#romanceclass2016: Something To Say

Act 1. Chapter 4

Yasmin and I lived in the same village. I knew because her mother was a suki of my dad's pastries, she'd often call to have some bread delivered to their house though we didn't have delivery services. I pointed this out to my father when he asked me to do the delivery one day and he said it's going the extra mile for a customer who had always patronized his goods.

I didn't expect Yasmin, her long wavy hair down and in her casual outfit of shorts and a loose long-sleeved shirt, to open the gate. Her eyebrows did all the greeting as they went sky-high, the closest reaction she gave, I noted, when she was surprised.

I remembered all the training I had with my parents and managed to put up a half-smile, pretending it was my first time to see her. "Good morning. I'm here to deliver Mrs. Elizabeth's orders?"

She cocked her head to the side and...smiled, the little dimple making another appearance. "Wow. Never thought there would come a day that you'd be the first to talk to me."

"Never thought there'd come a day that you'd actually smile," I shot back with a grin.

"What? I do smile a lot," she defended with a pout.

"But they don't reach your eyes."

She looked down on her feet and thoughtfully chewed on the insides of her pinkish cheeks as though resisting a bigger smile to appear on her lips. What was stopping her to show her teeth when she smiled, I wanted to ask. As far as I knew, she didn't wear braces. She didn't have crooked or yellow teeth either because I would have noted that in the few times we talked.

"Uh, the bread..." I said, lifting the paper bag of warm freshly-baked goodies to her eye-level, dismissing the awkwardness suddenly bleeding into the atmosphere because I had been staring again.

Yasmin snapped back to attention. "Oh right," she mumbled as the paperbag exchanged hands. "Come in." She opened the gate wider, motioning for me to follow her and I did. "Ahh...these breads smell so heavenly!"

Hearing her say that made my chest swell with pride for my father. We always heard other people sing praises about his fluffy artisan breads tasting so rich and unique from the other bakeries. But hearing it from Yasmin was a bit different. Or maybe because I had not heard a thing from my other batch mates who had bought and ate my father's baked goods.

After placing the paper bag on a coffee table at the sitting room, she disappeared on top of the staircase and I realized that the whole house was silent—no house helpers nor Mrs. San Carlos whom I had expected to personally be there when I delivered the goods. I knew of her father who was a Director at some multinational company and I had met him a few times, but no sign of him in the house either.

"Here." She handed her payment that I stared at because I didn't have enough change with me. I assumed she was going to pay 50 pesos, not a crisp 100.

I scratched my head wondering if this girl didn't know the common rule to drivers and vendors early in the morning. But then again, people who were raised with silver spoons in their mouths most probably were either not allowed to ride PUVs or didn't have the chance to make transactions with anyone who worked outside malls and hotels. "Uhh...I'll be back with the change."

"How is she?" were my Mom's words as soon as I parked my bike in front of the store.

I almost asked her who she was referring to but figured she knew about Yasmin being home alone. My Mom was the more people person compared to my Dad. She was in charge of taking good care of our customers which was why it didn't puzzle me anymore if she knew stuff in other households.

"She looked okay," I answered while handing over the payment for the delivered goods.

"That's good to know. I heard from Manang Mary that the poor child's having the colds and couldn't accompany Elizabeth at an event so she stayed behind," she shared while counting the bills and coins from the cash register. "Yasmin likes the Spanish bread. I think it's her favorite. That's why Papa always gives her an extra piece."

Vaguely, I wondered if they would scold me for not giving her one way back in third grade. I didn't know she was such a fan.

The gate was open when I got back and I let myself in to see Yasmin sitting at the doorstep, as if she was waiting for me to return. Which was understandable since she expected a change for her payment.

"That was fast." She stood up and tied her hair into a messy bun.

"Here." I handed the coins and bills to her.

"Thanks."

"Sure. See you around I guess." I was about to turn when I saw her hesitate. I raised an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips before speaking. "Would you like to come inside?"

Perhaps my ears were playing tricks on me because she sounded a little hopeful. Then I thought maybe she needed company because she was sick. A cynical part of my brain thought that it was a trap she was leading me into so that she could avenge herself from feeling humiliated back in third grade.

"I

have to help out at the store..." my voice trailed off. Which wasn't exactly a lie. During weekends and semestral breaks, I subbed my Mom in manning the store while my dad was at the back baking.

"Oh." There was no frown. But her eyes said a lot of things the rest of her face didn't. She again lowered her lids. "Okay then. Thanks—"

"Five minutes," I heard myself blurt out.

Her eyes snapped back to my face. "Huh?"

"Five minutes. I can stay for five minutes. I heard you're having the colds. No wonder your nose is blushing." It was a lame thing to say but I said it because it was becoming awkward again. Finally having the chance to speak to her with just the two of us made me jittery and clammy, my heartbeat in my ears.

She glowered at me, covering her nose with a dainty hand before she sniffed. But her eyes eventually smiled as she led me to the kitchen where the rolls had been carefully plated and two cups of hot chocolate were waiting on the dining table.