That night, keeping my roommates’ worries in mind, I nervously made my way to the playground. There, under the national flag, I spotted Asher. He looked intense with his sharp features and his messy bangs falling over his forehead, as if he’d been waiting forever. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and was kicking at the broken stones on the ground.
When Asher’s in a bad mood, even passing dogs get kicked.
Summoning all my courage, I almost fell to my knees, clinging to his leg and putting on a tearful performance.
“Asher, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize that was your blanket. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have dared to do it. Please forgive me.”
I apologized in a jumble of words, wishing I could prostrate myself. Honestly, with my acting skills, I should have won an Oscar. It’s their loss that I didn’t go to the best Film Academy.
Asher leaned against the flagpole, his high frame giving him an imposing presence. He looked at me thoughtfully, his height and demeanor radiating a sense of intimidation.
“Are you saying if it wasn’t my blanket, you’d have dared to do it.”
“No, let me explain—”
I was about to defend myself when I suddenly heard some strange, disembodied voices.