Verse 8

I turned around to look at the unsolicited interlocker. I don’t know who I expected it to be but it was her.

Elena.

Honestly, I didn’t even expect her to remember me. Scratch that—what really surprised me was that she wanted to talk to me at all.

I faced her, she had some sweet in her mouth. A lollipop, I think. It was red—cherry, maybe strawberry. The kind of candy I hadn’t touched since I was dumped on my birthday. I was twelve years old then but it still hurt.

“Hey, where are you going?” she asked, taking the lollipop out.

“Oh, I’m going out to find some food.”

“Really? I was going to grab something too. Mind if I join?” she tilted her head playfully.

Her hair fell to her left side. It was a lot longer than I had initially thought. And at this angle, I noticed streaks—blue, green, and a hint of red—subtle highlights woven into her naturally black hair.

“Well, shall we?” she asked, throwing the lollipop in a nearby trash can.

I hadn’t even noticed her move in front of me. I’d been staring too long at her hair.

Damn it. I really need to stop talking to myself in public.

And just like that, here we are.

The two of us, walking outside the university hostels.

There was an awkward silence between us. I found myself wishing there was a third person to break off the awkwardness, to relieve this pressure off me. I could tell she expected me to start up a conversation, like most guys would when walking with a beautiful girl.

Haha.

Well, she'd better let go of that expectation fast. The only conversation I have is with myself.

It was barely 5:00 PM.

As we walked, we passed dozens of students. I glanced at a few of them but mostly kept my eyes rooted to the ground—or off to the side. Most of them greeted Elena and by extension, me. They exchanged hugs and laughs and I was given the occasional nod or handshake just by being next to her.

It was kinda annoying, really. All I wanted was food, and now I had to stand idly while she greeted half the street like a pop star on tour.

After about ten minutes, we turned a corner and I smiled.

My stomach ululated with joy. Yes ululated. Don’t judge me.

Rows of food stalls lined the roadside, each glowing with colorful LED lights, like a neon heaven of calories.

We stopped at the first stall. It was all juices—“natural,” or so they claimed. I didn’t care. I was starving.

“Welcome, welcome!” the vendor said, her voice warm and animated. “All natural fruit juices here... fresh from the source!”

The drinks were displayed in transparent containers, each glowing with vibrant colors. Stickers on the outside showed what they were made from—Apple, Ginger, Mango, Passion, Mint. Basically, everything you could think of.

“Thank you,” I said. “How much is the apple juice?”

The vendor, a woman maybe in her early thirties, wore a puffy down jacket zipped up to her chin.

“The price depends on the cup,” she said, turning to grab a stack of plastic cups. “This small one is 3 Kraps. The medium is 5. Large is 7.”

She smiled. “Which one do you want, handsome? And if you can’t decide, I can mix flavors for you. Any combo you like.”

Hmm. The choice was easy—Apple was my favorite. But I also liked Passion and Pineapple. Could those even go together? This wasn’t the time for experimentation—I needed something flavorful to wash down the food. Although I could play it safe and go with the Apple and Mint combo. Mint isn’t that strong and shouldn’t overpower the Apple flavour.

“You’re still undecided, huh?” the vendor said, grinning. “What if you let your girlfriend pick?”

There was that word. Girlfriend? Seriously?

I must be dreaming. Or in some kind of cosmic joke.

Why do people think that I can pull someone like Elena? I barely have enough self-confidence to say “hi” to a cat.

Maybe if this were a rom-com, where the awkward, hoodie-wearing protagonist catches the eye of the effortlessly beautiful girl who just got out of a complicated relationship.

“Yeah, I’ll pick for him,” Elena said, flashing a grin. “Hmm… what if we go with Apple, Mint, and Ginger?”

Uh oh.

Another mind reader.