Sixteen-year-old Yasmine Emori Sanders was getting ready to start at a new high school. She recently moved in with her sister Charlie after her mother's death. The death ultimately took a toll on her. She didn't eat or sleep for weeks. Her mother wa...
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Yasmine woke up Monday morning, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension about the week ahead. As she stretched and glanced out the window, the sunlight streaming in seemed to promise new opportunities waiting just beyond her doorstep. The weekend had left her feeling buoyant. Her conversation with Noah had lingered on her mind—softening her thoughts, leaving traces of something warm and unspoken. She knew she liked him, though he had Kataleya, and she was just... well, she didn't know what she was to him. A friend, maybe more. Yet, Saturday night's conversation had sparked a quiet hope within her. She couldn't help but wonder if this friendship, this hidden connection between them, might deepen into something more, even if they couldn't openly acknowledge it yet.
With a deep breath, Yasmine resolved to embrace the week with optimism. She could almost feel the start of something. Maybe with a little patience, she'd find out what that something was.
She put on Glorilla's new album, Glorious, letting the bass and beat fill her room as she showered, the rhythm setting her mood. After getting out, she moved through her routine with extra care, choosing an outfit to match her freshly styled hair: a white and black graphic tee that read "Rich," a black tennis skirt, her gold Nike Vomeros, and a gold purse from Shein. She took a long look in the mirror, adjusting her necklace, watching herself with a slight smile. Today, she felt confident.
Before heading out, Yasmine peered into her sister Charlie's room. Charlie lay curled under the blankets, her breathing deep, eyes closed in what looked like a peaceful sleep. Yasmine watched her for a moment, a knot of frustration twisting in her stomach. She and Charlie hadn't spoken much since the hospital. Yasmine had done everything for her, yet her sister was still cold, distant—like all the effort Yasmine put in meant nothing. She felt the usual resentment rise but tried to push it down, turning away. She didn't deserve this, but she'd survive it. She didn't have a choice.
The school day moved slowly, but finally, first period arrived. Yasmine took her seat in English, only to spot Noah a few rows over, flipping through his notes. Just seeing him made her feel a little better. There was something about being near him that made the rest of her frustrations fade. As he looked up, his eyes found hers, and he flashed her a familiar, lopsided smile.
"Hey, Smiley," he said, that nickname still soft, still their own little secret. She smiled back, feeling her face warm.
"Hey," she replied softly, pulling out her notebook.
They worked on the project together, their conversation easy, full of little jokes that felt like anchors in the middle of their busy classroom. Noah kept leaning closer to show her something, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers as they moved through their ideas. Each touch felt electric, almost too much, but she couldn't seem to pull away.
"Want to finish this later?" he asked, his voice low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Maybe at your place?"
Her heart skipped. She knew Kataleya was still in the picture, but the thought of Noah coming over filled her with a thrill she couldn't ignore.
