Page 91 of Eyes Like Angel

“Where is she?”

“Somewhere around the church,” he guessed, his shoulders bopped. “She roamed around a lot—too fast for me to keep up.”

I sighed somewhat exasperatedly. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

As I strode passed Romano, without warning, he gripped my forearm in a swift action. The suddenness in my breath shuddered, gasping at an unforeseen conclusion.

“We’ll talk later,” Romano hissed sharply into my ear.

Attempted to haul myself, Romano subtly pulled me closer in an inch, kept me lock in place, gripping my forearm until my bone hurts.

In the corner of my eyes, Adrian clenched his fists flexed beneath the loose pockets, teeth beneath his sealed mouth grinded, and a muscle ticked in his pointed jawline, but he got near in gentlest, and in cleverest way possible for people to overlook at his sudden demeanor, unrecognizable from his usual cool self.

Like girls, men hated ruining their own image by impulse.

“I’ll see you then, Eva, if that’s even yourrealname,” Romano added, and released the grip on me. Up until now, Romano still doesn’t buy it when I said my actual name, especially when Adrian corrected him on the spot.

Without looking back, Adrian and I entered the church’s imposing halls, red carpet polished and vacuumed, and where the pew chairs at; the homeless were sheltered and fed at their seats, in their new attire, for the time being.

Leading ourselves up to the empty halls, he took by the large painted mural on the wall of Virgin Mary, carrying dying Jesus in her motherly arms, mourning for him, alongside of angels weeping and his apostles mourned for him as well. It’s beautifully lit painting, a solemn one, nonetheless.

But I was no mood for an inner talk or critic of the painting. My body collapsed against the famous biblical figures, stroking my pained forearm.

“I don’t think I ever see you look so…exhausted,” he said, in a husky voice, approaching closer.

The doors had been shut. And the air condition buzzed in, spreading its sharp bitter air.

“I’m fine,” I told him half-truth, eyes lowered on the floor.

The temperature didn’t aid the wavering sickness tied into me.

“My God, you looked so stiff back there,” he pointed out.

“Am I?” I said, numb.

“Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself,” he warned me again, growling.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I answered, inert.

“And yet, you’re doing it again,” he reminded.

Silence prevailed longer than our exchanged words, planted to one another.

“Sorry,” is all I said, muttering under my breath.

The last energy in me drained out; I barely catch on to what Adrian openly addressed.

During vital moments, that’s where I lost sight of my personal focus. Despite my attempts on running a best behavior to get through the day, I still like to believe I’ve done good for lasting long on the outside world.

His gloved hands mingled mine, his big and thin thumbs traced at the back of my gloved hand back and forth.

“He’s giving you trouble,” he snarled. “And the way he spoke to you was…weird.”

“Um, so, you heard it all?”

He nodded. “I did.”

Suspicious, my brows scrunched in soft movement. “How? We were so far away.”