This is getting out of hand.
The knot in my stomach won't loosen. He's not the sort who hands back things politely — I know that. There'll be a twist. A smirk. A performance. And my scarf… my favourite scarf, the one Mum gave me, is gone. She'll notice. She always notices. I can already see her eyes when she asks, and I can't lie; it's like my mouth has betrayed me before I even try.
I yank at my hair in the mirror until my scalp protests. The person staring back looks like a runaway from a disaster movie. "Why is this happening to me?" I mutter to the empty room, because talking to walls is cheaper than talking to people.
I shower until my skin prunes, brush my teeth like a robot, get dressed, and finally force myself downstairs. My dad's already in full-volume morning mode.
"Oli! You up so early?" he bellows from the kitchen, the toast apocalypse in the background.
"Morning, Dad." I smooth my skirt and lie. "Had to go to college early."
He's already calling, "MOM! Oli's leaving—she'll have breakfast on the way!" His voice trails as I grab my bag and practically sprint out the door.
Outside, the air is thin and sharp. I thought I needed fresh air. Turns out I needed a miracle.
Halfway to college my heart stops: his car idles on the sidewalk like it always does, windows reflecting the sky.
For a second the world tilts and I'm a puppet whose strings are tangled — I both want to see him and run so fast I'm airborne. It's only been four days since we met, and… how do I have this many emotions about one person? Maybe because he's always there, like a question I didn't ask.
Instead of walking forward I start walking backward, then break into a run away from campus.
I know I am already full of everything that's happening and I know nothing will get in my head during lectures and I really and absolutely need a break.
I don't know where I'm going — just somewhere that isn't his orbit. I end up at the lake, exactly where I planned not to be, and sit on the bench that faces the water: a place far enough from everyone who knows me.
The lake is a gray sheet with quicksilver ripples. Ducks argue. A child's kite tugs itself into the clouds. My thoughts, though, are loud as a brass band. I try on scenarios like outfits: tell Mum I lost it in college; say it vanished on a bus; confess the absurd truth — "I left my scarf at a boy's hideout." The last one makes me laugh, a small, sharp sound. Laughter that turns into something like breath-holding.
I know, if I shared this to my parents, they will definitely rub it off saying, "You think too much" or "Maybe there's nothing", "Oh, the boy must be in love with you", etc, etc.
Maybe he likes me, maybe the feeling is mutual too, but I can't stop feeling scared of him. It's just an attraction and I cannot tell since its only been a few days.
I have been brainstorming every one of my thoughts sitting on a lakeside bench – I need to be thorough.
"Hey." The voice drops like a pebble into the pond of my concentration.
I don't turn right away. My heart makes some new, reckless plan. When I do look up, he's a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets, that unreadable expression he wears like a uniform.
Again, how is he here? How does he always find me?
"H…hi?" I sounded more curious than I wanted to be.
What?
"I thought I saw you running back when I was parking", he said softly, "and that maybe something is not right and I should check on you."
Oh! So now we are both skipping lectures. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!
Why heavens, why?
All I ask is for a day away from him, to clear my mind, but no! he has to be here, with me!
"That's very nice of you", I couldn't be more fake.
He held up my scarf like it was a trophy.
Twirled it around his fingers as if it were nothing more than a piece of fabric.
"Give it back." I stood up, reaching out, but he took a deliberate step back.
"Not so fast," he said, eyes glinting. "You left this at my place. Maybe it likes being there."
I groaned. "It's a scarf, not a pet."
"Maybe it misses me."
"Maybe you miss me," I shot back before my brain could stop my mouth.
He grinned wider. "Now we're being honest."
Shit.
I did not say that out loud. I DID NOT SAY THAT OUT LOUD.
"Ugh, you're impossible." I turned away, crossing my arms, trying to breathe. I could feel his gaze on me like static, and I hated how aware it made me feel. I came here to not think about him, and yet here he was — hijacking even the quiet.
"Relax," he said, walking closer, his voice softer now. "You look like you might actually throw me into the lake."
Blah blah blah.
Does he even know that I will actually do that?
"You really look cute like this – annoyed", he laughed — low, unbothered.
I threw him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You're unbelievable."
"Semantics," he said, spinning the scarf around his hand again. "You're here. I'm here. Fate clearly ships us."
"And yet," he said, stepping closer — too close — "you still want your scarf back."
My breath hitched. He dangled it right in front of me, close enough to touch, but when I reached for it, he pulled it away again, smirking.
"Say please."
I froze. "You're seriously doing this?"
He shrugged. "Seems fair. You left it. I rescued it. I deserve a little gratitude."
At this point he is just testing my level of patience and I am sure of it.
I clenched my fists.
"You're unbelievable" I said that with gritted teeth.
I wanted to scream. Or maybe laugh. Or both.
He watched me like he was waiting for the explosion — calm, infuriatingly sure of himself, like my irritation was part of the fun.
"Fine," I said through my teeth. "Please."
He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed my cheek, his voice dropping low. "You didn't mean it."
And before I could answer, he walked right past me — scarf still in hand — and said over his shoulder, "Guess I'll keep it a little longer. It suits me better anyway."
I stared after him, half in disbelief, half boiling.
The lake breeze picked up, and for a second, I thought about chasing him down and snatching it back — but then I stopped. No. Let him have it. Let him think he's won.
Because the next time I see him, it won't be by accident.
And he won't be the one in control.