Nate

**Today**



We had lunch, scheduled our therapy appointments in pursuit of the mental health we promised each other, and after another round of intense moments with my girl, we're finally ready for another deep conversation. I take her hand and bring it to my lips, moving closer to start speaking:
"Wait, love, Cristina is calling me." Isabela raises her palm to me, sitting on the bed, wearing one of my shirts, which makes her look incredibly sexy. "Hi, girl..."
I trace every detail of this beauty’s body. Her hair is tied up in two messy buns, one on each side of her head. It makes her look like a little girl. Her eyes light up, widening as she hears something on the other end of the line. She seems about to burst with joy, moving around on the bed and laughing excitedly. I want to pay attention to what she’s talking about with that blue-haired nut, but how can I break free from the hypnosis of just looking at her? Isa is the most beautiful woman in the world. Her full lips only look more perfect when they’re wrapped around my cock.
I’m a little tense because I decided to tell her about my mom and also ask for some advice on how to reveal these things to Bia. This secret that Suzana and I share, but it’s time to bring it out and try to find some intervention to help my mom get better. I love her, even though she draws horrible parallels, comparing my disorder to demonic possession, which always hits me like a shot to the chest. She lives outside of reality, as if her mind is trapped in a bubble to escape the trauma she experienced, but she’s still my mom. It hurts to watch her not understand that my disorder is a hole in my personality, something I didn’t choose and that causes me pain.
Speaking of BPD[2], Isabela also just apologized to me for triggering me when she wanted to kick me out of her room after I found out she had scars on her wrists. She said she recognizes that it was one of her worst excesses to hurt me. I took the chance to promise never to make fun of her fear of snakes again.
Man, it still feels like I’m stuck in the most beautiful dream, and I’m scared to wake up and realize none of this happened. It’s so crazy to have her here, not trying to run away, wanting me just as much as I want her.
It was funny when Isa said, "I grabbed a few things from my dorm and brought them here." Her "few things" were clothes that took over my entire closet and beauty products that made me look like a slob. She has a specific cream for every part of her body. I use a shampoo that’s also a conditioner and body wash. I thought Bia was over the top, but Isabela outdoes her. But hey, I took the chance and used one of those trillion "hydrating" creams in the shower. And, dude, I don’t think my hair has ever felt so soft in my life.
There are still other things worrying me. I thought about letting my impulsive side come out when I felt betrayed by Ian. I gave him an important role here at the Revolt, to take care of the Forest. I trusted him, and the guy just screwed me over with my girl. He posted some random Story on his Instagram. I thought about barging in and confronting him. But Bianca advised me to act like nothing happened and investigate the blog. It was deleted the same day. However, I think I can still try to track down the email used to create it. I have it noted down in an old journal at my mom’s house, and Bianca said she has all that stuff saved in a folder on Drive.
Isa and I have made peace, we know neither of us did it, but we still need to find out who wanted to ruin our lives.
What would Ian gain from sabotaging my relationship? It doesn’t make sense, but my sister raised an interesting theory: Marcel.
I remember Ian pushing hard for me to break up with Isabela when I moved south. That a long-distance relationship wasn’t worth it. I got so mad that I told him to shut the hell up and never say that again. I was already hurting from thinking about being away from my girl, and the idiot threw that idea at me! He knew how much I loved Isa, for God’s sake!
Could it be that, in some way, Ian blames me for his brother falling from that building? It wouldn’t make sense, because Marcel recovered completely months later. Maybe he resents me for shutting down the Toca when I left... So, if it was Ian, how did he pretend to be my friend all these years? Interest? Jealousy? Whatever it is, I’m going to find out. Maybe it’s none of that, maybe he was just high and thought it was funny at the time... Maybe Isabela’s mom made the blog, or her stepfather, or that bastard of a father of mine. It could even have been that scumbag Caíque, that disgusting pig who hated Isabela. He could’ve found her diary at school... I don’t know. Man, my mind is spinning when I think about this.
"Did you already know, love?" Isabela asks excitedly, throwing herself on top of me as I lean back against the headboard. "Or were you the one who gave them a little push?"
"What are you talking about, My Sun?" I narrow my eyebrows, trying to break free from the sticky web of paranoid thoughts swirling in my mind.
"The Talent Festival," she says, letting out a high-pitched, excited squeal that almost deafens me. I’m still confused. "Wait, you don’t know about the Festival?"
"Of course, I do, I was the one who approved the request from the Dance course students. They asked for funding and permission for this ‘talent showcase’ of the students," I say, trying to understand where my little ray of sunshine is going with this. "Are you participating, is that it?"
"Yesssss!" she celebrates, showering me with quick kisses on the cheeks. "I’m going to open the Festival, and Cris is going to close it. I thought it was your little nudge, love."
"Seriously? That’s awesome!" I grab her by the shoulders and shake her, excited. I’m going to see my girl singing. My God! I’m going to watch the most amazing singer in the world perform for the first time. "Where’s my phone? I need to post to the world that my girl is performing at a show!"
"Stop being silly!" she laughs, giving me a light slap on the shoulder. "Did you have anything to do with me being chosen, or did I get picked because they actually liked me?"
"Stop putting yourself down! They chose you because they saw how perfect your voice is! And I wouldn’t interfere with the judges’ decision, even though I love you and think no singer in the world could open a show better than you. But I have to be fair and not meddle in things like that, which could affect the interests of all the students," I explain, because, as much as my heart is celebrating and full of pride that more people will see my girl’s talent, the Revolt is home to incredible artists. I would never reduce any of their chances. "Anyway, I’ve been kind of out of it these last few days because of our fights. I’d even forgotten the Festival is in two weeks."
"I signed up because Cris insisted, and I was supposed to get an answer after a test," she explains, leaning against my chest and treating me to her perfect grape scent, which makes me fall even more in love with this hottie. "Since we were fighting, I thought you might make sure I couldn’t be part of the show."
"Well, the truth is, I might’ve messed with you if I’d remembered about the Festival," I admit, earning a bite on my chin as punishment. "You’ve never performed in public, right?"
"No. And, oh my God, I need to hurry and plan a setlist," she says, starting to panic. "I’ll have twenty minutes to perform."
"Congratulations, my love! Go ahead and invite your friends from that tattoo studio and your grandma. I’ll be watching from the front row," I say, proud and eager, smiling at the happiness radiating from her beautiful face. She’s amazing at singing, and I have no doubt she’ll crush it. And I’m going to tell everyone that the girl singing on that stage is mine. "You’re an incredible singer."
"I wrote a song, did you know that? I think I’ll end my set with it."
"Really? Sing it for me now and make me your first audience," I ask, brushing aside a few strands of hair that have escaped from her buns and tucking them behind her ear.
Her pale cheeks take on a rosy hue, blushing with embarrassment at my suggestion.