~inspired in the song Comeback by Ella Eyre~

Comeback

There's a risk with falling in love or even developing feelings for someone. Well, a risk comes with every decision we make but it is easy to forget about this risk when you're so high in the bliss of being enamoured. The honeymoon stage is the most dangerous of them all because you ignore all the signs in the spur of the happiness that overtakes you. You think it'll be perfect and everlasting. You hope for the best and refuse to think of the worst. Or of the reality.

There are two outcomes with every relationship. You either marry that person -or end up living and sharing your life with them- or you break up. Basically speaking, there's a fifty percent chance that your relationship will fail and to be honest, I think the chances of failure are higher but I'm no expert. The odds are split there. Yet we jump into a new relationship, hoping this time it'll work. Hoping it won't end. 

If you examine the many reasons why a relationship might fail and compare it with the chances of make it work, you'll probably agree with me that it's not fifty percent but probably ninety percent that you'll end up breaking up. 

Love can wear off.

Love can't overcome everything.

Love can be insufficient.

Love can be whimsical.

Love can be an illusion.

Love can be a lie.

Human beings are dishonest and selfish. It's the survival of the fittest, after all. We all look after ourselves in the end. Magnanimous and selfless people don't really exist. And we always want the best, don't we? Why would one be the best and not another person?

You think he loves you. You think he's the one. You think he will always cherish you. But you don't think he'll meet someone new, find her more attractive, wittier, funnier and sexier and cheat on you. You don't think he'll do that over and over again and fool you every time he comes home, telling you he loves you when it is not true. You don't think of those things because people tell you be hopeful, be positive. Bad thoughts bring bad energy henceforth bad luck. I don't think so. I believe thinking of the worst can prepare you and help you dodge the blow. 

Sometimes.

I've been lied to, cheated on and left behind multiple times. I don't even know why I keep trying when I don't even want to get married one day so the only chance I have left is to break up. Maybe I do it for the pleasure of the moment and maybe that's why when it happens again I shrug because, well, it's the usual. I don't think the fault is in me, I just think that's how human nature works. Monogamous species are rare.

Maybe I do it for the amusement of seeing them trying to explain themselves or trying to get you back because they don't want to lose. They want someone waiting for them and someone else to thrill them with the wrongness of what they are doing. They cheat, they make the mistake and then they crawl back begging you to take them back. And that's what I enjoy the most, to tell them no. That makes me stronger.

Or maybe I just have a bad taste in men.

So I leave the latest mistake behind after delighting myself with the pleasure of throwing my coffee to his face in front of everyone and making sure all female in the café knows he is a cheating wanker. I don't even feel sad anymore because he loses the most, not I. I want to see how long will it take him to realise he can't make it on his own.

Something distracts me on my way back home, a street performer. There's a circle around her as she sings with a guitar, getting people to clap and even sign along. I approach, curious and attracted by her delightful voice. By the time I make it to the front she's finishing the song and everyone claps. People approach and throw some pounds inside the guitar case. I do the same and she smiles at us all.

She's beautiful. Petite and slightly overweight, but that suits her somehow because it makes her cheeks rosier and chubbier, giving her such an adorable appearance. Her cheeks and nose are covered in freckles and her hair is the most glorious and curly ginger I've seen. She has dark eyes, almost black that look incredible in contrast with her pale skin. She has a septum ring and her ears are also heavily pierced with a stretcher in her left earlobe. She is dressed in black ripped skinny jeans with army boots. A white tee and a flannel green shirt on top, unbuttoned. A long necklace hangs hiding behind the guitar. And she has the most beautiful smile I've seen, sweet but also a bit cocky and daring. 

I smile as my eyes scan her from head to toe, appreciating her. She notices my stare and meets my eyes for a few seconds before her own smile becomes flirty and I bite my lower lip.

"How many of us have been cheated on?" she asks, playing with the pick in her fingers. Many people raise their hands and I do the same. "Then sing with me this one. Come with me if you want," she adds and next she starts playing, her raspy voice sings, "Caught up, sneaking around. He said it's nothing with the lipstick on his mouth. And you might think he doesn't care that much at all but they always comeback yeah they always comeback..."

I laugh, recognising the song and starting to clap with everyone else, keeping the beat. I start mumbling the words, singing along because well, who couldn't sing along to such a song? 

She locks eyes with me, smiling at me and I do the same, singing a bit louder this time. I feel the invitation in her body, calling me to join her and sing with her. I'm also a musician, I have my own indie band and like her I've performed in the streets as well.

I give in, taking a step closer and then another until I'm in front of her, singing with her. 

"We've all been played, we all get hurt. Just take that pain and let that motherfucker burn. And you know that in time you'll find out that they always comeback. They always comeback!" we sing at the top of our lungs, playing with the notes and realising our voices match in a glorious harmony.

People cheer and clap already and we keep singing, practically to each other, understanding what the song means, what it feels to be in those shoes.

By the time the song finishes more people are around us and many throw pounds into the case. I clap to her and she smiles brightly at me before taking my hand and make me face the crowd to give a little bow, almost comical.

"Thank you, thank you," she mumbles to everyone, approaching to her case and giving the vibe that the show is over. People understand that and start to leave but I linger there as she collects her earnings. She puts her guitar inside the case and then turns to face me. "Well, since you helped me earn a bit of this, won't you let me invite you a coffee?" she asks and I can't help my smile at her question.

"I'd like that. I had to throw mine before coming here," I say nonchalantly and she laughs out loud.

"Ice or hot?" she questions next.

Shrugging, I reply, "Hot." That makes her laugh even harder.

"I like your type. I'm Riley," she introduces herself, holding up her hand for me to shake.

"Raven," I reply, shaking her hand and appreciating the contrast between her milky skin and my dark one.

You know what they say: when one door closes, another opens.