Say Something Good To Me

Chapter One

Sandy packed her bags and sighed as she boarded the private helicopter to leave the resort. She had to admit it to herself that she had seen a lot in her stay at Bella Amor resort. How her cousin, Marky and their childhood friend, Nadja, ended up happily together with their daughter, and their plans of getting married soon, and of course, her other cousin, Ismael, Marky's brother, who got married to a beautiful woman, Veronica. A smile formed on her lips and something came up to her mind-- stop playing around with boys and focus on something else. She saw how desperate Ismael had been for Veronica to have her and how Marky sacrificed a lot for Nadja. Now, she figured out that not all of the men were players when it comes to love. They were not all the same with Rafael Diego.

She inhaled deeply at the thought of the tan-skinned guy with straight jet black hair that kissed his shoulders since he had it a bit long. Maybe, he was a fan of Matt Tuck, she couldn't tell, but in the way his hair fell down on his shoulders, he was about to look like his carbon copy.

Sandy rested her back on the backrest inside the helicopter and as the trip continues, her mind floated on these thoughts of Rafael. She used to call him Rafael or Rafa, but now, all she wanted to call him was Diego. Formal and simple. No traces of  being casual, friendliness or intimacy, even if they had all of that sometime, way too long ago for her. It was when she used to be so young. School-smart but easily fooled by a Rafael Diego. Where all her intelligence had gone that time, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she was so in love with him even if people think he was worse than a psycho path.

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Rafael shook his head as he walked towards the exit of the airport. He didn't really like being in the headlines now, especially when he was feeling this jet lag punching his every muscles. The paparazzi never seemed to mind what he really felt or thought. They kept on snapping pictures of him, recording videos of him and pushing through to let their microphones or recorders get close enough to capture his voice if he speaks. He wanted to scowl already, tell them to back off, tell them to get back to him when he was already in the mood for these interviews. For Pete's sake, he didn't want to show up in public, especially right here in the Philippines. His homecoming was supposed to be a surprise, especially to that certain person who was the reason behind his come-back.

He knew that he should not keep her a reason for everything he does, but she has always been. Even if she seemed to throw everything away already. Maybe, Rafael was exaggerating if he would think that she had completely forgotten her, so throw away was the best word to define what she did to him. To tell the truth, he also could not understand why she suddenly changed. He didn't like that change at all, because that drove him to a decision that he should stay away from her for good. Well, his mind changed as years rolled on by and his stay in US with different beautiful girls didn't seem to work in wiping her out of his memory.

It was strange, it's true. He never thought so much of a certain person, especially a girl, like this. He could be going crazy alright. Rafael already knew it, that was why he began acting crazy, and self-admittedly, ruined a lot in his relationship with Sandra Federal years ago.

A chauffeur was waiting for him. As he came, surrounded by guards and paparazzi, he opened the limousine's door for Rafael. He quickly slid inside the car and sighed in relief when the door was closed. The windows were dark-tinted and if people outside could not see him; Rafael could see them from inside. He shook his head as he watched these people crowding around and continued taking videos and pictures of him. He was thinking that these people had something to do more important that dissect every part of his life for their own money. Rafael was so tired of this and he could not tolerate it anymore. He left the country this way and now, he has returned and still, these people follow him. Worse, they seemed to increase in number than the usual eight or ten paparazzi with their camera men out of the count.

It sure was hard if your father was the president of the country, and if you were expected to follow his footsteps.