoes, a white towel was hanging on his neck. Zephyr’s anger just worsened seeing that person. He was ready to move. In action, he was about to hold the person’s hands and twist them behind his back. However, the guy suddenly turned around and Zephyr felt a slice through his right hand. His nose flared in fury, realizing that the boy had cut his hand.

Nate stared at the raging man in front of him, wide-eyed. He was scared, really scared. When he was walking on his way to the parking lot from his football practice, he had sensed someone following behind him. He had a pocket knife stuck between his two-fold wallet. He had that wallet inserted on the waistband of his jersey after the practice. His eyes drifted down to the stranger’s hand. Droplets of blood were hitting the ground. s**t, he thought. He obviously didn’t know the guy and he couldn’t see its face because of the helmet on. “Who are you?!” He screamed loudly, hoping someone would hear him.

In anger, Zephyr was so quick to grab Nate’s hands with his uninjured hand and twisted them behind his back, making Nate drop the knife in the process. “Shut up.” He angrily hissed in Nate’s ear. “How dare you hurt my brother?” He panted, twisting the boys’ hands harder.

Nate almost cried in pain, tiptoeing at the feeling of his hands being twisted being his back painfully. Whoever the guy was, he was someone really dangerous, he thought as beads of sweat formed on his temple. He recalled the events that happened during the day, wondering if he had done something. Who was this dangerous guy referring to?

“Hernandez. Does the name ring a bell?” Zephyr angrily demanded, pushing the poor guy harder the driver’s side of the car. “I could kill you right here if I want to.” He paused. “Do you want that?”

Nate’s mind had been refreshed when he heard the name. Hernandez. He didn’t have to think harder even when the first name was not being said. There was only one person he knew who carried that surname. It was his nerdy classmate in the English class. He swallowed, remembering what he had done to the said nerd. He was on his way to the university library to meet up with his girlfriend when he saw Xavier and his girl were talking and sitting beside each other on the couch. He approached them, but never really said and done anything to Xavier. Parker, his girlfriend, met him halfway and led them out of the library together. However, Nate was jealous and furious about what he just saw. He waited for Xavier at the parking lot in the afternoon and threw punches at the innocent nerd when it was about to get in his car. Now, he realized his actions got back at him.

“What do you want?” He felt bold when he asked that. Well, he was rich enough.

            “Just because you’re the famous f*****g quarterback in your school, you can hurt anybody you want?” Zephyr laughed bitterly. “Because you’re a rich kid? Is that why you’re so confident? Listen, boy. You don’t know who you are dealing with. When I’ll hear the news that you’ve beaten up my brother again, you will not only lose your dearest Parker, your precious Labrador, and loving Mom. Make sure to put that in your f*****g head.” His voice was dangerous, holding so much threat and promise at the same time. With that, he let go of the poor boy, kicked the pocket knife, and picked it up. He walked back to where his bike was, leaving Nate so stunned.

“Where are you?” Zephyr asked his brother over the phone. “I’m here at the entrance of the hospital. What is your room number?” He was actually hesitating whether he should come in or not because he was bothered by the thought that medical staff would see his hand. His motorcycle was parked there at the parking lot.

“Your room.” His brother’s lazy voice sounded over the phone.

“What do you mean my room? The number Xavier, the number.” He was getting impatient.

“Dude, it’s nothing serious. I need not be in the hospital. I’m fine. Just come home already. I’m alright. Need not to worry.”

Zephyr felt so defeated at his brother’s request and sighed when Xavier hang up. He looked at his hurt hand. It was still bleeding. How could he just let it be? Muttering out a curse, he started walking back to the parking lot. He thought he might as well go home. It was a waste of time for him to go to the hospital. He kept looking at his hand as he walked when he suddenly bumped into someone. He was sure it was a person because he heard it whimpering. He looked down and realized it was a woman. He scoffed when he took a good look at her. She was wearing all white and he was all black. Polar opposites, he thought. By the looks of her, she looked too fancy in his eyes. That white corporate suit she was wearing shone through the night and screamed dollars. This woman was obviously loaded, he thought. Her hair was straight and long, so dark. He hadn’t seen her face yet until she looked up and he swore his breath was caught in his throat. He fell utterly frozen in the spot the moment he saw her face.

Angel.

That was the first thought that popped in his head as his eyes scanned her face— thick brows, prominent nose, and full lips. He also liked her cheeks. His hands stupidly wanted to pinch them. Eyes traveling lower, he felt disappointed realizing that she was fully covered. If only his eyes could pierce through the cloth and see what was beneath it. Seriously, Zephyr? Anyway, he thought she looked like an angel. So innocent. A perfectly opposite of him.

Snap out of it. You’re not here for this.

That voice in his head reminded him. Clearing his corrupted thoughts, he offered a hand to the woman and he cursed when she put her hand over his palm. He felt it. Ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran through his body, he pulled her up with ease. He watched her dust her butt.

Let me do it. That dangerous voice in his head thought.

“You owe me an apology.”

Her voice. It was the voice of an angel, music to his ears. But, why did he owe her an apology? He was a bit confused. Maybe, because he hurt her. Yes, it was probably that. When he sensed her staring at his face, he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He had to get away from her before he would break his promise and lose his sanity. Remembering his promise, he ignored the woman and walked past her.

 “Hey!”

The same angelic voice called out for him. He stopped and waited. He had his back to her when he heard her say, “It’s bleeding.”

Yes, sweetie. It is. You wounded my heart.

Cringing at the thought, he cursed at himself and continued walking towards his bike.

“Wait!” This time, he finally managed to completely ignore her, cranked his motorcycle, and left the angel in the dark.

I am Zephyr Hernandez and I ought not to break my promise, he reminded himself of that.

Life has led him to believe that justice matters and women were a bad distraction in his mission. Certain events that happened in the past had led him to be the person he was. Born and raised in Mexico, the twenty-nine-year-old Zephyr had been exposed to dangerous situations. He was not the man a woman would want to get involved with. Not because he seemed to be mysterious and dark, but because he lacked the essential requirements to fulfill a perfect romantic relationship with the opposite s*x and women wouldn’t like that. They would just demand something he knew he couldn’t give and he hated that.

Commitment.

Zephyr pushed the lens of his helmet up as, letting the cool breeze of the night caress his face. Beautiful. “Never let me see her again.” Who was he even talking to?

He always loved driving during the night. The face of the woman just popped in his head. No matter how hard he tried to erase the image, it was hardly possible. Every feature was printed in his brain. Every detail was hard to forget. It was so disturbing for him that he clutched on the handle harder. He drove faster, hoping that the thought woman would be discarded forever from his head.

“Mierda.”