It's been a week since Ari moved into our house. And consequently, a week since my two idiot best friends decided their life's mission was to push me into bonding with her—something I'm absolutely not interested in.
Ari, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by all the attention. Not just from my two meddling best friends, but from practically everyone at school after her introduction to the class.
If I'm being honest, she seems like someone who's used to it. The smiles, the lingering stares, the inevitable questions—it all rolls off her like it's second nature.
The real question is, does she actually enjoy all the attention she's getting? Or is she just good at pretending?
Every time I see her, she's surrounded by a crowd. People eager to be her friend, and, of course, the annoying ones clearly trying to get in her pants. Honestly, I saw this coming from a mile away.
People like Ari? They're the quintessential main characters—always the centre of attention, the one everyone gravitates toward. And, inevitably, the one who becomes the target of jealous glares from the unfortunate-lookings.
It's practically a universal law—a law no one can defy.
And me? I'm just a self-proclaimed third-party observer. The kind of person who enjoys watching drama unfold from the sidelines but wants no part of it.
Uneventful life? Definitely.
Convenient? Oh, absolutely.
Like any other day, I sat back and watched Ari hold court in the far corner of the school cafeteria. She was surrounded by her usual swarm of admirers, each one trying—and failing—to win her over. One by one, they crumbled under the weight of her gentle rejections, their faces painted with the sting of unrequited affection.
Oh, what a marvellous sight to behold.
The scene took a dramatic turn when two of the boys started arguing, throwing out accusations about who was making Ari more uncomfortable. The irony was almost too good—they were both so oblivious to the fact that their entire presence was likely making her want to bolt out the door.
I took another bite of my sandwich, savouring the free entertainment. Poor Ari, trapped in the middle of a gaggle of hormonal teenagers who genuinely believed their cringe-worthy displays of "manliness" would sweep her off her feet.
Pathetic.
You might be wondering why I'm not stepping in to rescue Ari from that circus of admirers. Well, let me give you three solid reasons why meddling is a terrible idea for me.
First, I'm no Superman—I don't do heroic deeds.
Second, I'm far too comfortable living my drama-free life to jeopardise it now.
And third, let's be real, my body is definitely not built for a catfight.
As I happily munched on my sandwich, enjoying the chaos from a safe distance, I made a grave error, I locked eyes with Ari.
Oh, crap.
Picture this: while the two idiotic boys were still mid-argument, Ari—with a slightly shy smile—started walking towards my direction, her tray of food balanced in her hands.
No, no, no. God, please tell me she's not actually coming to talk to m—
"Hi, Yumi!" she said casually, her smile so bright it could power a small city. "Is it okay if I sit with you? Some of the seats are occupied."
No, they're not, I silently countered, eyeing the empty table just a few feet away.
I quickly realised that all eyes were suddenly on me. The stares felt like daggers, silently urging me to brush off Ari's request and leave her hanging.
To be honest, I was fully prepared to do exactly that. But then I caught the look on Ari's face—subtle, almost pleading. That flicker of desperation made me hesitate.
With a defeated sigh, I gave a small nod.
The expression that crossed her face in response wasn't just grateful—it was exhausted. And honestly? If I had to endure being the centre of everyone's focus 24/7, I'd probably be just as tired too.
I could feel their gazes drilling into me, like a collective effort to will me out of existence. Well, so much for my drama-free life—it looked like today was the official end of that chapter.
Ari and I ate in silence. No forced conversations (thankfully, since I'm terrible at them), and no one trying to put on a show. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to mind the quietness.
The silence between us was still awkward, but it wasn't as stifling as before.
Which, for me, felt like a bad omen.