Part 3: If Only She Understood My Language
Back in the present, I hugged the pillow closer and smiled at her as if nothing had happened.
She looked at me with confusion written all over her face. Those beautiful, big round eyes and that smileβGod, that smile. It still catches me the same way it did eight years ago.
Mostly because it's the only language she seems to understand when it comes to me.
The memory of how we met still feels fresh.
I first saw her on my first day at my new school. We were in ninth grade.
I had just stepped onto the school bus when I heard her giggling with her friend. I remember being completely stunned by that smile. Later, when I found out she was in my class, I was ridiculously excited.
She probably didn't even notice me during the first week.
Luckily for me, our teacher decided that I should sit with one of the toppers for a project.
"Hello! Are you lost?" she asked one day, catching me staring into space.
"N-no. I was just thinking about how to make your ideas better."
"Well, I think we should get some help from the internet and borrow a few books from the library."
"Tell me honestly, Lara. Do you have a crush on the librarian? Why do you keep going there?"
"Yes, I do have a crush," she replied.
"On books, idiot. Not the librarian."
"Why are you even doing this course? You should've studied literature."
"My mother only agreed to send me this far because she thinks I'm safe with you."
"Doesn't she know I hate you the most?"
But secretly, I wished she'd replace the word hate with something completely opposite.
A loud thunder interrupted us.
It was already eight o'clock, and the rain outside showed no signs of stopping.
"We should get some dinner and discuss the project properly," I said.
"You're right. Should we cook something or go out?"
"Whatever you want, Princess."
"Yes. Because eventually everything has to happen according to your wishes."
To my disappointment, she looked rather pleased.
"That's true," she said proudly. "Let's go to my favourite place. Cheap food and full stomachs."
A few minutes later, we were at the restaurant.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowded entrance before I could say anything.
And just like that, every sensible thought left my mind.
God, I loved being around her.
"Here's the menu," she said.
I glanced at it for barely a second before putting it down.
"You're not even reading it."
"Because I already know what I'm having."
"Whatever you're ordering."
She groaned dramatically while I watched her argue with the waiter about prices and portion sizes.
And for a moment, I found myself wondering if she'd ever realize that my favourite thing on the menu had never been the food.
