48- My romantic lyric

48- My romantic lyric
What do you think about long-distance relationships? – I asked while Felitxay was braiding my hair.
It seems to me that long-distance love makes the four of us happy.
It's not always like that; I could live far from Christian and still be faithful – Jessica shot back.
Yeah, sure, yuquita… – I said with irony – We laughed.
I don’t know, I feel like the distance can overpower Rocío and me.
Haven’t you gone to see her?
I haven’t seen her for two weeks, but it’s not just that; it’s also that we spend too much time without talking, you know? It’s like we’re living disconnected, I mean, I’ve been in long-distance relationships before; remember Andrea?
Of course, the one who looked like Felitxay…
She didn’t look like me.
She didn’t look anything like you.
Look, Mía, we’ve already told you, we don’t like her or the vices she has. How can you envision a serious future with someone like her? – Jessica told me in the same tone my sister used to scold me.
Sure, you’re right; it’s easier to agree with you than to explain that she’s not like that because you don’t know her.
We won’t ever know her because she has never tried to get to know us, and you keep missing more classes to write in the labs or to travel to Mérida or San Juan.
Do you think we haven’t seen you, Mía? – Jessica asked; my heart was pounding – If we didn’t care about you, we would leave you alone, not help you, or pass you the notes. Because when you go to San Juan and miss Writing class on Saturdays, we are not obligated to help you, you know? And even less if it’s to see that girl.
It’s true, Mía; if she at least showed the same interest you do, you know? I mean, you’re always thinking about how to surprise Rocío, what to give her, where to take her, what to wear – Felitxay said with frustration – And what does she do for you? – Her eyes sparkled as if she were keeping a deadly secret – Besides that… not everything can be that; what does she do for you? – Feli stopped braiding my hair and looked at me like a wax doll.
Silence took over the café, while I had shrunk to the point of wanting to disappear. My friends were right; talking to them about Rocío was a mockery of myself.
A guy from engineering passed in front of us with his girlfriend, probably a communication student; they were waiting for the elevator. I felt relieved that the guy was incredibly handsome by heterosexual standards and that the girlfriend was so well put together that she completely distracted the girls and changed the subject of conversation.
That night, when I returned from university, I was very tired; my eyes were closing on their own. I took a shower and made myself some tea with honey and cinnamon. I took out my hairbrush and my expression cream; according to my mother, it was important to start preventing wrinkles from the age of twenty. Happiness was makeup; looking beautiful and radiant was the best way to hide so much sadness. My hair felt softer than usual; I brushed it and imagined Rocío combing it in a hammock for hours. She would brush my hair and let me take off her lace panties, the ones from Victoria’s Secret that she had bought especially for me. I felt my pink panties squeezing my hips, and I continued brushing my hair, spraying it with moisturizing cream.
My Flaca: I would like to wash your feet with my hair.
Don’t write her: Wow!! That would be so beautiful! I’ve never done anything like that.
My Flaca: Sending you a kiss.
My Romantic Lyricist: One back at you.
My Romantic Lyricist: I love you.
My Flaca: I love you too.
My Flaca: I love you a lot \-
My Romantic Lyricist: I want to kiss your back, the part of your body that drives me crazy.
My Romantic Lyricist: Can I?
My Flaca: You can bite my back, my love, just try not to tear my skin off, okay?
My Romantic Lyricist: I’ll try not to tear your skin off, but I can’t promise anything; you drive me crazy.
My Flaca: Then I’ll be left without a back.
My Romantic Lyricist: Okay, I promise.
My Flaca: In the end, will you travel to Brussels?
My Flaca: Will your mom send you the invitation letter so you can go see her?
My Romantic Lyricist: Yes, I will go.
My Flaca: I’m glad to hear that.
My Flaca: I’m so excited for you; this weekend, I’ll bring you the application you need to submit to the bank to buy euros, okay?
My Romantic Lyricist: Perfect, my flaca, thank you.
My Romantic Lyricist: I have the most wonderful girlfriend in the world.
My Romantic Lyricist: How did the job interview go?
My Flaca: I thought you’d forget. It went well; they hired me.
My Romantic Lyricist: That’s wonderful; congratulations. I knew you’d get it; your voice is very sexy.
My Flaca: I know; sometimes I wish I were a flight attendant.
My Romantic Lyricist: Be my princess!
My Romantic Lyricist: I get nervous when I fly.
My Flaca: I would hold your hand and squeeze it tightly. Plus, I’d serve you whiskey as many times as you wanted. I’d give you the window seat. But I’d like it to be a long flight, like yours to Brussels, at least eight hours flying with you so I can watch you sleep.
My Romantic Lyricist: Wow, now I want you to be a flight attendant and come with me.
My Flaca: If I were a flight attendant, I’d probably fall in love with you.