IF WE NEVER MET.
❝ Despite her name meaning love, Dasom has never experienced the complex emotion.
Having spent her entire life in various foster homes amid the city of Seattle, she never understood the importance of connecting with others. She nev...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nimble thumbs fly across the phone screen, responding to the message she received from Tyler Crowley only seconds prior.
"Jalmos," Dasom curses, as she re-reads over the text she just sent. (Shit.)
"Wow, you want to touvh him Dasom? Yeah, it's real sexy when you have to correct a typo when sexting," she berates herself, thumbs quickly correcting her message.
Message from Tyler Crowley:
Don't worry baby, I don't like smart girls.
Dasom looks at the screen in disbelief. Did he just call her dumb? She slumps against the back of her desk chair, eyes downcast.
Dasom wasn't the brightest student. Having been raised in various foster homes with guardians who spoke her native language, learning the english language wasn't a pressing matter. However, in the past year alone living with the Hamilton's, she thought she had made a rather impressive dent in learning the language.
She regularly attended tutoring sessions in her free periods and every Monday and Wednesday night curtesy of Forks' High School. Angela Weber, her tutor, knew her first language well and had recently congratulated Dasom on her progress.
It was through Angela's tutoring session where she ran into Tyler. She had been leaving her Monday night session and as she was walking through the library exit, Tyler ran into her. He had helped her up from the ground, apologising profusely before asking for her number with a sly wink.
When she had gotten back to the Hamilton's later that night, her cheeks were still aflame and her heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. He had already sent her a text message but she had wanted to "play it cool" like her friend, Arleen would often say.
She waited fifteen minutes before sending back a bashful thank you in response to his compliment on her skirt. It was a cute bumble bee covered white skirt that complimented her olive skin tone and stuck to her legs like velcro.
It had been a Christmas gift from the Hamilton's youngest foster child and her roommate, Miranda earlier that year. Dasom didn't like to think of them as her foster siblings because to be siblings, you'd need to feel compassion towards them. Dasom didn't feel that way.
She never felt the need to connect with anyone in her foster homes or schools she was attending because what was the point? She'd either be on to the next home soon or she'd stick around until her eighteenth when she'd be inevitably kicked out.
Dasom knew the drill. She'd been in enough homes in her seventeen years to know the signs of displacement the guardians would begin to show before she was booted.
The vibration of a message notification against the shared wooden desk interrupted her hurt over Tyler's poorly constructed insult.
Dasom knew it was Tyler texting her again because she only had eight contacts in her phone and only one would be texting her this late.
