Everyone has that one person they just can't quite get over even though they've moved on with their lives. For him, it's the quiet girl with red hair and forest green eyes.
The Way It Was Before spin-off | Finn's POV
Book cover illustration by raind...
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I tried really hard not to, but it was like remembering someone you never met. It was difficult especially when your friends were not helping.
"You sure have some weird taste, Finn. But if you really like her, stop playing hide-and-seek and just talk to her," Oscar said on one occasion.
I said, for the incalculable time, that I didn't like her, and I wasn't playing hide-and-seek.
"Cut the crap, man. Your actions contradict your words."
I ignored it and told him to entertain his girlfriend instead of poking his nose into my business. I'd continue to pass Autumn by with my nose raised in the air, shooting my friends a smug smile that said "told you I don't like her" and ignoring the sweat dripping down my forehead.
I prided myself on being too cool to be emotionally attached to somebody.
Until one day, she and I were summoned to Mr. Bowen's office. I didn't know during the time that he was playing matchmaker. I only knew it when Oscar gave me a cocky grin the following day and said to me, "Sorry, dude. I didn't know he'd take what I said seriously," with a false apologetic tone.
He had told our teacher how much I liked her.
It pissed me off to no end (seriously? A teacher? It was so damn awkward I couldn't even face him throughout the semester. And since when did Oscar become cahoots with the old man?), and I thought I was going to blow a gasket after hearing it. Then I realized it's not worth being riled up about.
While we were waiting outside the office for Mr. Bowen to arrive, I felt obliged to speak to her. Both of us were pressing our backs against the pallid wall. She was flipping through the pages of her book while I was trying to bear the silence between us. It was heavy and intense that I could feel my skin prickling—who knew silence could be painful? The chattering of the students in the hallway and the sound of their footwear against the tiles weren't alleviating the feeling.
After a moment, I cleared my throat.
"You know, I always see you in the library," I said. She threw me a 'what the heck' look and I reacted quickly, "Not that I'm following you, of course. I just, erm, notice that you always head in the direction of the library. You really love books, don't you?"
Bloody hell. Instead of making the atmosphere light and casual, I made it even more uncomfortable.
She shifted her eyes back to the book. "Yeah."
It was delivered in a flat tone, a clear indication that she wasn't interested in talking and she didn't want to be bothered. But I had to keep the conversation going.
"You love them so much that you read even the preface, dedication and the acknowledgments?" I asked.
"And the footnotes."
I snickered. It was funny for me. People tend to gloss over footnotes. "Don't you have people to hang out with? Friends?"
