The nearest cafe to the library was a tiny and crowded one. Flocks of people would stick around, outside and inside. There were only a few spots inside the place for customers to drink their coffee. Even though it was such a popular cafe, the owner refused to make any modifications for some reason.

It wasn't an overrated shop.

As a matter of fact, it was so good that I was willing to stand here for 15 minutes just to get my small order.

I wouldn't say I liked this place with a passion. Yes, it was good. But the amount of people roaming the area made the food taste like rubbish.

Yet, here I was waiting in line for two medium iced coffees.

For who, you may ask?

Well, one was for me and the other was for my student. They sure were a handful.

No, they didn't cause me trouble.

Quite the opposite, actually.

They didn't bother me at all... but that was the issue.

...

I sat at one of the library tables in the far corner.

I didn't know who my student was. The mystery was agonizing and my mind kept thinking about the endless possibilities of whoever this person could be.

I reread the text messages exchanged with this person over and over as if I had somewhat missed a detail in one of the words they sent.

They were already 15 minutes late, they didn't send any notice about it, nor did they even ask about the session we were to have.

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Should I leave? I could just tell Ms. Ferguson that the person was unserious and didn't really care to come. Then, another student would be referred to me. Or maybe this was a sign that I should just back out and focus more on my studies.

In disappointment, I began to pack my things in my bag and got up to leave. Suddenly, at the last moment, my phone began to ring. I stared at the contact and immediately answered when I realized that it was the exact person I was waiting for.

"Hello?" I say in relief.

"Where are you?" they simply ask.

Taken aback by a voice that I wasn't expecting, I answer startled. "Umm... I'm at the table in the corner, near the computers."

"Okay." They reply and hang up without a word.

I hope It's not just me, but this person had no manners at all.

Waiting, I played a car game on my phone as my leg bounced up and down. Finally, a figure sits in front of me and drops a small tote bag to the ground.

I raise my head to take them in.

"What's your name?" I ask curiously.

"Lisa." She tells me, staring blankly at me.

She had dark reddish brown straight hair that cascaded down her shoulders and to her chest. Black doe eyes that screamed innocence and fair skin indicating her youth.

How come such a beautiful person had such terrible manners?

"It's nice to meet you, Lisa. My name is Ariana." I smile at her.

"You too," she states.

Surprised by her lack of expression, I clear my throat. "So, what do you want to start with?"

She takes a deep breath in and pulls out a math book from her bag.

I waited for her to speak, but all she did was stare me down. Her gaze was confusing. I could not tell what she was thinking. It was terribly awkward.

I want to go home.

I shoot her a smile, trying to bring her to say something. "What are you learning right now?" I ask.

"The quadratic formula."

Couldn't she add to the conversation? I was doing all the talking here.

"Do you want me to help you understand it?"

She shakes her head and opens up her book to a certain page. I watched her awkwardly as she completed the exercises inside.

The rest of the session was followed by silence. Not a single question was asked and not a word was spoken. In the end, I decided to take advantage of the situation and started doing my own homework.

Even when she left, all she said was 'Bye'.

...

I grabbed the two cups the moment my order number was called and ran out of the place. It took me about five minutes to reach the entrance of the huge library. Marching down the hallway, I make my way to the same spot where we met the first time.

As soon as the table comes into view, I notice her already sitting and studying. Sitting down in the seat opposing her, I set one of the cups in front of her. She raises her head and gives me a look.

"I bought you an iced coffee." I smile.

After I told my friends about what happened with Lisa, they advised me to bring her something that would make her more comfortable in my presence. I prayed that their advice works out.

"Thanks," she replies dryly, staring at the cup suspiciously.

I don't know what was wrong with this girl.

It was already so much for me to start conversations with people, but she was making me go above and beyond.

The rest of the hour and a half was spent just like the last three ones, with me doing my work while she did hers. Although, there was one time when she asked me to correct one of her mistakes. At least that made me feel like we were somewhat moving forward.

"Maybe she can't help it," Layla said with a soft voice, threading the sewing machine.

I raise my eyebrow, confused. "How so?"

She glances up at me for a split second then gets back to her job. "Well... You never know." She whispers. "She might have a problem or something like that."

I gasp as the realization hits me. I was way too quick to judge. I shouldn't have misjudged her like that. Maybe she wasn't trying to be rude.

"You're right," I admit. "Anyway," I change the topic of the conversation. "What are you sewing?"

She smiles and points to the banner that Bella had just finished. I follow the direction of her finger to the school mascot neatly painted onto the giant piece of fabric. It was a cute little red bear with a top hat and a monocle, holding an apple.

"And you're the one who's going to be wearing it." She giggles loudly.

"What!" I yelled and cut myself off as soon as I started speaking, for the sake of not drawing attention.

Some of the other students working on the festival with us, turned around to stare at me, which made my face get hotter. There were multiple groups, separated and doing different projects.

"I never agreed to that!" I whisper.

"You're the one who didn't want to do any of the decorations. Didn't you say you're better at organizing than creating?"

"Well, yeah, because I couldn't be creative if my life depended on it! What about the other girls? Why can't they do it?"

Isabella, who overheard the conversation all the way from the back of the classroom, sitting on the floor, turns around. "Ari, I'm doing the decorations and Laurie is going to be hosting the event. You know, like talking on the mic and commentating." She stops before hitting me with the truth. "All you've done until now is the schedule, which took you like 30 minutes." She rolls her eyes.

I humph and sit on the chair nearest to Layla as I stare at her hands sewing the mascot's top hat.

Layla gives me a sympathetic look. "Hey, at least no one will know you're wearing it, right?" She smiles.

I look away in defeat. I guess it wasn't that bad after all. No one would see me if I was covered from head to toe in a bear costume.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"How are you going to make the fur?" I ask curiously.

"The main costume is already made," She says. "I only need to make the clothes and the accessories."

I nod my head.

Layla loved fashion. Every now and then, she'd send us a picture of a new project she had done, in the group chat. Her work was amazing. She knew how to crochet and knit, as well. For my birthday, she even made me a white faintly layered maxi dress. Her parents were supportive of her career choices, after realizing her evident talent in her niche. She was able to choose a path that she loved and I was very happy for her.

She fiddled with the strings and needles, stitching parts of fabric together, and cutting up loose thread. When she was done sewing the hat, she sent it over to me for inspection.

I spun the top hat around in my hands, trying it on and testing its quality.

"The inspector approves of your work." I toss it back to her, smiling.

Yesterday, I fell asleep at 3 am, reading a romance book. I woke up at 8 and only had about 30 minutes to get ready before the bus passed by.

I begged Cristian to bring me to the college building because I ended up missing the bus. When I arrived, I was already 30 minutes late for my biology class.

The teacher is not going to be happy.

I rushed through the hallways, holding a small pile of papers for the essay I was supposed to hand in. Of course, I didn't run, because people would stare at me weirdly, but I was speed walking.

I don't know which is more embarrassing.

Looking down at the pile in my hands, I recounted them for the fiftieth time to make sure I didn't forget one of the papers at home.

In a split second, all those papers came flying out of my hands and onto the ground as I bumped into something hard. Stumbling, I tried to regain my balance and looked up to see who I had bumped into.

Shit.

Not him again.

He glared at me and glanced at the papers on the floor. he looked back up in my eyes and I diverted my gaze. His piercing eyes were not something I was going to be messing with today, not tomorrow.

"This is the second fucking time." He spits out harshly.

My heart drops and shame washes over my face. Before I got to say anything, he'd left without a word.

He could've helped me pick up my papers, at least.

No, why would I think that? He obviously hates me.

I'm so stupid.

I shouldn't be messing with him. Not that I'm doing it on purpose of course, but I have to be more attentive.

I sigh and pick up the pile.

Now I had to face the judging faces when I entered my bio class.

◆◈◇

"Tia Maria this, tia Maria that," Cris said annoyedly.

My mom continued rambling on the phone. To the same tia who she'd been mentioning in every conversation.

"She was literally telling me yesterday about how tia Marias 10-year-old twins can make better quesadillas than me." He rolls his eyes and continues eating the empanada in his hand.

I stare at him questioningly. "Cristian, that's actually a serious problem."

He swiftly turns his head around and repeats my words mockingly. My brother starts dissecting the empanada in his hand and eats the meat without the crust.

What a weirdo.

"No puedo tomorrow.. but I'd love to meet your kids on another day. What are their names again? Mateo.. Aria.. Nathaniel.." She laughs. "You have so many I've lost track." my mom jokes around with the same lady.

Annoyed, Cristian steals another empanada from her untouched plate. "Does she seriously have nothing else better to do than talk 24/7 to Maria?"

Finally hearing his words, my mom shoots him a deadly glare as he gulps down his bite difficultly. Soon after, she goes back to her phone.

"I can't believe how responsible your son is," she goes on to say to her. "All my son is good at is sitting on the couch all day and yelling at the soccer players on the screen." She stares at Cristian while saying each and every word with no hesitation.

Offended, Cristian crosses his arms and pouts.

My brother acts like a child. I can't believe he's 7 years older than me.

"At least I don't talk about people's parents like that." He mumbles, rolling his eyes.

"Terminé contigo" She slams the phone on the table as her eyes meet my brother's with fury. "Get out of the house, ahora."

He stiffly gets up from his seat and gives her two thumbs up nervously. "No hay problema. Right away ma'am." Making sure to clean his place along the way, he heads towards the front door.

Typically, he comes back in and rushes towards me, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the house as well. "You're coming with me." He states.

Why do people make me do things without consent?

'One Last Time' by Ariana Grande played inside the gas station. If I could, I'd be singing my lungs out at this very moment.

I stared indecisively at the candy hanging on the supports in the aisle.

Sour candy or sweet candy? Or should I get chips?

I really don't know. I don't feel like wasting money.

I checked outside the store window to see if my brother was done filling up gas. As it seems, he was talking to some random crackhead. Cristian does too much sometimes.

Scratch that. All the time.

I turned to see if my indecisiveness bothered the cashier.

The cashier looked done.

She seemed as if she was holding on with only 2 hours of sleep. It was concerning. Her eye bags were dark. She held an energy drink in one hand and her phone in the other. It seemed as if she was reading something. The moment she caught me staring at her, I quickly looked away.

She's going to think I'm stealing now.

I had to buy something, or else she was going to assume that I'd committed the crime of theft.

Whatever, I'll just grab a random bag of chips.

I headed towards the counter with my item in my hand and waited until the lady woke up from whatever spell she was in. Before she did, I heard the bell of the door as two people came inside. One of them was Laurie.

Laurie?

I stared in awe as she walked in, alongside a guy I'd never seen before. She was smiling at him before she locked eyes with me and her mouth fell wide open. We both stared at each other in shock as her face got red.

"You okay, baby?" The tall guy asks her.

Baby??

She never told us that she was in a relationship! That traitor!

Her gaze shifted between me and him until the guy looked at me to see who she was worried about.

"Who's that?" he asked.

She stayed quiet for a while. "My friend," she states bluntly. "She doesn't... know about us." The words were said as she stared at her feet.

Sitting in a circle, me and the girls were designing the map of the stands and stations for the festival. Laurie, who sat in front of me, kept staring at me every two seconds. Every time she did, I would fake cough. She most definitely knew that I would tell them about what happened yesterday at the store. I couldn't keep a secret and she knew that.

One time, Laurie had told me that she failed an exam and I told my mom about it. My mom, being the chatterbox that she is, called up her mom and repeated my words to her. Laurie got grounded that day and held a grudge against me until today, four years later.

I looked at the pencil in my hand.

Wow. So blue and wooden. I hope Laurie isn't still stabbing me with her gaze.

I look up.

Nope. She still is.

I hum a chant, beginning to get nervous.

I look up again.

She's still staring!

I use a different technique to distract myself and doodle on the pages of my open notebook.

I peek up at her.

She's not going to stop.

"Alright! What the hell is going on between you two?" Bella asks with a raised eyebrow.

We both direct our gaze towards her, distracted.

Carefully, I think of something to say without spilling any unwanted information. "I don't know. Ask Laurie." I shrug.

Laurie eyes me up and down and frowns. "Nothing, I'm just appreciating Ariana for being such a good person who doesn't meddle into other people's lives."

Isabella shifts her gaze between both our faces, mine watching Laurie in fear while hers eyes me with determination.

"Ariana... do you have the chemistry notes from last class?" Laurie fakes a smile at me.

I was about to say that she was there last class and already had the notes, before I realized what she meant.

I gulp nervously.

I'm dead. She was going to murder me. It wasn't my fault that I found out she was dating someone.

"Of course... because you weren't there last class, haha. Let me get them from my locker.." I anxiously reply, fiddling with the pen in my hand.

We both got up and headed towards the door, before getting out of the room. As we walked through the hallway, Laurie suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bathroom.

She pushes me against the wall and stares into my eyes.

"Ari, please. Don't tell anyone you saw me with him." She pleads.

Her look made my eyes soften.

"I'll try..." I look down. "But why are you keeping such valuable information from us?"

She hesitates and stares at herself in the mirror. She brushes a hand through her platinum blond hair and opens her mouth, attempting to answer.

"Isabella doesn't like the guy I'm dating." She reveals. " She told me that he was a bully back in high school and that I shouldn't mess with him." She sighs.

Then why is she messing with him? Why would she date a bully?

As if reading my thoughts, she goes on to answer my questions. "I'm dating him because I know he changed. He's not the same person Bella described him to be."

"But why don't you wanna tell her?"

"You know how she is, Ari." She sighs. "If things don't go her way, she'll make them go, one way or another."

I nod in understanding. Isabella can be quite manipulative.

Even when we were kids, my cousin always used to stare at my toys in jealousy, even though they weren't much. She'd always beg her parents to get her the same toys or better than mine because she wanted to be better than me. My mom always thought she was a spoiled brat.

I know, I sound like a hater when I describe her. But even though she has so many flaws, I still love her.

"Okay," I breathe out. "I promise you I won't tell anyone."

She smiles at me in relief.

Here we were at another tutoring session.

Just like last time, I was doing my work while she did hers. Except, this time, I couldn't bring my mind to think about anything else other than what Laurie told me.

I never knew Laurie thought of Bella that way. I've always thought that they were close friends and didn't judge each other. I guess my cousin really was worse than I thought.

Who would've known that Laurie was that scared of her?

I stare at the papers in front of me. Rereading the last sentence I wrote down, I realized that it was disgustingly confusing. I don't know what I wrote.

I think I should stop working before I spread any more of my monstrous poetry.

Staring at the girl in front of me, I tried to understand what she was working on. I believe she was doing trigonometry. Wasn't that a subject for high school students?

"Hey, how are you learning high school subjects in college?"

She looks up at me, confused. "I'm a high school student."

Oh.

How did Ms. Ferguson match me up with a high school student? Perhaps her program was for all types of students. She could've told me at least.

She goes back to work as I watch in silence. I look around at the things she brought to the library.

Suddenly, a picture catches my attention.

The paper was slightly peeking out from the bottom of the book she was working in.

"Can I see that?" I point to it.

She stares at what I was pointing at and her eyes go wide. She nervously fiddled with the paper before handing it to me.

I take the paper delicately and stare at it.

It was a beautiful drawing.

She drew the silhouette of a detailed macaw, flying across a small river.

Woah, how did she have the time to draw that?

"I'm sorry." She apologizes.

I shoot her a confused expression. What was she sorry for? This drawing was breathtaking.

"Why are you apologizing?" I laugh. "This is so good."

She stares at me with shock, as if no one had ever told her that before.

"... because I was drawing instead of working."

Offended by her statement, I reply. "If I had your talent I would never open a single book." I chuckle. "I would be famous and sell my pieces for thousands of dollars," I say so, imagining myself up on a stage, showcasing all my art and the expensive price tags that come with them.

She giggles at my sentence, which brings me out of my imagination. Then, her face suddenly falls back to how it was before.

"My brother tells me that I should drop my hobby because it won't bring me anything in life other than distractions." She tells me, staring at the ground.

How could someone ever tell her that?

Art is the foundation of everything. Life can't move without art.

"No offense, but your brother is an idiot," I state.

She looks back up at me with a faint amused smile on her face.

I continue. "Without art, there wouldn't be any culture, which is a shame because I don't think I could ever live without my Colombian heritage. We would also be very depressed because it's the one thing that allows us to truly live." I tell her. "We can't live without art, so don't listen to your brother when he says that." I cross my arms.

She stared at me in surprise, shocked at my statement. "No one ever told me that." She smiles. "Everyone always tells me that drawing is useless and won't bring anything to the table."

"Well, they're wrong. Why do you think celebs are rich? Because of the art they create." I tell her softly.

A bright smile she tries to suppress makes its way onto her lips.

I take in her smiling face and feel proud of myself.

Have we finally broken the ice?