"You know how to play this thing?" My eyes widened. My index finger pointing at the wooden brown acoustic guitar in Auton's hand.
Sure, I know I always see this on the Talk and Chill but never have I imagined that Auton can also play. I thought he was always the type of man who's busy going through different shooting ranges. After all, he was a criminology student.
But no one knows everyone. Maybe, you can't conclude that someone is something just because he looks like it.
"It's my hobby," he said. His back now leaning against the car front, his right leg bent and the strap of the guitar hung around his nape. His fingers were plucking some strings, creating small music.
"Do you want me to sing anything for you?" He shifted his gaze on me, but my eyes were preoccupied with his face and the music he was making. He chuckled. "But my voice is not as great as yours, so don't expect," he added. Shaking his head as he started to strum the strings.
My mind then visualized an artist. Comparing to the man who usually wears a blue uniform and cap, this version of Auton Smith in front of me was different and much more calming.
Thinking about it, he seemed like he would look better if he would always hold a guitar. With his long, wavy hair and facial features, I'm sure he would pass as the main vocalist of a rising band. Or better yet, a famous one.
"You're not speaking, do I look great holding this thing?" He pointed out at the instrument and laughed. "Well then, I guess I'm gonna sing something for you. I swear you don't have the right to leave me after you hear my voice no matter how awful it is."
He then started to strum his guitar. A familiar melody suddenly went out of that wood, and although I had been used to that ever since I started working as a performer, to see a man this masculine and a person whom I met as a stern and arrogant one, it was fascinating.
My eyes widened. My heart started to pound hard and fast as I saw him standing in front of me. With a guitar on his hands, man bun, and smile.
"A hundred and five is the number that comes to my head..." he started to sing the first lyrics of an old, yet famous song right now. It was Marry Me, by Jason Derulo.
And though I know this is not that suited for our situation and he isn't proposing...it felt like it. My cheeks were burning red. I hid my hands behind my back and started to pinch each other. I bit my lips.
"I'll say will you marry me?" His smile widened. He isn't staring at the headstock nor the frets. His eyes were on me. He moved his brows up and down, making me chuckle a bit.
But my heart feels so full. He kept on singing, and though he told me that his voice was not as good at me, I beg to disagree. He sounded great! I have never encountered someone who made my heartbeats raise just by singing. Only this man. The corners of my eyes started to water. I averted my gaze as a tear escaped from my right eyes.
Heck. Why am I crying?
"What's wrong?" He stopped playing and immediately attended to me. I covered my face with my palms, refusing to glance at him even when he was holding my arms. "Tayla?"
"Nothing...I was just, happy," I uttered and faced him. His eyes met mine. It was brooding and dark like he wants me to know that he was worried. I smiled and cupped his cheek. "The ice cream is melting, we won't be able to enjoy it." I shifted the topic and was about to move back when he held my waist and slowly hugged me.
"I'm afraid, I don't want you crying. You are happy yet you are crying. I don't want any of it." he pushed my hair back, combing it through his fingers. I pushed his chest a bit to see more of his face.
"Silly. Grooms will beg just to see their brides crying." I laughed. He lifted his hands and wiped the remaining tears off my cheeks.
"I thought you are a tough girl. You looked like it. Turns out, you are a crybaby!" He pinched my cheeks. My face scrunched up and slapped his hands. I raised my right hand positioned it in a fist and signed that I will punch him but he held in and put it down. "My baby..." he cockily said and kissed the tip of my nose before running towards the car, making me yell his name.
"Let's go home! We have class tomorrow!" he called inside the car, his car window open as he waved his hand on me. I bit my lips, stifling a smile as I walk towards the passenger seat.
--
Days fly so fast when you are happy. Indeed. I don't know if it was just me, but days felt lighter even when I am still doing my usual routine. Terren would call twice a week, assuring me that he was just okay. Auton was still the same. We'll go out when we aren't busy, he'll fetch and drive me home.
Those things are satisfying enough not to make me feel lonely just like before.
"You should get this one, it looks great on you!" Auton handed me an old rose smocked off-shoulder dress ending above the knee. Just by looking at it, I knew it would hug my body.
We are inside a mall. He told me he would buy new clothes and I thought it was for him! Turns out, he dragged me here to buy me these expensive things.
Auton Smith and his money. I shook my head.
I don't want to wear something like that. I said to myself. I glanced at Auton. He has this proud smirk on his face, and although I wanted to tell him that I don't like it, I don't want to remove that look.
I sighed. "Sure, I'll try if it fits," I surrendered. I did what I need to do, and I hate how he knew about my size. Maybe it was the benefit of touching my waist or hugging me? He was able to identify whether something fits me just by looking at it!
He made me wear several clothes, both in different types and colors, but everything is not according to my style. It felt like he was indirectly telling me about the things he wanted to see me wearing, but I didn't voice it out. It was his money, after all.
We stopped shopping when he complained about having a lot of paper bags in his hands. I offered him help, but he wouldn't allow me to do it.
He was really weird.
We are already in front of my door when he dropped all the things in my sala and stood in front of me. He looked tired. But he looked different today. I furrowed my brows.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked, curious as to why he looks like this.
He heaved a deep breath, tucking my hair behind my ear as he showed me a weary smile.
"My parents wanted to meet you."