Chapter Six

"My name is August Tiangco. A fellow archer." A guy introduced himself, extending his left hand and trying to fix his posture. I can see how his pupils slowly dilated like he just saw someone famous.

His beauty reminds me of some of my Filipino-Spanish friends in Spain. He is the perfect definition of tall, dark and handsome – definitely a moreno.

"My complete name is August Gezrael Tiangco," he continued. Happiness and excitement are visible on his face. I almost laughed when he said his full name like I was asking for it. "Just call me, August."

"Laurent Leyva," I responded, shaking his hands. I looked at him straight into his eyes with a tiny smile.

He looked familiar, though.

"I am a huge fan of yours." He giggled. "I saw your last match in the field with Xavier from Southville, and you were epic."

He enthusiastically continued, screaming like a child. My eyes lit up as I see his reaction. I flashed my teeth, smiling back at him. The excitement on his face is still obvious.

The more he smiles, the more he gets attractive.

I remembered the last match I had. It was last January with Southville's eagle eyes, Xavier Guzman. He is a god when it comes to archery. I almost lost the game when he scored a perfect forty for the first set – good thing I was able to aim ideal ten scores for the rest of the targets.

I certainly did not enjoy archery at first, to be honest. I learned archery when I was in Valencia; a friend invited me to go to a local range back then and insisted on giving archery a try. I did.

But as part of a middle-class family in Spain, archery is somewhat an expensive sport. The whole archery equipment costs almost the entire monthly income of my mother.

Later, I found a local thrift store in Valencia that sells secondhand recurve bow that looks as good as new. My mother and I saved some pennies and took the opportunity to buy the bow in a much lesser price. I was thrilled when I got my first recurve bow and named it after my mother's name, Thelma.

The bow was beautiful and strong, just like her.

The first time I used my secondhand bow was satisfying; I felt like I was on cloud nine. Archery is a perfect stress reliever; problems seem to float away from my mind with each arrow I release.

I brought my bow, Thelma, with me here in the Philippines, but I rarely used it or not at all because I don't want to lose it, just like my mom.

It's all that I have.

"Thank you," I couldn't think of a proper response, so I scratched my head in embarrassment. "I don't expect that someone would recognize me," I said; finally, my mouth said something relevant.

He just chuckled. His smiles are so dazzling that they almost flipped me off.

"What?" He exclaimed. "I strongly disagree with that. My sister and I are great fans of yours. My whole family knows you," He continued. I can feel the excitement and sincerity in his voice. "The president's nephew and one of the finest archers in the Philippines, Laurent Leyva." He yelled, both hands on his waist. "You must be kidding me." His voice was deep and husky, but his reactions are opposite to what I expect him to be. Without noticing, an enormous smile crossed my face. I've never felt appreciated for what I am doing.

This guy just made my entire day.

"I appreciate that, sir." I responded.

Sometimes I hate myself for being such a less talker; I must admit that. 

I don't know but I have this feeling that people are staring at me in the distance.

Isn't it weird when you feel like people are staring at you for no reason? That's exactly what I am feeling right now.

The reception hall is filled with renowned and eminent individuals. I can hear few people bragging about one's achievements, some are officials having a political conversation, and lastly, there are some people who are too stupid to understand the idea of minding their own business.

I can feel their eyes following me with every move I make. Can these bitches get a life?

"Do you want to get out of here?" August beckoned in an earnest voice, trying to convince me. "Away from these people?" He continued, breaking the awkward silence. 

I don't trust people easily because not everyone has pure intentions, but August's personality radiates safety and wellbeing.

He has a good idea. I should get out of here, but maybe something is stopping me because I feel like I need to let Sebastian know about it.

But, why?

He doesn't give a fuck about the things I do.

I roamed my eyes around the crowd, trying to look for Sebastian before agreeing with August's suggestion; without noticing, Sebastian saw me first from a distance. He looked at me with a blank and angry expression, not knowing what it meant. I was about to smile at him, but Sebastian just gave me a death stare, good enough for me to be kind of scared. He stopped staring at me when Martina whispered something in his left ear.

"Hey," August spoke calmly, tapping my shoulders as if he is trying to get my senses back. "My bad, did I say something wrong?" He asked, lowering his voice and slowly inserting both of his hands in his pocket. His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Ah, no." I quickly answered. "Count me in but don't kidnap me, please."I jested. He laughed. His husky voice made it more attractive. "Perks of being the president's nephew."

"That's actually a good idea, I'll consider that," He joked. "But really, we can let your cousin, Sebastian, know about it. We're colleagues after all." He suggested, pointing his mouth to Sebastian's direction. That's very Filipino.

My eyes widened in surprise when he told me that he knows Sebastian and that might be the reason why he looked familiar like I saw him somewhere. I did not care to ask for more detailed information about their friendship. 

"We'd rather not."I immediately responded. "As you can see, he's a busy bee." I continued, looking at Sebastian.

August glanced at him and looked back at me with a beaming smile. He nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, we'd rather not, perks of being the president's son." He jokingly said. I smiled at him as a response. "Okay, meet me at the parking lot in ten minutes. My car is a black Nissan Terra." August added, jingling his keys. I smiled at him a response, he winked at me and swooped outside the reception hall, pushing his way through the crowd.

One thing I urge to learn is to identify the differences between a friendly and flirty wink.

Winks are lowkey deceiving.