Turns out he's a drug dealer - CH. 5, p.2

"Life begins at night." - Charlaine Harris

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As I stormed off from the guy I was telling myself to hate, I noticed someone's gaze at me and looked around the holy hall. It wasn't him, was it? Could it be Chase, confused about me dancing with a stranger? Or was it Sofia after all, searching for me as something had been going wrong?

But as I found myself in two pairs of blue eyes, I realized that none of my assumptions had been true. My mother's eyes were observing me, as if I had done some terrible mistake. What could it be? Or was I just disappointing in general?

Her eyes narrowed when I walked towards, and as I walked towards her even further I realized that she wasn't just mad. She was furious, with a slight sense of disappointment. I couldn't disappoint. I never did.

She was the one that showed me what disappointment felt like. It was one of the emotions I despised the most, along with pity or vulnerability. I pushed it off like no other emotion, as it felt like it would eat me alive once I'd let it happen.

"What are you wearing?" she greeted me and I mumbled, "A top and the skirt you got me last month."

"Do you even know what kind of trouble you're causing in my head wearing this? You know how much this means to me. This was supposed to be one of the evenings for my business associates and me. We've worked weeks on this. And you show up in this cheap-looking skirt and instead of supporting me by greeting the people I needto keep this business alive. You ruined this day for me, just like you ruined the charity event last year when you didn't care about anything except yourself and these little friends of yours."

I gasped. My eyes turned glassy, but I held the tears back. Crying in front of my mother? I'd rather die. I could picture the amusement on her face if tears would drop. No, no I had to hold them back.

"What have you been doing for the time you have been here? Having fun? There are more important things in life than fun, Melea. I thought I taught you that."

I remained silent. Protesting never helped anyways. Just get through it, this is nothing new to you. Nothing new.

My mum sighed, "I would welcome it if you wouldn't talk to anyone involved in my business this evening. I don't want you to say something wrong."

She ran her fingers through my hair, and put my left hair behind my ears. The cruel words she said so carefully almost sounded sweet, but I knew their meaning, "I have to go. There'll be speeches later on. You'll sit with the Pieterse's, I hope that's alright."

I only agreed with a nod. Sitting with Veronica and her family was likely to be calmer and more pleasant than sitting alone with my mother this night. She did not wait for my approval, she simply turned around and walked away. And I stood there, captured in my own world of music and distress.

As the music was pausing for a second, announcing that a different song would be played soon, I looked up and surprisingly, Taylor had gazed at me. I was trapped in his gaze; his eyes were so full of sorrow that mine were about to water up, but I stopped them from doing so shortly before. He must've seen the hurt in my eyes. Did he just know me to well for the little time we shared together? Or was this something he had been confronting with on the usual, like I had been?

He gestured me with a glance to come over, and I nodded slowly and followed his suggestion once more.

"Are you okay?", he asked, and I responded with a slight nod, convincing enough to look real; well, for my family at least.

It didn't seem to convince him, as he responded with a smirk, and then said, "let's get out of here."

He took my hand, and intertwined our fingers with one another. This kind of intimacy was new to me, strange almost, but as our fingertips touched, it gained reassurance and warmth.

He started running, our fingers still tangled into one another, and with the other I held my top up because it kept sliding down. We almost bumped into a group of businessmen, well, suit-wearers as I called them, but Taylor did not care. He just laughed, apologized quickly and commenced running further as if something would chase after us.

He was so carefree, running through the crowd; the eyes sparkling, the corners of his mouth twitching for a smile. He was with me in this moment, and in the small moments we shared together, he seemed so playful, as if he wanted me to feel just as carefree as he was by nature. He let the joy of small things give him such happiness, that his laughter came deep from within. His carefreeness gave him some kind of youthfulness that I admired.

We ran up the stairs of the building; a small spiral staircase was hid in the back of one of the hallways – a sign with the saying watch your feethung up right next to it. It was easy to trip on, so it was important to concentrate on your walking - you'd fall down otherwise. As we "climbed" up the tiny staircase, I'd realized just how hidden beautiful places could be; because up there was a terrace, on top of the residence. I had been here for quite some events, it was one of the residences clients liked to book more their matter, but I never knew that there had been this hidden gem on top of it. Up here it was like looking down at the world. I could see trees, flowers, lakes, but as I turned 90 degrees, the city life enlightened the down-world.

Taylor sat himself down on the ground, and I followed him doing so as well. His head turned to mine, while mine remained on the beautiful view in front of me.

"What happened?", he commenced a conversation and I swallowed before answering, "what always happens. I do something to upset her, she tells me off and I act like it's nothing. The next day she's going to apologize, I'll forgive her and the following day, it'll start all over again."

Taylor remained silent for a moment, thinking about my words. I gazed at him for a moment and realized the look on his face was rather sorrowful than full of judgement. He then slowly sighed, and confessed, "my father never went to any of my school or general events. I asked him to be here today, but he didn't come. If he needs me, I'm there, right next to him. In return, I'll get to remain silent. And when my sister asks me if he'll ever come back even though she pretends as if she doesn't need him, I have to tell her the truth. That he won't come back for her. But somehow, I still search for his recognition," he sighed again, "my father was never a father. But I think your mother was. She simply forgot how to be one."

We remained silent for a moment. He was right. My mother was not very affectionate. She shoved me off most of the time, but she loved me. No matter how many times she'd hurt me, I knew she loved me. But Taylor seemed like he'd never know that for sure. Like his father never showed him what love was. As if he would wonder for the rest of his life if the way his father treated him was how love was supposed to feel like.

He turned his head to the city lights again, as if he couldn't bear to say the next sentence if he had to look into my eyes, "you can't change someone who doesn't see an issue in their actions," his voice was only a whisper. I knew he wasn't talking about my mum anymore.

"Or at least that is what I heard," he added quietly, then turned his head back to me and added, "if you someday find the courage to tell her off, I'll buy you anything you want. Even one of these stupid little hair clips that you put in your hair tonight," he winked.

"Stop insulting my hair!" I supressed a laugh, but remained serious on the outside, "it makes no sense, why just clip one side of it back, and not both?"

"You really want to make this conversation about fashion and trend sense? You're a drug dealer but dress like Leonardo DiCaprio in his 80's. And not in his good times," I went on, and he chuckled, "that's a weak comeback but fine, I'll take it."

He looked down to the silver watch on his wrist and explained, "the speeches are about to start any minute. You want to go down?"

We got up and walked down the staircase, but just as going up had been hard, not tripping as we went down was even harder. As we finally made our way through the hallways we had passed on our way up, our ways split near the tables; I reached mine only seconds before the speeches started.

"Where were you? The speeches are about to start!", Veronica whispered towards my direction as I sat down at the table, "good to see you!", I greeted Isabel, Veronicas Mum. She gave me a warm smile and turned back around.

"I was on the rooftop with Taylor, he's new," I explained, as I knew Veronica did not like new people in her closer friend group. But to my surprise, she shrugged her shoulders and answered, "I know who Taylor is."

"Huh – why's that?", I asked, but remembered that he had been with Derek tonight too. Derek knew people from all over town – he may had been friends with Taylor before he transferred, and that's how Veronica knew him. Nevertheless, I could not ignore how nervous she was when I asked her this question. But it wasn't worth asking her anyways – if she was nervous, she wouldn't answer.

"Did you talk to Derek?", I therefore asked instead and she stopped biting her bottom lip out of nervousness, "no, why would I?"

She earned an eye roll from my side, " I thought we agreed on you being more compromising and..."

"Good Evening everyone!", a guy, not older than forty, appeared on the stage the tables were positioned to look up to, "my brother here," he pointed at the host, "has his fifteenth wedding anniversary today. Fifteen years, that is quite a time, isn't it? I remember, meeting Alison for the first time. It was..."

The speech went on and on. I had always been intrigued by weddings their celebrations, but this day had been exhausting enough. I was so tired that I wasn't able to catch everything the different speakers said. After the brother, the best friend followed, after the best friend, the maid of honour. Then, the mother. I nipped on my glass of champagne, and as the liquid ran down my throat I realized how sore it was. I should drink some water instead.

I looked up to search for a water can at the table, as I spotted brown, messy hair, a white flannel topped with a darker-coloured blazer, paired with chic shoes and a grey jean. Taylor was pushed onto the stage by the host. He whispered something into the host's ear, who's response was a loud laughter. The dark-haired lad tried to go off stage, but was pushed back onto it every time he tried doing so. He smiled for a short moment, then went to the mic, that was placed in the middle of the stage. He took it from the thing that it was attached to and stood still.

"As you're all aware of, this man has been married for fifteen years today," he glanced at the host, "most of you are probably asking yourselves how an irrelevant seventeen-year-old like me could know someone like Theodore. Well, he is actually a business partner of my father. Probably the only one that ever talked to me for more than five minutes."

Laughter quaked through the audience like an earthquake. I smiled. Though the last couple of speeches were absolutely marvelous and beautifully written, the audience was exhausted from listening to the many details that were needed to understand the speech fully. This little comment was funny, sadistic almost; it wakened them after a time of tiredness

"I wasn't planning on speaking today. But sometimes, the most unexpected things happen to make us the happiest," he cleared his throat, "like Theodore marrying Alison."

Taylor took the mic, and walked around the stage, "I am not sure if any of you know Eminem," a frown grew on my face and looked over to Veronica, who just shrugged her shoulders.

Who would think it was normal to bring a rapper into a wedding speech? But it was adorable in a way – it was personal, rare. It was something else.

"Anyways," he went on, "he once said: And right before I drown, she resuscitates me. And that's love to me."

He looked at the crowd, searching with his eyes for something, but I wasn't sure what, "being with someone, loving someone, is suffering. The feeling of suffocating on the feelings that you can't explain is suffering, the feeling of suffocating on the feeling of devotion is suffering, the feeling of suffocating on the feeling of rejection is suffering."

His eyes were still searching for something, as he went on, "but loving someone is also rescuing. It is the salvation you sometimes can only hope for. Redemption from misery. And I hope that one day, I will find someone rescuing me the way Theodore saved Alison."

He raised his champagne glass that he held in his other hand, "Tonight, I want us all to not only celebrate Alison and Theodore's marriage, but the way they've reassured each other in times of sadness, glorified each other in times of happiness and succoured each other in challenged times. Cheers!"

He raised his champagne glass even more, and the audience clapped. He looked through the crowd, and somehow, his gaze got stuck on me. Everything about him was so new, yet, I wanted it to be familiar. Why was that?

The audience still clapped, but he stood there with one button of his shirt opened, the champagne glass in the left, and the mic in the right hand, gazing at me as if I was the only one within his sight. Without conscience awareness, a smile lightened up my face. Good speech I formed with my lips. Thanks, hereplied back without saying the actual words. He went off stage, and after a while, music played once more.

This was one of the nights where you danced your feet off, knowing, that on the following day you would regret it because your feet would be numb and your head would have to deal with a horrible headache.

But that night, I did not care, my feet fled over the floor, with my loved ones surrounded, and everything about that night felt right.

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