Hunted By The Player

"Answer the phone!" I scream to myself for the fifth time after the fifth call goes to voicemail. Where has he gotten himself? He told me he would be off today. Did something serious happen?

I grab the keys to the new car I got from my parents for my birthday last month and hit the elevator button hard, over and over. As if that would solve anything, Selena! Once I'm in my car, and before starting the engine, I try calling one more time. Mailbox again. More than shit. I hate it. I just hate it when people don't answer! Why do they even have cellphones?

I get on the road and take the fourth avenue, which has good traffic; there's a lot of cars, but we're moving. When I arrive, I look up at the building. Looking from the outside, there is no way to see movement on the fourth floor, so since I already know the password for the door, I go in and take the elevator.

Instead of using the bell, I decide to surprise him. He hates surprises, but since we talked so little this week, he's sure to be happy to see me. The entire room is neat and empty, the curtains drawn, and the only illumination is the setting sun in the late afternoon. I heard movement in the room and follow that direction. Noises in the room ahead become more intense.

I approach his room and see something wrong. My boyfriend is all sweaty on the bed, and there is a woman on top of him who is moaning with pleasure.

I go static, and every cell of my body freezes when I realise that the blonde woman has been known to me since I've known myself: Samantha. I'm unable to even force a tear. The very next moment I see Mateo is staring at me, his face a little pathetic and scared!

I run back swiftly to the elevator that is still waiting on this floor, luckily. When I get back inside my car, I start it up quickly and see Mateo in the rearview mirror running towards me. He only has a sheet around his body. I break down crying right there as I screech the car back onto the street. How could he? He said he loved me. Never, never look him in the face again, Selena, I tell myself, noticing my red eyes in the rearview mirror. I can still see my ex-boyfriend standing almost naked on the street.

I have received flowers for the second week in a row now. Today marks the two-month anniversary of that episode that now passes by me unnoticed. Mateo is better at apologies than I imagined. He was treating me like a princess even though we didn't see each other as often. I was taking my time at forgiving him. People around us are still talking about it, but I don't give a shit about them.

I call him again to thank him for the flowers. It's on the fourth call.

"Hello?" A sensual, female voice answers my phone. "Mateo is in the shower and can't answer. Can he call later back later?"

"What do you mean call later?" Her voice to me is unfamiliar. "I'm his cousin. Can you inform me if he is at home?" I lie to the bitch on the other end of the line. I grab my car keys and run out of my building.

"Yes, do you want to leave a message?" The woman seems helpful... having sex with my boyfriend.

"No thanks. Just let him know that Selena called." I am utterly cynical and don't even bother to say goodbye to her. I just hang up.

I make my usual way to his house. My eyes are filled with tears for believing his damn words once more. Why did he fucking do it again?

I ring the doorbell and the woman I suspect had answered the phone opens the door for me. She is wearing a T-shirt and a bra underneath, and I don't even know if she is wearing panties. I felt crestfallen as I saw her wearing my old sweatshirt that I had left at his place, my anger is now at the extreme.

"Get out of my way. Where is he?!" I say, pushing her aside to enter the room. She starts to say some things out loud, but I don't care about her. I want him to look in my eyes and admit he cheated on me again. I barge into the bedroom and Mateo jumps out of bed in his underwear.

"You did it again!" I shout. "You betrayed me again!" Anger and despair fuel me. My heart aches because of it.

"What are you doing here?!" Now he is the one who is screaming, which is the first time this has happened. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

I think for a second and calm down.

"I love you. Why are you doing this to me?" My tears fall like a waterfall.

"I do not love you. Now stop your shit and get out of here now." He points to the front door.

"You cannot do this to me, you insensitive idiot. You are a monster! You're only good for catching piranhas."

"Then remember you were one of them."

My head explodes at that. I lunge at him to slap him, but he stops me. He hits me in the face so hard I fall to the ground, crying.

I don't know what gets into me but I get with a new found strength and go to hit him. He tries to stop me again and being in the military had the strength and the moves but I dodged, slapped him once, kicked him in the groin and punched him a couple of times until he fell down in pain and I kicked his dick hard again

I look at the woman behind me. She looks at me in horror. Mateo is still talking, mainly superficial-level swear words, lying on the ground. I become aware, or at least my head stops spinning, and I walk out of there shattered.

"I hate you! Stay with your bitches and you will reap what you sow."

It is the last thing I say.

I'm in my room packing my bags for my big university trip. I am starting my fifth term at Fashion Design College this semester, and the college is affording me this trip for extracurricular courses. Lost in the mess of my clothes, shoes and other items, I hear screams in the next room.

"Cooollll, this guy from Barcelona is playing too wickedly!"

My younger brother Miguel is watching the grand debut of a football player in the Spanish team. I notice he is handsome, but he plays on the team opposite of whom I am supporting, so I refuse to like him.

"You don't have anything else to do?" I tell him, laughing, but he doesn't even care because I am also stuck looking at the screen.

I love my brother; when he was born, I was ten-years-old. I remember being overjoyed when I learned that my mother had gotten pregnant and would give me a baby brother.

I go back to my room, thinking about my big trip. I have never left America before. Well, I've already been to Mexico, but that doesn't count for me. As time has passed, I've become more anxious. Planning this trip is all I've been doing last year. This course means the world to me. If I excel at getting a degree, I will have an international curriculum under my career belt. That would count a lot for my future professional projects.

My university is famous for its highly ranked courses, so I managed to get in touch with other international universities. With that, I got a Marketing and Fashion Communication course at the International Institute of Fashion Design in Barcelona. It did cost my parents a lot to fund that course but I promised that I would pay them back once I managed to get a job.

Once night rolls by, I am almost freaking out. My God, for the first time in twenty-one years, I'm going to be away from my parents. I like where I live. I was born and lived all my life in Panama. I love my city because it has the beach, partying and everything I need is very close.

I wake up in one fell swoop, realising that I still have a couple of hours before I need to be at the airport. I do my dental hygiene and sit at the table for breakfast.

"At what time does your flight even leave?" asks my father, making sure.

"Ten, Daddy," I tell him, taking a piece of bread and sliding some cherry jam onto it.

"Well then, we need to go soon. I need to get back here because your mother and I will have some customers to attend, and until you leave, she will be crying her eyes out." He chuckles, attempting to hide back his own tears.

My parents are estate realtors, and in a city like mine full of tourists, they need to take advantage of every client since it's the beginning of January and it's the high summer season.

Soon, I'm in the car with my parents and my brother, my restless left leg jerking up and down. It takes an hour to get to the airport and by some miracle, the traffic is good.

During the tearful goodbye from my mother, who asks me to be careful with strangers and not accept anything from anyone, I try explaining to her that I'm almost twenty-two, causing her to break down even more because we're going to spend my birthday apart for the first time. My God, Mother!

When I reach the departure area, I can already get in line for the arrival of the plane. I see my classmates, and I get more excited. But I still have to prepare for my flight. From Panama I will have to travel to New York to catch another plane.

And now my little adventure begins.

After almost twelve-hour flight, I arrive in Barcelona at 3 a.m. The flight was alright, although the weather did get a tad choppy while crossing the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not dead sleepy, rather wide awake because the time difference here is six hours more than in America. So for me, it feels as though 10 p.m.

My "extended family" are waiting for me with those huge signboards that displays my identifying name. I love it; I feel like I'm in a movie. Me and two friends from college will be staying at this student's house, who also studied and lived here.

Valentina is my age and is studying journalism. As I wanted to pursue something in that area, I choose to stay at her house.

I, and two peers, Joanna and Katrina, along with Valentina, travel to her city centre apartment. I have to confess; it is beautiful and very trendy here.

The apartment is not luxurious, nor is it enormous, but it is very cosy. Valentina shows me the room we will be sharing together. In the not very large but comfortable bedroom of a slightly worn beige colour, there are two single beds, a desk and, thank God, a large wardrobe. I struggle to understand what she is saying for sure because her Spanish has a rather strange dialect.

But so far I think it is great. I would like to learn some strange languages, and it would be even better because I could get some Spanish journalism experience with it..

As I am going to start my course first thing in the morning, I have a celebratory pizza dinner with my classmates and my new friend. Once I do go to bed, I call my parents to say that everything is fine and that it is beautiful here, and then I pass out.

I wake up with Valentina's alarm clock, where, right away, she is there to give me a good morning smile. I like her. I like people who smile for nothing. It takes me a while to get my bearings; I was so tired after dinner with the girls that I blacked out and slept soundly.

We drink coffee, juice, crackers and scrambled eggs and soon the four of us leave together.

The way to the university is short. I prefer we walk there so I could learn where I am located since I couldn't do that the night before. We stroll for about fifteen minutes and as soon as we arrive, I am dumbfounded. The university's structure is more beautiful than what appeared in the photos. The architecture here is stunning, everything modern. Ah, I would live in this accessible city, but I like my own city. I push the thoughts away right after that.

Valentina shows us the room where Joanna, Katrina, and I will be taking the course. We meet Professor Martin Rupert, who has worked for years on local TV and says that everyone in his class is classified for the job market. I like him, and he looks nice. But his way of passing on a lot of work is not so "nice" anymore.

At lunch, we meet Valentina and go to a cheap restaurant nearby. We discuss our day so far, but our conversation mainly revolves around sports, especially football. Do these people have anything better to talk about? I silently growl, thinking to myself.

"Going to have a party tonight. Are you up for it?" Valentina asks while we eat, with that curly accent. Luckily, I can understand.

"What kind of party?" Katrina asks with interest.

"White Party, in a well-known high-end club, that even famous people attend all the time. I can get tickets for us; I have a friend who works there." She smiles cockily to show off her contacts.

My two peers seem very excited about the invitation. I cringe at the very thought, squeezing the glass of juice in my hand. I do not like going to crowded places where people can feel every inch of you and check you out sleazily in the name of socialising or whatever. Although I did like well spaced-out parties.

"Selena, we'll go together, right?" Joanna asks me.

"Oh, I don't know girls, we arrived yesterday and are already going to a party? Plus, today is Wednesday," I say without interest.

I like parties and dancing. I love dancing, but I didn't come to Barcelona to hang out. I know they will object, as they are doing now.

"Tomorrow is a municipal holiday. There will be no classes," Valentina said.

Well, if there is no class...

"Wow, do we already have a holiday?" I start to laugh. Since it's like that, I think it's going to be super cool.

We get all excited about attending such a rave party tonight.

As we make our way home after lunch, many people are crowding the street and shouting about football. I think they take football more serious here. I ask Valentina and she tells me that Barcelona will be playing Real Madrid on Saturday, so everyone is going crazy because of the biggest derby in Spain.

It is almost time to leave for the party. I had already straightened my hair and done my makeup earlier. As the dress code for the party is white, I choose a white tank top since it is scorching here and a high-waisted, short, gold, embroidered skirt and nude high heels. We drive with Valentina and park in a private parking spot because of that friend of hers. When I get out of the car, I come across a black Lamborghini. I have always liked cars. Even more sporty ones!

It is common to see expensive and sporty cars in my city. A pity that they belong to petty people most of the time. I know this because of my parents' many clients. I can't say they were all cocky, but most were. It looks like they had acquired all of their wealth by doing illegal or immoral things.

Seeing my expression, Valentina makes fun of my face.

"Looks like someone likes expensive cars," she says, laughing.

"These run on petrol right, Selena?" Joanna says, laughing even more.

"No, I just have good taste," I say, ignoring them, but laughing too as it is quite funny.

We enter the white party. Everything is beautiful, the lights, the people, the floor, the glasses...The electronic music fills every corner, with people dancing, drinking, enjoying the music. The ambience of the place is amazing and the DJ creates a perfect mood. I marvel as I observe every corner of the luxurious place, full of soft lights forever keeping the place well-lit but still private and warm.

We sit at a table with cosy armchairs, and soon a waitress comes by. I can't understand anything she says; I just follow what the girls ask. After a short while, the waitress returns with a huge tray filled with tequila shots.

Oh no. I don't know what I am gonna do. I hate hard liquor due to their after effects!

She starts saying something. Shit! I need to start understanding what they're talking about!

We drink our round of alcohol. By the time we start dancing, I'm still grimacing at the liquid burning my throat. The rhythmic and beat-filled music is in perfect taste.

But as always, there is a luxury box on the top floor. It seems to be very private. Private for women because from what I see when I peer up, there is of a woman who looks like a bitch up there. She scares me.

I dance some more and then we stagger back to our table and slump into our chairs. I am a little sweaty, and I hate getting sweaty. At the table, my friends say that there is a famous person at the party. I can barely understand a word of what they are gossiping about!

"It's that player from your country who has now become a star here on the Barcelona team," Valentina says, gesturing for us to say his name.

"Hunter Blanco?" asks Katrina. "Is he here!? Oh my God! He is beautiful, he is to die for, he is the most gorgeous player on the face of the earth, happens to be a billionaire as well plus his bad boy reputation turns me on" she squeals, her eyes shining.

Wow, why so much enthusiasm, I think to myself, rolling my eyes, already feeling a little dizzy.

"I need some water, I'll be right back," I mutter to anyone who bothers to listen. I part to get my water, leaving the three crazy women to rave about the chicken-ass player.

As I am making my way through the crowd, I can hear other girls swooning and sighing, "I would love to be his girlfriend, also he is so rich!" My eyebrows reach the ceiling with surprise and disgust! Just because he's rich? Okay, as if that's impressive. Well, for some opportunists, yes.

I order my water in my worst American Spanish possible. When the girl hands me my glass of water, I turn around, where someone bumps me and spills all the liquid onto my white blouse.

"Holy shit! Are you blind?" I say, annoyed, lambasting the chap in front of me. "Oh shit, look what you did, I'm all soaked with this purple drink!" I grumble, even more irritated, pointing to the mess that was on me. This expensive blouse is brand new...

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention, Senorita." He speaks the softest voice possible.

"Wait...How do you know I'm...?"

When I lift my head, I can't speak or think anymore. Bright blue eyes glare at me with all the amusement possible.