Game of Memories

Mall

As I wander through the shopping center, my mind spins with thoughts about all the huge changes that have suddenly turned my life upside down. It's hard to process everything that's happened over the past few days, and the weight of it all presses down on me.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice someone calling my name.

"Asha!"

Still caught up in my own world, I keep walking, doing my best to ignore the muffled voice. I can't stand that name—it only brings back our painful memories. I never want to hear it again.

"Asha!" The voice is clearer this time.

I let out a deep sigh, realizing that there's no escaping this moment. When I turn around, I see the person calling me—Clyden Vallejo. Just my luck. The last thing I need right now is running into the only guy I ever really cared about, It's like the universe is playing a cruel joke on me.

"Asha, hold on!" Clyde shouts, jogging to catch up. "I'm so glad I found you before you left town," he says once he's close enough. "I was wondering if we could hang out? Maybe get some coffee?"

"Clyde," I sigh, but before I can say more, he interrupts me.

"It's just coffee, Asha. If you feel weird at any time, you can leave. Or if you want me to leave, just say the word," he says. "Come on, Asha, what do you think?"

If I were in eleventh grade, I'd be screaming inside at the idea of Clyden Vellejo asking me out for coffee. Now? Well, okay, maybe I am screaming inside—but Clyde doesn't need to know that. Besides, I haven't seen him since high school. I don't even know him anymore. Not that we were that close back then, but we could have been—before that summer happened.

I bite my lip, hesitating before I finally say, "I guess we could get coffee."

Clyde flashes that amazing smile, and I practically melt. But before he can say anything, I add, "But please, call me 'Ash.'"

Clyde is silent for a few moments, probably processing what I just said. His face shows a little confusion, his eyes full of unspoken questions. I brace myself, expecting him to bombard me with them. But instead, he just gives me a soft smile and says, "Ash it is."

Hearing him say that name lifts a bit of the weight off my shoulders, and I almost smile myself.

"You're leaving tonight, right? Are you free now?" he asks. "My treat."

"Uh... yeah, I'm free now. But no, I'm not leaving tonight," I say cautiously, my chest tightening a little. "Something happened, so I had to change my plans... I'm staying at my grandma's house for a while."

"I'm glad you're back, Ash," Clyde says as he leads me to the closest coffee shop. When we step inside, he gestures around and jokes, "The coffee here is awful, but at least the company's great."

A tiny smile tugs at my lips, barely noticeable—but Clyde catches it.

As we sit with our drinks, Clyde looks like he wants to say something but isn't sure where to start. It makes things a little awkward, watching him open and close his mouth like a fish. But, honestly? It's kind of cute.

"So, how have you been since high school? What have you been up to?" I ask, trying to break the silence.

"I've been good," he answers easily, seeming relieved that I spoke first. "I work at the construction company. What about you? Where have you been?"

"Uh... New York," I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I don't know why, but something about Clyde makes me feel like I can be open with him—like I can trust him with my story. Not that living in New York is some big secret, but still. I get the sense that he wouldn't judge me, and that makes answering his questions a little easier.

"I actually own a small coffee shop there. Brew Haven."

"No way! I've heard of that!" Clyde says, his face lighting up with excitement. "You remember Livi from high school? His little sister moved to New York for college, and when Livi visited her, he got coffee there. He wouldn't stop raving about it for weeks."

I give Clyde another small smile and say, "Yeah... uh, Liana actually works for me now. She's one of my baristas."

"That's awesome," he says, looking genuinely happy. "So you own it? How did that happen? Did you just wake up one day and decide, 'I want to own a coffee shop'?"

"Not exactly," I reply with a quiet laugh. "The original owner took me in when I first moved to New York. I was eighteen, broke, and homeless. He gave me a job and a place to stay. When he got too old to run the café, he passed it down to me."

"Wow," Clyde says softly. After a short pause, he asks, "Did you ever plan on coming back? I mean, I know you're here now because of your grandma, but..."

"No," I cut him off, my tone sharp. I feel a little bad for snapping at him—he doesn't deserve it—but I can't bring myself to apologize either. "I never planned on coming back here. Not after what happened."

"Asha," Clyde says gently, reaching across the table to take my hand. I know I told him not to call me that, but somehow, in this moment, it doesn't bother me. I can't explain why, but something about the way Clyde says that name feels... comforting.

"I'm here for you, you know?" he says softly. "You can talk to me if you want. I won't judge you. And... I don't know exactly what happened senior year, but I do know that the rumors weren't true."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, tears spill from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks. That's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.