Starstruck

"Hey mom, what floor is the photo shoot again?" I asked cheerfully.

"Hon, it's on the 22nd floor. Just inform the guard on the lobby that you're here for Andrea and he'll let you in. I already instructed him about it, so there won't be a problem. Thanks so much sweetie, I don't know what I'll do without you," she said on the other line.

"No problem mom, school is still a week away, so I'm not busy or anything. Ok, I'm nearly there, see you in a bit, bye." I ended the call and continued driving. Once I found a parking spot, I maneuvered the car expertly to the area and stopped. I grabbed the keys and the bag that my mom requested and went on my way to the building.

I whistled softly when I saw the building that I'd be entering. Wow, my mom's client must be rich or famous. This skyscraper was one of the largest here in the city. It was a good thing that I was only headed to the 22nd floor. I was not particularly thrilled with heights.

The guard that mom was referring to greeted me on the lobby. Once I told him my mom's name, he showed me to the elevators, and I thanked him before pushing the button for my stop. No one entered the elevator car on my way up, giving me enough time to ponder on things. My mom was usually an organized person. I wondered why she forgot the bag that she was going to use for work.

The elevator opened with a ding and I walked casually to the floor. I headed to the room that mom indicated and entered after knocking. Inside, everyone was busy preparing for the photo shoot. Photographers were setting up their equipments, people who were in charge of the wardrobe were carefully selecting an outfit, and different individuals were doing their own set of tasks. In the corner sat my mom Andrea, the make-up artist.

She's been a businesswoman all her life but switched to this line of work 5 years ago to pursue her real calling. At first, she started with small clients. As years passed, her clientele grew, and today, she's known as one of the top make-up artists in the area. With her expertise, it was no surprise that she bagged a big gig like this. I wonder who her client was this time.

"Hey mom," I greeted while handing the bag to her.

"Thanks sweetheart! You're such a lifesaver. I was so caught up in work that I forgot to bring my other makeup kit. It's lucky that you came in time. I have a big client that I don't want to disappoint." She gave me a huge smile, the edge of her eyes crinkling.

I took a good look at my mom, a 40 year old woman. To say that she was beautiful was an understatement because she was drop dead gorgeous. She could have easily been an actress with her looks, but she chose to be a makeup artist instead, which I was totally cool with. She had reddish shoulder-length hair, brown eyes that seemed to look into your soul, and a quirky smile that never failed to bring one to my own lips.

People would often say that I was an exact copy of her, only younger, but I never believed them. While her hair was soft and silky, mine was long and untamable. Maybe I got that from my father who passed away when I was young. Our eyes were different too. Hers were soulful while mine was just plain old brown. I think the only thing we had in common with regards to our appearance was our height of 5'8" and a slender body. At least I got that from her.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet Dulce? If you haven't there's food in the other room for the staff. You're welcome to eat there," she said.

"I already ate mom. I'll just go and catch some sleep; it looks like you're going to be busy for the day. Just tell me all about it when you get home," I replied with a smile.

She nodded. "Sure, see you later."

After giving her a wave, I exited the door and made my way outside the building. Once I reached the sidewalk, I glanced around and noticed a café. I absolutely loved coffee, and since I was in a hurry to get here, I wasn't able to drink my daily cup. It wouldn't hurt if I had one now.

I almost skipped to the coffee shop. The familiar aroma of beans and cream wafted in my nose as soon as I opened the door. The scent alone perked me up. Aside from me, only two people were inside- a twenty-something guy wearing business attire and a girl about my age donning tight jeans and an Armani t-shirt that accentuated her toned and slender body.

I glanced at the girl. Though her face was partly covered by Ray-bans, and her hair was hidden by the cap she was wearing with her ponytail, she looked very familiar. It was like I'd seen her before. I quickly dismissed the idea since I'd never been in this part of the city.

I waited patiently in line behind the girl, marveling at how great she smelled. What perfume was she wearing? Maybe I should ask her. Before I got the courage to bring my hands up and tap the girl's shoulder, the guy in front of the line turned around and spilled coffee all over her white shirt.

"Ouch! Ouch!" the girl flailed her hands helplessly at her shirt. The man just stared at her and instead of apologizing; he quickly got out of the café, leaving the girl behind. What a total jerk!

As for me, I hurriedly grabbed tissue from the counter and wiped the girl's chest with it without even thinking. She recoiled from me, but I still tried to dab the tissue, knowing that she was hurt and soaking wet with coffee.

"Oh my gosh miss, are you hurt?" I said in panic.

"Please don't touch me, who are you?" she asked, pushing my hands away.

I stopped what I was doing and stared at her. "Well are you hurt or not?" I inquired. Here I was so worried about her, and she didn't appear to be in pain like I originally thought.

"Not really," she replied. The girl glanced down on her shirt and groaned. I followed her gaze and noticed her bra through the shirt, which was already semi-transparent because of the spilled coffee. I quickly looked away and blushed.

"Come with me, I have an extra shirt inside my car," I told her. Before she could even object, I was already pulling her out of the café and straight to the parking lot. She covered her chest area with her hands while we walked.

Once we reached the car, I instructed her to enter the back, while I rummaged inside my bag in front. I found the grey shirt that I always kept for emergency purposes and handed it to her behind me.

"Thanks," she murmured. She removed her sunglasses and the cap before pulling her hair tie, letting her raven-black hair loose. I noticed her coffee colored eyes and got lost in them for a moment.

She caught me looking and met my gaze which made my heart beat crazy, like a love struck teenager who just hit her puberty. Well that made sense since I was only 17, but damn my heart hasn't pounded this hard for a long time. She surprised me even more by removing the wet shirt she was wearing while I was still openly staring at her.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I stammered.

"I'm changing, is there something wrong with that?" Her tone was businesslike, as if she was used to other people seeing her change.

"Uhm, err, nothing at all. Just hurry so no one will see you," I replied with a slight tremble in my voice while turning my face in front. This girl was shameless.

After a few seconds, she tapped my shoulders, prompting me to turn in her direction. "I'm done," she said. "Look uhh what's your name again?"

"It's Dulce," I told her.

"Alright Dulce... I need to go now. Thanks so much for lending the shirt. I'll give it back to you I promise. Can you give me your number so I can contact you once I had it washed? Or if you like, I can just pay you right now for it so we don't have to go through the trouble. I'm very busy you see," she said while flipping her hair. If there was a chance that I'd see this pretty girl with the coffee colored eyes again, I'd take it.

"No, you don't have to pay me. I'll give you my number," I said quickly. She took her phone from her jeans pocket and punched in the number I recited.

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask your name," I said to her.

She gave a smile, one that highlighted her straight nose, full lips, and beautiful eyes. "I'm Glace, nice to meet you stranger," she said with a low voice while placing her hands in front of her to shake mine.

I reached out and touched her soft palm. I bet my hands were dripping with sweat from nervousness, but she didn't seem to mind. Letting go was far from my thoughts, but I had to after a few seconds, or she might think I was crazy.

"You know, next time, you should think twice before pulling a girl inside your car. One might think that you don't have a good intention," she teased.

"But, but I'm not," I stuttered.

"I know," she winked, making my stomach do a small flip.

"So, I guess I'll see you around Glace," I said shyly.

"Yeah you too Dulce, by the way, what school do you go to?" I told her the name of the high school I'd be attending next week.

"What about you?" I asked in return.

"I was homeschooled," she replied. "But I'm in 12th grade like you." She glanced at her watch. "I'd love to stay and chat Dulce, but I still have something to do. I'll call or text you as soon as I get the chance."

We opened the door at the same time and got out of the car. My brain was screaming for me to ask her out, but anxiousness got in the way. In the end, I just held out my hand once more to shake hers. This time, she was the one who grasped my palm.

"I guess this is it huh?" I said while looking straight into her eyes.

"Maybe..." she replied coyly, holding my gaze. For a split-second, I felt something like electricity flowing between us, but it vanished as soon as it arrived. It must be my imagination. I was such a dork.

I cleared my throat to fill the silence that passed. "So just text me Glace. You know, for the shirt," I said almost out of breath.

"Totally for the shirt," Glace said before removing her hand from mine. She gave me another radiant smile, one that nearly brought me to my knees.

"See you around stranger."

She walked and disappeared in the distance, while I got back inside the car and let out a long breath. What was wrong with me? I should have asked for her number too. If she doesn't call me, I might never see her again. I face-palmed myself. You don't just let a beautiful girl like that go Dulce.

I groaned inwardly. Well she didn't look like a lesbian, so even if I did ask her number, nothing would happen. I'd just break my heart like the last time. My thoughts strayed to Denise, the girl I used to go gaga with at school. She kept on giving me mixed signals and when I finally asked her out, she bluntly denied me. Not only was it rude, it was downright embarrassing.

It nearly blew my cover. People in school all knew that I was straight. I didn't want to tell anyone about my sexuality or I'd be bullied and victimized like the others. Besides, it was enough that my two best friends in the world knew, plus my mom. Other than that, my gayness was no one's business but my own.

I inserted the key to its rightful place and started the ignition. My three year old car came to life and I drove straight to my best friends place. Forget sleep, I'd do that this evening. For now, I needed to tell them that I met someone beautiful.

I reached my destination and rang the doorbell. My best friend's brother greeted me after opening the door. "Someone's early," he teased. He pointed to the stairs. "Go. . . Tim is also there." I gave him a quick smile before darting to Patty's room.

As soon as I opened the door to the bedroom, someone screamed and hugged me like there's no tomorrow. "Whoa!" I exclaimed.

"We missed you girl, where have you been hiding that cute butt of yours?" asked Tim, my best friend. Like me, he was a closet gay and didn't want anyone to know about his sexuality. We prefer to live our life peacefully, so no we're not telling anyone other than our family, at least until we graduate.

"Hey Tim, hey Patty," I greeted. I plopped down on the bed. "Sorry, I've been busy running errands for my mom and reading books, so I haven't had much time to go out."

"You and your books Dulce. Aside from that, I bet you've been cooking nonstop," said Patty.

"You know me well," I replied sheepishly. I haven't mentioned it before, but I really liked cooking. It puts me at ease when I'm in the kitchen. I feel like I'm in my element whenever I'm in front of the stove or baking something sweet. Maybe that's why my parents named me Dulce.

Tim adjusted his eye glasses. "Guys, school is a week from now. Is anybody as excited as I am?

"Yes!" Patty said with gusto, while I just groaned loudly beside them.

They both turned to me. "I don't get why you hate our school Dulce. Sure nobody knows that you're lez, but you're popular. Guys and girls love you. They always swarm around you like flies. You should be thankful for that," Tim said.

"Yeah, but I can't be myself there Tim. I can't even ask a girl out. I'm a teenager; I should be dating someone by now or at least making out passionately at the back of my car."

"Technically, you did ask that bitch Denise out. I don't get why she turned you down. She's crazy for you. Maybe she wants you to pursue her."

I rolled my eyes at Tim. "I'm not good enough for her. That's why she didn't want me. Speaking of women, I met someone today," I segued.

"Who's the lucky woman who caught our gorgeous Dulce's eyes?" asked Patty.

I told them all about Glace and how we met this morning. The two oohed and aahed, especially when they heard about how beautiful she was. "So did you ask her out," they asked together.

The smile vanished from my face. "I didn't," I said shamefully.

"Ahh, miss shyness struck again," Tim said and patted my back. "Don't worry dude, just wait for her to call you, and problem solved."

"Yeah, but she's probably not lesbian, so I shouldn't get my hopes up." My shoulder slumped in dejection.

"You can always make her switch. Look at you, you're beautiful! Your gorgeous body and that to-die for smile can even rival Frio." Patty said.

That name again. I was so tired of my friends mentioning that Frio girl. Forgive me for my ignorance, but I didn't like to watch too much TV. I'd rather sleep, read my book, or cook all day long for my friends and my mom, than to follow a Hollywood celebrity like my friends do. Why were they so caught up with this Frio person? I bet she was a snob like most celebrities were and wouldn't even give us a single glance.

"Oh Frio," Tim sighed. "If I weren't a gay and totally boy-crazy, I'd marry you in an instant."

"What's so great about this Frio chick?" I found myself asking.

Tim rolled his eyes at me. "I swear Dulce; you're so out of it. Don't you know that Frio is one of the top stars in our generation? She's been modeling and acting since the age of 7 and she's very popular. She's our age too and there are hearsays that she might be lesbian!" he gushed.

I raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

He giggled and continued. "She's never had a boyfriend before and she's the ice princess. No one as in NO ONE can penetrate that wall that she put around her. But you know she's beautiful and great at acting, so the whole iciness adds to the charm."

I shrugged. "She's probably a total snob. Anyway, let's talk about something else."

The three of us switched the topic and tried catching up about the things we did this summer. In the end, I just went home and slept like I promised my mom. Before I closed my eyes, Glace's face flashed in my mind.