Bubble Gum Kisses

**Kapittel 8** ***Vanessa***

**I stared at the guy before me with wide**, gobsmacked eyes. I had always thought that meeting him again would be inevitable, but I didn't expect that it would happen much sooner as in right now, at this moment. I couldn't believe it. Clutching my chest where my achingly pounding heart resided, I brushed my eyes from the soles of his cleats up to the edges of the strands of his damp, unruly dark hair that I always tended to run my fingers since time immemorial. Back then. The phrase rendered a bitter smile to carve on my face as I scrutinized him. He had grown a lot broader and taller compared to before. His looks had gone mature and sharper too. However, it seemed that not only did his physical attributes change. Looking at the way his lips curved into a proud sneer, his eyes that had gone to a deeper shade of abyssal black playfully looked at my trim figure. That gaze and leer made me feel as if I was... belittled.

I bit my lower lip harshly when a realization came. This guy standing in front of me wasn't Friso, whom I used to love and know so much. This was Friso Drew Ezekiel de Vries, the son of a billionaire who was born with a golden spoon shoved in his mouth. A person that I barely knew, a stranger.

A small poke pulled me away from my apparent continuous staring and endless reverie. I gazed down and saw Zach gazing at me, eyes wide and full of wonder while his mouth was frothing with bubbles of saliva. "Van...nie..." he trailed off, struggling to call my name. "You... okaaay?" he asked, his lips lathering with more bubbles.

Startled, I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket and painstakingly wiped all the saliva off his mouth. No matter how much he thought that he was now grown up and didn't want to be treated like a baby, he was still a baby to me. I wonder, would I still look at him as a little child even when he grew up taller than me?

"It's been a long time, huh?" the same voice from earlier asked with curiosity was clearly smeared on it.

Suddenly, the presence of a heavy atmosphere came. It was like the skies had fallen and as pressuring me down to the deepest of the ground, rendering all the temporary ease, I felt when Zach fled. It pulled me away from my thoughts of fleeing and the tension from earlier came back. My whole body felt as if heaven and Earth sandwiched me in between, so heavy, so woozy. Clenching my shivering hand into a fist, I silently prayed for my unsteady, palpitating heart to be tranquil.

Gulping, I answered his question, "Y-Yeah..." not looking into his eyes. I didn't know why but all my courage was swept away when I looked into those dark, void, frisky eyes. Those eyes... they used to look at me with warmth, gentleness, and love. I was startled when those spheres suddenly moved to the little boy standing demurely on the cart, observing every inch of him like some kind of judgemental matron.

unedited

"Your son?" he asked out of the blue, catching me off guard. I've always expected these questions from people but him. I had been contemplating my old friends that I wanted to meet again and strangers that I'd soon meet, anticipating them to ask if Zach was my son, but Friso never came into my mind. Never did I expect that we'd meet soon, too. After all, he wasn't from Scarsendale and only came here whenever his parents dropped him off at Aunt Rebecca's.

My heart began palpitating, and my hands were getting cold. I was nervous. Why was I getting nervous? Was it because of the way he coldly scrutinized my younger brother or because of his sudden question? If it was the latter, why would I be nervous? I had nothing to hide. Or am I... scared of what he would think of me?

I hastily waved my hands to gesture no and spoke my denial, "No, he-" before I could finish what I was about to say, he carried Zach off the cart and into his arms. Afraid of him dropping or hurting my little brother, I stumbled forward in their direction.

Zach was still very young, and his bones weren't strong enough that he could walk on his own, let alone carry his own back. He needed to be held carefully with a firm grip. If Friso wouldn't hold him tightly enough, the kid wou- A glint in the smirking man's eyes rendered me to gasp silently. Why was he looking at Zach that way? He gazed at my brother as if he had ill gushes, or was I just imagining things?

"Hiiiii." Saliva bubbles began lathering Zach's mouth once again as he spoke to the man carrying him, reaching out his hands to touch the latter's face.

It surprised me. Zach wasn't the type of baby that was fast to be fond of any person and tended to cry when his proximity was close to a stranger. Back then, I was only able to carry him when he was already six months old because he cried when I tried to hold him, let alone touch him. Mom and dad struggled to take turns carrying and taking care of him since I couldn't because of the little guy's pickiness. I remembered the time when he saw my friends for the first time in our previous home, and he cried loudly. Thankfully, he got used to us when time passed on.

Friso held out his free hand so his index finger could poke Zach's puffy cheek. "How cute," he complimented, his glaring eyes beginning to soften.

Anxious, I held out my wobbly arms, trying to say steadily, "Please hand him over. He needs to be placed back in the cart."

He turned his face to look at me as if he was going to raise a brow at me but didn't protest. "O...kay," he leaned down to hand the kid over since my head only reached his shoulder. My whole body stiffened when our fingers touched as he carefully placed my younger brother in my arms. I bit my inner cheek to restrain myself when his warm breath fanned over my cheek, tickling me. Get a grip, Vanessa!

"So, who's the father?" he asked as I placed Zach, who looked at me with wonder in his huge eyes, back in the cart. He must be wondering what was going on, how innocent. I smiled softly but soon frowned after realizing Friso's question. "I'm sorry?" I asked, thinking I had heard him wrong, knowing that I made it clear that Zach isn't my son.

"I'm asking who's the baby's father," he repeated his question, then made an addendum that triggered me, "I didn't know you've already got laid early. Oh, you did get laid early, right? Back in ninth grade. Too bad I wasn't your fir—" *SLAP!*

I stopped him from finishing his sentence by throwing a hard slap across his cheek. Anger began seeping inside my chest, and all my blood ran up to my already flushing face. All the emotions that I had left here at Scarsendale back then, the pain, the anguish, the frustration. I threw them all with one slap at the person who caused my demise. His lack of faith, trust, and will to listen was why I left!

"I have never thought that you are this kind of person," I asked through gritted teeth, my nostrils flaring and my face heating up in vexation. "What happened to you? You weren't like this before!"

"I have never thought that you are this kind of person," I asked through gritted teeth, my nostrils flaring and my face heating up in vexation. "What happened to you? You weren't like this before!"

He looked at me for a moment. His gaze held something that I could not name. But it did not last long, and his eyes pierced at me like I was some sort of disgusting creature. He stepped closer to me, to which I stepped back. His lips were curled in a sardonic leer as he spoke, "Unfortunately, sweetheart, people change..." he trailed off and began stepping closer to me, and I stepped back as a response.

"Especially when some bitch hurt them." The series of stepping forward and back continued until I felt my back had hit the wall with the dairy section beside it. I was partially trapped. I cowered on my spot in fear, looking down at his feet as he came closer and closer. "They change..." he said and placed a hand on the wall, completely trapping me. "In a bad way," he finished speaking, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up at him.

Right there and then, I was lost in his gaze. I remained frozen on my spot as I stared into his deep, abyssal orbs. I was mesmerized. I felt like I was under some sort of spell. I had always been fixated on those dark eyes that'd stare at me with such warmth back then. But now, that fixation had become a stupor when I no longer so that warmth. His stare held such cruel contempt.

His eyes held a ruthless gaze like he was staring intently at the deepest parts of my being, and he was judging it. Every piece of me, he was judging it. He was blinded by all the hate I had caused against him, and it seemed that I couldn't do anything about it. The Friso that I used to love. He was gone.

**

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