School was over, and I couldn't shake the thought of the text I'd received, urging me to come to a location I didn't fully recognize. Normally, I wasn't the type to indulge such whims—I dreaded listening to my inner thoughts because they always seemed to lead me toward danger. But today felt different. Maybe it was curiosity or a need for distraction, but I decided to obey for once.
I slipped on my hoodie over my school uniform and walked along the path leading to the park. The crisp afternoon air carried the scent of blooming flowers, a small comfort against the nervous energy stirring in my chest.
The park looked familiar, like a picture from a life I was trying to forget. The swing set, the benches, even the overgrown hedge by the entrance—all of it stirred memories I wasn't ready to revisit. Betrayal had a way of imprinting itself on places, turning them into shrines of pain.
Just then, a hand covered my eyes, startling me. My heart leapt.
"Is that you, Nathan?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. Silence greeted me. "You've realized you were wrong, and now you need me back, don't you?" I added, more bitter than I intended.
"No," came a voice, quieter and tinged with disappointment. The hand dropped from my face. "You really can't remember me?"
I turned, and relief washed over me. "Oh, it's you." My shoulders relaxed, though I felt a tinge of embarrassment. "Why'd you call me here? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he replied with an easy grin. "I just wanted to hang out."
I raised an eyebrow. "Hang out? With me? Don't you have, like, a million friends? You seem too popular not to."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But I thought it'd be nice to surprise them by showing up at school unannounced. Besides, I consider you a friend—a very close friend."
"A close friend? After a day?" I scoffed, but his warmth chipped away at my skepticism.
"Yep," he said simply, his smile disarming.
I couldn't help the way the corners of my lips curved upward, though I quickly suppressed it. "Be careful not to trust too easily. You don't want to end up like me." My voice faltered at the memory of Nathan.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
"Not something I want to talk about," I said firmly, cutting off the conversation.
He seemed to understand and nodded. "Okay, I get it." Then, with a playful grin, he added, "So, who's Nathan? Your boyfriend?"
I blinked, taken aback by his boldness. "Somewhat. Ex, actually," I replied. My chest tightened, but I forced a light tone. "And I still don't want to talk about it."
He laughed softly, and we began walking toward a nearby café. The small shop smelled of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries, its interior lit by soft golden lights. We ordered two cups of coffee and found a quiet corner to sit in.
As we sipped our drinks, he leaned back in his chair. "You know, we've been hanging out for two days now, but I don't even know your name."
I smirked at him. "And yet, you claim I'm a close friend? Impressive logic."
He chuckled, not at all fazed. "It's not my fault you didn't introduce yourself. I've been waiting patiently."
"Sure you have." I rolled my eyes but gave in. "Nelissa Jayson. And you?"
He tilted his head slightly, his grin widening. "Ryan Wilson." He paused, studying my reaction. "The last name might sound familiar to you."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to place it. "It does, actually. Should I know you from somewhere?"
"Who knows?" he said with a playful shrug. "Maybe I'm secretly famous, and you're just slow to figure it out."
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "You've got a knack for being mysterious, don't you?"
"Only because it keeps you intrigued," he replied, his grin never wavering. Then his tone softened. "You've got a beautiful name, Neli. Mind if I call you that?"
"Hmm," I said, pretending to deliberate. "I don't usually let people shorten my name."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? I didn't realize I'd have to win a court case to get permission."
I laughed, surprising myself with how easily the sound came. "Okay, fine. You can call me Neli."
"Permitted at last," he said dramatically, earning another laugh from me.
The conversation turned lighter as we walked, filled with lighthearted jokes and the occasional playful jab. Ryan's humor was infectious, and I found myself smiling more than I had in weeks.
As we neared the bus stop, he suddenly slipped his hand into mine. My steps faltered, and I looked up at him, startled, but his expression was calm and unassuming. I didn't pull away. The warmth of his hand was comforting, a quiet reassurance in the wake of my heartbreak.
We waited together until the bus arrived, the headlights cutting through the dusk. Ryan watched as I boarded, giving a small wave before I took a seat. The bus pulled away, and I caught one last glimpse of him standing there, hands in his pockets, before turning my attention to the streetlights flickering on.