REINKED- That Time The Prettiest Girl In School Asked Me Out For Coffee

October 4th, 2023

Hello there, whoever you are. You can call me Yuta. Basic name, yes, but a good one too. My last name? Err, I wouldn't worry about it. It sounds weird for one. Actually, matter of fact, let’s just cut to the chase, cause I'd say it's cursed. So, yeah, you REALLY don't have to get too interested, got it? Are we good? Alright, good, good. Now we can move onto the fun part. For you see, I'm actually a novelist. Well, okay, something like one. That isn't a diss toward web novelist's (the category I fall into), nor is it really a diss towards myself.

Rather, I'm not sure if I could call what I write...uhm, what’s the right word…normal at all? That describes it pretty well, yeah.

So like, I understand that there are a lot of ways to write a novel, but what I come up with is...well, not exactly the kind of thing most people consider either good or not-edgy. It’s edgy, it’s really edgy.

Want an example? Sure, let’s take from my most recent chapter;

The blood fills the chalice, and the king sips greedily. The drops fall from his lips and land upon the crying lovers. The end has finally arrived. An end of rising intestines.

Like, sure, it's pretty metal, but I'm not gonna stand behind it as something worthy of being named a piece of real writing. But if that’s the case, what do I consider real writing?

Uhhh...I don't really know. A call it as you see it sort of thing is probably the safest answer. Like, none of my novels are real writing in my mind, but something like Arifureta totally is. I wanna reiterate, I'm not being too harsh here. I was never aiming for something like literature of the year recognition. That would be silly. Really, I'm not quite sure why I write.

Actually, I'll be real, I log into my Soysanku account and see the hundreds of novels I've written in the past ten years, and I can hardly recall any of the things in them. Everytime I open one up, I’m met by something that I can’t possibly recognize. Though, from what I've read, they seem pretty similar to what I write now, so I can say I feel no motivation to catch myself up. At the end of the day, I gotta assume this is all just some kind of catharsis. For what, you ask?

Please don't ask.

I sit back in the library chair, staring at the finished chapter before me. It looks...exactly like what I wanted to write. I hit submit and watch as the page refreshes to my updated table of contents. The novel's title, King Of Gore, stares back at me. What’s it about? Well, pretty simple. The world is invaded by a king from hell, who is consumed by his desire to consume the bodies of humans.

Under it, the stats continue to amaze me. Thousands of views. Hundreds of likes.

It's all gotta be because of lots of activity. And besides, I'm nowhere near the heights of the bigger people on this site. Ugh, the more I think like that, the more I get angry with myself. What am I complaining for? If I really wanted to be that popular, I would just write something better.

Oh god, I beg you, give me the strength to make something worthwhile.

I shake my head, realizing I’m being stupid and start to close my laptop when I feel something brush against my shoulder. Huh? That’s weird. I look to my right and see a girl's face leaning over, entranced by what she sees on my laptop. Her long black hair is sitting against my jacket. Her deep, crimson red eyes shine with the light of my screen. She's...objectively the most beautiful girl at school. I know her name and face well.

Sami Reese. She is Sami Reese.

"Uh...uh hmm…d-do y-y-you ne-ne-ne-need-something? I ask, stuttering like a fool, not sure quite what to make of this situation. I mean, if I were to pull out the social ladder of this school, I'm less the last rung and more the speck of dirt the ladder sits upon. So, there's no sense in someone like her, the one person the ladder does its best to hold up and spoil, coming to see a guy like me. My whole body turns cold as she stares at me. W-why is she here?!

"Is this your account?" She asks. Her pretty voice escapes through soft, pink, luscious lips...oh good heavens, why does she have to be so pretty?!

"Y-yeah? Does that i-interest you?" I try to gauge where exactly she wants to take this conversation while stuttering like an idiot. Before she can answer though, the bell rings. "Oh crap! Uhm, sorry, my class is pretty far, I don't have time." I lie through my teeth, packing up my computer quickly. She seems frozen in time. It's freaky, and quite frankly, it looks like talking to her would lead to a situation I have no interest being in. I wave before speed walking out of the library and into the main hall for the lowest grade. I run to the staircase and bolt up the steps, past the students aimlessly hanging around.

I arrive on the top floor (my own) and sigh, leaning against the wall. Maybe that was a bit rude, but, well, if that went any further, I'm sure I would freak her out or something. That’s just how it goes when people like her talk to guys like me. Ugh, no no no! No depressing yourself! I try to pump myself up for class. After a moment, it sort of works, but not great. Whatever, some is better than none. Best not to test my luck any. I make my way to the door, and I enter the classroom, turning no heads, and take my seat in the very back of the class. Sitting down, I turn my head to enviously look over at the guy in the window seat. Who'd he have to kill to get that view, damn it? I groan to myself, and begin pulling out my supplies for this class. “Ugh, did I lose my pencil?” I ask, when the door slams open. I freeze up, turning to see what's going on.

It's promptly then that I feel my heart stop.

Now, it's arguable whether this is a day not to remember, or a day to forever treasure.

I know, such a statement is purely artists talk. Regardless, I’m not quite sure how else to put this. The sight of Sami Reese in my classroom's doorway, staring me down with a hunter's gaze, makes me absolutely terrified. So terrified that only literary terms could properly put it into understandable written symbols, but I’m not a good enough writer to get it out right.

I begin to consider if she's even truly a human. Maybe demon's are real and she's one of them. In my head, that makes far more sense than her, an actual, beautiful girl, wanting anything to do with me.

With little more than a nod to a concerned friend coming to make sure she's alright, she starts marching my way.

Ah, okay.

I'm definitely about to die.

There’s no better explanation for this than that, surely.

Why give her the satisfaction of seeing the terror in my eyes? I close them tight and await a slash to my throat. A befitting end to a gore fiend like me.

I wait...and wait...and wait…

"…" But nothing happens. No matter the fact that I wait for almost thirty seconds, nothing happens to me. With that as the case, I open my eyes. Standing there, her face seems filled with confusion. I want to laugh it off, but I’m still too terrified to make any sudden moves. What is she doing? Why is she just standing there?

As I ponder these words, she finally speaks.

“Wanna get coffee?” She asks in a kind, sweet voice.

The whole classroom goes quiet. A feeling of hatred tints the air and it enters my quivering lungs. Before me, the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on is staring down at me, cocking her head. She casually folds her arms, and her fingers start tapping. Despite that, the intimidating aura she's putting off is being countered by something else. Something like a hidden pleasantness. It puts me off even more.

Sami Reese. The undisputed leader of the social ladder, making it appropriate to say she's the only one with a spot on it, with everyone just desperately holding her up there. This is the girl who's asking me out. Not even touching the fact that a girl is asking me out at all, that’s its own level of unbelievable. How the hell, frankly, is this my proper timeline? Something must have switched while I wasn't looking.

All this is getting really disturbing.

Anyways, I said yes.

Wait, I said yes?

Yes, I in fact said yes. Granted, it was a quick one, just barely recognizable between unsure breaths.

If you’re wondering why, in the entire heavens and earthly realm, I would say yes and incur the wrath of a jealous, spiteful class of testosterone and insecurities, along with subjecting myself to further time around this unpredictable, scary woman…well it’s very simple. If I said no, I’d be bullied for “hurting her feelings”, regardless of if she cared or not, and again, she's a total wild card to me right now. At least this way, I get a date with a girl way out of my league, don't incur her wrath, and get bullied for a dumb enough reason for it to be funny.

Opportunity cost is an important concept everyone should consider.

“Good.” And then, like that, Sami smiles. It's so unexpectedly warm and sweet, it feels like everything I saw before was just a fever dream. She turns around and leaves the classroom, presumably to go to her actual final period.

She risked being late to ask me out.

The reactions of aww and why come to mind, but I’m afraid I have more important things to worry about now. Like the stares of every male in the classroom. Even some of the females. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Lilla, a friend of mine who currently holds no importance beyond this statement, wanted to make a move. I’ll have to apologize to her later. Thank god she doesn’t share this period with me.

Anyways, uhhh, the rest of the class isn’t important.

You know history class? Yeah, just picture that for a few minutes and you’re good.

After that, I get myself grabbed and dragged into the bathroom and have my head slammed in the toilet. Reasonable reaction, I’m just happy the water is clean.

"Cocky bastard, think you can go out with any girl you want just because they ask?! Think again! Know your place!" I feel spit get in my hair before the toilet is flushed and I'm left to lean against the stall wall, holding my hurting face. Eventually, I manage to drag myself off the floor and to the sink, where I quietly examine my bruising face. Well, that's unfortunate, but at least I can laugh about it.

Haha...ha...

Yeah, okay, it's not very funny.

I make my way out of the bathroom and down the steps to the first floor. I receive plenty of unwanted looks. A piece of me begins to crave the invisibility of my everyday school life, but that's all gone now. Best to mourn and move on, right out the front entrance.

“Oh god. What happened, are you okay?” Arriving outside, Sami is sure to point out my bruising face and sparkling skin with a single phrase of worry. In turn, I blush.

"Uhm, fell down the stairs. I'm just a little clumsy, hehe." I lie, seemingly satisfying her. Deciding that was enough a response, she took my hand with a look of excitement.

"Well, if you're okay, then let's go. We have a lot to talk about." She spoke with enthusiasm before beginning to walk with me in tow. The disapproval of my peers seeps out of the air and into my wriggling skin.

To escape the thoughts of my future school life, I focus on where exactly we're walking. I’ve walked through the city plenty of times on my way to and from school, or maybe to the used book store if I ever felt cheeky, but the streets she's currently taking me down feel so new that I almost forget where I am. The roaming rats act as good reminders. She stops us in front of a cute looking café and gently motions for me to follow her inside. I do, and the aura of the place is exquisite. The cool air of the black ac’s, the smell of cooking coffee beans and freshly brewed java. I feel as if my body has been overtaken by the ways of the pretentious author, ready for his fifth shot of espresso and a call for an ambulance.

I walk alongside her to a booth at the back, where a waiter quickly comes over and Sami swiftly orders us two black coffees. I silently fear the bitter taste to come, but it's a small price to pay for the wonderfully smiling company. Once the waiter is gone, it's just me and her, and I am completely tongue tied. What…what do I even say? I guess a why would be a good first question, or maybe that’s rude. Play it safe.

“How’s your day?” I ask with a soft voice.

“I want you to help me make a manga.” She responds bluntly.

“...what?” I suddenly feel my nervousness drain. Is…is this a prank?

“I want you to help me make a manga.”

“I-I heard you the first time. I mean, are…are you serious?”

“Why do you ask?” She crosses her arms and cocks her head.

“It’s just a little bizarre is all. I didn’t expect it. Wait, are you recreating Bakuman? You have great taste in manga, hehe.” I laugh. She doesn't.

“Hmmm…” Sami looks me up and down. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be a good writer. I guess looks are deceiving.” I gulp. Right, if she’s asking me, then she clearly knows that I’m an author. Clearly she was impressed with my writing account and wants me because she's...read my stuff. Wait, she's read my stuff...and she LIKES it?

“That…uhm…so wait, you read web novels?”

“Religiously. Not much else to do during the day besides read and create.” She says, looking down at the table.

“E-exactly. Better to spend your time reading some good stuff then talking to people you won’t be in touch with in a few years.” I bite my tongue. That was really cringy, damn.

“Heh, what a sad way of looking at things…though I don’t disagree.” Her smile wavers a little. I felt my cheeks turning red with both appreciation and embarrassment.

“Uhm…you said you want me to help you make a manga.”

“That’s right.”

“Uhm, why me? I’m sure you would be a fine enough author, and if not, you could definitely find way better ones elsewhere.” I scratch my ear, feeling my heart ache with fear of all kinds.

“No. I need you.” She states.

“Again, why?” I ask. In return, she sighs, looking down at the table.

“Because, Yuta, your stories are absolutely perfect.”

The sound of my own name sends a chill down my spine.

“Your spite and pain and sadness…all your emotions come together to create something that I feel echoes through my bones and soul. I want to draw them, spark them with life, and show everyone how messy humans really are.”

“W-wha…”

“I want a demented author.” She leans forward, her face filling with determination. “I NEED you, Yuta.”

Staring deep into Sami’s eyes, I feel as though I am glimpsing the façade behind the universe’s curtain.

This girl…she...

She's a gore fiend, just like me.

Slowly, I gulp.