TBBM XVII. Roma's Crush

"Why do you always call me ugly?"

"I didn't. I just copied you. You called your self ugly once."

"I?" I dropped the fork on the plate.

"If you didn't want me to call you ugly, why didn't you ever say so?"

"I was saving it for a special day."

"You didn't have to wait for tomorrow to want to be called pretty, if that's so important to you," he said, seriously. "Actually, I think---"

"You think what?" I followed-up.

"Nothing," he dismissed, licking his lower lip. "You're ugly."

+++

I joined Roma to her place after my office work. She told me it was just their rest house but it was still big.

She lived alone in that spacious house, except when her aunt, who lived two doors away usually dropped by. Her eldest brother studied in the National University while her second brother studied in another international school in another city. Her parents lived in the US.

"Why did you choose to study here? You obviously can study abroad," I remarked.

"Did you want to study abroad?" she threw it back to me.

"Well..." Roma roughly knew what I was going through. I told her last year. "Once I've become pretty as you, maybe? And rich."

"I told you, I'm not rich," she laughed, as she set pounded rice flakes on a plate. "My parents were."

"That's about the same to me."

'Nope," she slid over to my side a salad plate full of the flakes. "Remember I told you that I'm acing for self-independence? Remember the crush I told you about before? That was five years ago. We were in highschool back then. I told him I liked him but he said I lived like a princess so he'd never be a match for me."

"Sad," I think I remembered that story. "Was he ghetto-broke like I bloody am?"

"Ghetto!?" she laughed again. "You seriously lacked self-confidence. You're not that poor! Look at your medical fees!"

"I mean... that's why we're ghetto-broke."

"Hey, since when did you learn to swear like that?" she turned her head to me, wondrous.

"Huh?"

"...like you bloody are?" she poked.

"That's not swearing," No! Did I just speak his word? That boasty, inconsiderate, belittling guy always said that word. "Sorry. I just heard it somewhere---must've got stuck in my ears."

"You mean..." her eyes flickered. "You heard from Red?"

"Uhm..." suddenly, I felt my blood rushing to my head.

"See," she teased. "How did you become close like that? You have so much secrets now, huh?"

"No!" my blood boiled. "You thought we were nice and close. But you just don't know what's behind everything. He used to bully me allot. And, because we looked like we're close, the PAC girls always go after me, like I'm some sort of a competition they should eliminate. I hate it. I mean, if they want him, they can take him away and I'll be happy."

"For real?" she didn't look so convinced.

"I have my James," I smiled, contented.

"I see," Roma looked away, deep in thought. For some reasons, it felt like she was hiding something from me. We were close but she felt distanced sometimes.

"So, back to your crush. How's he like?"

"They're well-off. But he liked simple girls. Simple like you."

"Simple, huh? Why don't you just come to him to talk?"

"I was reckless when I was in highschool. I used my parents' money allot---to get what I wanted. I was more like the Angie who used to bully you allot. That boy made me change. But it's too late now, I guess."

"Married?"

"Nope."

"Then, why too late? It's never over until he's married," I urged.

"You think so? Actually, he was very close now to a friend of mine. Let's just say that I didn't want to create a rift between me and that person."

Why were rich girls so complicated? If I was that rich, and pretty, I'd go and find that boy whom I liked and tell him about my feelings. Why did it have to be so complicated?

"C'mon. You're pretty! He'll definitely choose you," I cheered her on, gracefully, I hoped.

"You..." her voice broke.

I tittered. She was such a jokester.

#IHopeSheEndsUpWithHerLove