Hello, mate

I had to bend my neck three times when I thought I saw a charming man sitting with his group of friends on the center sofa of the bar, which is a bit far from the backyard where I am at.

I call it charming. Oftentimes they call it… breathtakingly… unworldly.

I think they are all exaggerated.

The navy-blue polo with three buttons off looks good on him, and the denim pants had him more mature than his age. I took a glimpse of my outfit at the mirrored window that is a bit nearer to the backyard. The ones reflecting him to me.

Mama's designer made me wear a short empire-waist black party dress that reach only before my knees. Trey, who is my mom's designer, partnered it with a red and white flower crown, which my dark green hair, highlighted again.

Growing up, I never hated my hair color. Nor my medium-toned skin. Nor my what they call "super-thin" lips. Not even my normal-looking orbs.

I never tried to hate something about me just because some people do.

People fuss too much, but yeah, I won't listen. Why would I?

They say I am a brat for not accepting and recognizing my imperfections...but since when do these colors represent imperfections? Every color is beautiful.

The girls are evidently eyeing him for about an hour. And I feel like he knows but he is ignoring it all.

It is my first time seeing him. But I have always heard about him from Tita Agatha, who always pays a visit to our house every summertime. She is my father's and mother's bestfriend since high school. She is also the mother of the birthday celebrant tonight.

Lyccon Reigensther.

His name cannot be unheard of in the town and even other places.

Tita Agatha, fuss so much on how she was always troubled because of girls, unendingly fuming for his son. He is just 18, but girls 30 years old and below wanted his hand for marriage. She told us that she even had to face an almost heart attack when one of the girl's parents drew out a knife near her neck when she disagreed with their proposal.

She also noted that if not because of her brother that night, the werewolf world could never afford to see a pretty face like hers anymore. She is with all her dangling and shining jewelries when she said that.

She always wears things like that. No doubt she always stands out from the crowd. Even if we are all just a shadow in the hall, she shines.

Literally.

"Do you want to marry my son?"

One thing again... why is she always popping out of nowhere?

I withdrew my stare from the window to meet her alluring purple eyes which always make me wonder. She is a warm character. But her orbs, it's like it is always... soul-less.

"Tita, for the hundred times, no."

She disapprovingly pouted her red lips before she brashly sat next to me. Her eyes flew to Lyccon's reflection in the mirror and sighed. "Sometimes I thought of not letting him out of my vaggy."

Confused, I let my brow meet at her last word.

First, she keeps urging an 11 years old kid to marry his son, who in that matter has a lot of options to choose from.

Second, it seems like she has her own vocabulary.

"I am so stressed out raising a damn ugly son!"

My brows automatically raise up. Hmmm.

"Yeah, your son is like someone's unwanted poop," I unmindfully remarked to support her.

I just didn't notice that someone is heading his way towards us. Noticing that the clothes I am raking a while ago is now infront of me, my head lifts up to come face to face to a strikingly forbidden epitome.

He is…

He has tan skin, way darker than mine. His shoulders are broader than what I imagine when girls talk about it on my way to school, and even in school. His dark brown hair is in its ruffled state but I feel like it suits him most. I can't think of him having a bad hairstyle when I stare more of his sharp clenched jaw. His brows are thick. He has thick and vicious lips which I suddenly imagined partnered with honey as he licks them up right now. He has those unusual… deep gold orbs.

And I just want to run and never look back when those are directed to me.

They are hundred times soul-less than her mother's. It felt…uncomfortable on me.

My 11 years old self cannot handle all the heavy and sore stare.

"Son, I would like you to meet-"

"I will not marry her."

My mouth drops down at his words. My eyes dilated in shock.

His voice is not that loud, but with all the attentive ears and eyes around us, my cheeks burned up. I suddenly cannot dare to look into anyone's eyes at the moment, so the shameful me, walk out of the event to evade the out-of-the sudden embarrassment he stirred in me. I can even feel someone video recording me.

A table with girls of my batch, giggled. Some pitted me.