When Boyd caught sight of Yasmine the next day in the same spot as before, he breathed a sigh of relief. He thought for sure she would pull a Houdini on him—vanish to avoid the awkwardness. Thankfully, she hadn't.
But as he exhaled, his heart wasn't exactly doing cartwheels of joy. With her eccentric way of thinking, she probably had bigger fish to fry than dodging him. What that was, though, remained a mystery.
Yasmine was a lone wolf, never leaving a sliver of opportunity for anyone to get close. Boyd was much the same. Even when girls from his class tried chatting him up, he'd leave them hanging without a second thought.
Over time, they had become two distinct fixtures in the classroom landscape, much like in their childhood. Except now, they no longer spent hours trying to read each other's minds.
Life marched on in an orderly fashion, with the occasional novelty, but nothing that stirred the waters too much. Their interactions were like parallel lines—never meeting.
Derek thought Yasmine would show some different colors around Boyd, but the outcome was a letdown. That woman was as immovable as a mountain.d2
Two people who had known each other since they were tots, not exchanging a single greeting in months—unbelievable.
The place where Boyd and Yasmine actually had a proper conversation wasn't in the school where they could easily bump into each other but in the library, a mere four or five stops away from school.
The library was a legend in P City, unrivaled in its reputation.
Boyd only agreed to come because, well, it was the library. Otherwise, he would've stayed put—the school library was a fine spot in its own right.
Disinterested in the ground floor's leisurely sweets, he went straight upstairs to find a book. After picking something at random from the finance section, he was about to settle down when he spotted a glass-enclosed corner near the leisure area windows. It was brimming with potted plants, basking in sunlight, with a simple set of table and chairs in the center.
No one was at the table, and it looked like a cozy spot. He pushed open the glass door and stepped inside.
As soon as he entered, he saw a cream-colored plush carpet spread out on the floor by the window, with a couple of beanbag chairs. There was someone comfortably settled in one of them, their hair falling languidly over the blue fabric. They were turned away from him, supporting their head with their hand on a propped up elbow. Just as he noticed, they were nonchalantly flipping a page. Sensing an intruder, the person on the beanbag instinctively looked over, hair shifting aside to reveal a face that had become all too familiar to him recently.
Her hair was down, adding a softness that wasn't there when it was usually pinned up high.
Yasmine paused when she saw Boyd, her indifferent eyes halting briefly before she looked around nonchalantly. "You seem to be lost," she said, turning her head back. "Don't forget to close the door on your way out."
But the door didn't open or close after that.
Yasmine sighed, placed a bookmark in her book, and closed it, flipping over on the beanbag to look at Boyd, who had made his way to the center of the glass room. "What do you want?"
Boyd eyed her languid form. "Are you planning to ignore me indefinitely?"
Yasmine raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her milkshake beside her.
"It's not like I have much to say to you."
"You don't have anything to say to me?"
She gave him a once-over and smiled. She stood up from the beanbag and sweeped her hair back from her forehead, only to let it fall back, partially covering it again. Her eyes had a mocking glint.
Boyd pressed his lips together, knowing this was the reaction he'd get from Yasmine.
"Yeah, nothing, na-da."
He watched her quietly. "How have you been these years?"
Yasmine let out a sigh, moving to a pot of vibrant roses, snipping away excess branches with a pair of scissors. "Good. Living without a care is less tiring."
Boyd's tone lightened. "I thought you'd continue pretending not to know me."
Yasmine nodded. "I did consider it, but it seemed like it would be a hassle down the line."
She set down the scissors and misted the petals with a spray bottle. "Talking to strangers, I manage a few words. If I treated you as a stranger, I wouldn't be able to avoid you. So, now that I have the chance, I need to make it clear to you that our relationship might be even worse than that of strangers."
Boyd's eyes twinkled, "Is it so bad that I can't even speak a few words to with you?"
Yasmine turned around, looked at him, and nodded calmly. "Even though I now find it a bit childish and laughable to still be bothered by something that happened at the age of ten after nine years. But, you know, it has been held on for so many years, and suddenly letting go now makes me feel that all these years of persistence are somewhat meaningless."
Not strangers. Worse than strangers. It was exasperating, really.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Boyd couldn't read Yasmine. Once she set her mind on something, there was no turning back, no room for compromise. He was at a loss.
"I don't want to be a stranger to you, nor do I want a relationship worse than that."
Yasmine looked at him, her brows knitting together. "So, what now?"
Boyd spoke earnestly, "I'm sorry for the past. I apologize. But you could at least leave me some room to..."
He approached her, their heights seemingly on the same scale as when they were kids. He lowered his gaze to hers. "Everyone makes mistakes, so they all deserve to be forgiven—at least once. That's only fair."
Yasmine was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "Don't you think those words are shameless?"
His expression remained even. "I have no other choice."
"What if I disagree?"
"Isn't the reason you're being honest with me today because you're afraid of an endless tangle between us?"
After a long silence, Yasmine muttered, "I never thought that in nine years, you'd turn into someone so shameless."
Boyd cracked a smile. "You haven't changed."
Yasmine snorted. "Who knows?"
"Derek?" There was a pause before Boyd suddenly spoke up.
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