The player and the shy girl (english version)

A Chance Meeting

"Emma, you're here!" I hear my mom call from the kitchen as she approaches us.

She smiles at my mom. "Hello," she says, lowering her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Step aside to let the girl through," my mom instructs, and I move aside, watching as Emma hesitantly enters.

"I'll go grab the things," she says. I look at her, my brow furrowing.

"What are you doing here? And how do you know my mom?" I ask, my tone serious.

"Don't worry, I won't tell her anything about what you've done!" she retorts, I seize her wrist, pulling her closer.

"That's not what I asked. Shut up" I say calmly, trying to suppress my frustration.

"My aunt is friends with your mom, or so I gathered. I don't really know her,I just came to pick up some things!" she explains, and I scrutinize her.

"And why did you come?"

"Do I owe you an explanation?" she snaps back, attempting to break free from my grip, but I pull her in closer to stop her from avoiding me.

Her breath quickens as she meets my gaze.

"Don't come any closer!"

I intentionally close the distance.

"Well, Emma, here are your things," my mom chimes in, and I let go of her, stepping back.

She glances between Emma and me. "Is something going on?"

I look at her. "No, what could possibly happen?"

Emma takes a deep breath and replies, "Thank you very much!" She heads to grab her items.

"Emma, they're heavy," my mom points out.

"I'll help her," I offer.

"Why not, take the car!" my mom suggests.

"No need," Emma replies.

"Its okay Emma" my mom starts, looking at me, silently urging me to assist.

I take two bags, while Emma grabs the other. She opens the door and steps outside, and I follow her to my car. I pop the trunk, and we load the items in.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks, looking at me intently.

"Which part?" I respond.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're too weak to carry them by yourself!"

She chuckles softly, and I raise an eyebrow at her. I move in closer, cornering her with my hands on either side.

Her fragrance envelops me.

She locks eyes with me. "I'm not weak!"

"Are you sure?" I tease, leaning in closer.

She scans me from head to toe, swallowing hard.

"Yes!" she insists, her gaze steady. I see her bravery, but it's fleeting. I smile inwardly.

She looks at me oddly, rolling her eyes.

I raise an eyebrow and draw nearer, within mere inches.

Let's see if she's really as strong as she claims.

I inch even closer, our lips barely five centimeters apart.

She studies my eyes, then my lips, tilting her chin up.

"Back off!" she commands, challenging me.

Her words ignite a heat within me, and I freeze, taken aback.

I hadn't expected her to say that.

She smirks, pushing against my chest with her hands.

"Someone else is weak!"

I stare at her, my composure returning. I say nothing and step into the car.

She really got to me! And here I thought she was just a shy, annoying wallflower. But I won't let her off that easily, she asked for it, and she'll get it.

She hops into the car, and I start the engine. She tells me where her house is, and I park in the driveway.

We unload the bags, and she opens the door, inviting me in. I take in every detail of her home.

"Thank you," she says, smiling at me.

It's the first time I've seen her smile genuinely, without a hint of sarcasm.

"Anytime," I reply, returning her gaze.

"Can I get you something?"

"A glass of water would be nice."

She heads to the kitchen, and I wait. When she returns with the glass.

"Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, but my aunt visits me sometimes."

I nod in understanding.

It's clear to me she's strong, living on her own after losing her parents.

I realize for the first time that I regret something I've said. I wouldn't like it either.

She keeps her eyes on me, and I meet her gaze, nodding slightly.

"I'm sorry that i hited you ," she says, furrowing her brow, exhaling deeply.

Did she just apologize for punching me when I deserved it? I look at her in surprise, then glance away, rubbing the back of my neck.

Her unexpected kindness makes me feel awkward, and she must notice, as a smile creeps across her face.

"I didn't mean to say that about your mom," I admit, avoiding her gaze. I'm not good at apologizing and hardly ever do.

Yet she has me feeling remorseful for something I typically stand by without question.

I meet her gaze again, and she smiles back.