Cinderella Who

Chapter Six

"What are you planning to do?" I asked Asher who was busy pinning the posters on the walls. He looked really determined, his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

He had asked me for help, to find me — or Cinderella like he thought. We were in a busy hallway, many students were hurrying up after their classes ended. He didn't care, he just wanted to find me. He murmured, "Finding her."

"It's not like she's going to pop out of nowhere and admit that she's the one." I told him, trying to wake him up.

"It's just an additional support," He said. "I think I have an idea who she is."

"Who?" I challenged him with a question, making him stare at me wide-eyed. He couldn't possibly know that Cinderella was me, because he's too dumb to know. We already knew each other which meant that he should had known that she was me. But, here he was — still bewildered by who she was.

"I can't tell you," He said, sticking another poster on the wall. "You're not a trustworthy person."

I snorted in disbelief, I said, "That's amazing coming from you! I'm trustworthy enough to help you out."

He stopped pasting posters on the wall and whirled back. Sighing deeply, he said, "Just shut up, will you?"

"Whatever."

I looked closer at the posters she had been stapling on the walls. Those posters were in different colours and can-be-torn-off strips were dangling at the bottom. They were phone numbers, Asher's phone number. These words were written on the papers, "If you find Cinderella or you are Cinderella, please contact the phone number on the strips below."

He was seriously determined to find Cinderella, even though that moment we met was very short. I asked him, "Do you have any evidences?"

"Hmm?" He mumbled, not paying attention to me again.

"Evidences." I repeated myself, getting sensitive and annoyed.

"I have one, but you don't have to know." He answered me, putting an end to my next question.

"Why can't I?"

"Because I said so."

"I thought we're friends."

"Nope, no excuses."

I needed to know, he could've had a clue that could lead to me. I couldn't let him fall in love with me and I couldn't let myself fall in love with him. Why? Because we're not meant for each other. I might be judging too fast, but I was still waiting for him. So, I whined, "Tell me!"

"No."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Fine then." I said, dropping those papers onto the floor — making him stare at me wide-eyed with a glint of anger. I lifted up my foot, not yet stomping. Glaring at him, I said, "Tell me now or those posters will go to hell."

He stiffened like a block of ice, looking at me with his jade orbs. His eyes didn't twitch, his fingers didn't move, and he was holding his breath. Releasing his breath could only release his anger. He said, "Fine."

I lowered down my foot and forced a smirk in victory. I took those posters from the solid ground and carried them in my hands. He said, "It was a shoe."

It was my heel. He had it, the one that I accidentally dropped in the party. But, it wouldn't be solid enough unless the other heel was found, and the one who had it was found. But, I didn't have the heel, I lost it. I murmured, "Oh? A shoe?"