#romanceclass2016: Something To Say

Act 1. Chapter 5

Ever since she invited me in her home where we talked about everything except our first encounter, she acted more relaxed when she was with me—laughed freely and frequently, asked mundane questions that came to her mind though her stance still remained the same. Think about royalties who were not in front of the media. But that was only if there were just the two of us. Otherwise, she was in her prim and proper self, a stiff rod plastered to her back. I wasn't one to pry into someone else's life so I didn't ask her why there was a need to act like a princess in front of everyone else.

As for me, the jitters I had whenever our casual conversation went longer than my five-minute quota didn't disappear. But I found an antidote—to act indifferent, distant or even cold towards her. It was how I controlled the crazy beating in my chest and the extensive sweating of my hands whenever she was close.

"Why is it called 'Spanish bread'? Is it from Spain?" she asked while I laid a plate of one roll and a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. She would usually order another piece if she felt like it. Or if she wasn't done pestering me yet.

I clicked my tongue. It wasn't the first instance she asked me something so random. Most of the time, I thought she was doing it to annoy me. Most of the time she would succeed. But I never complained and tried my best to indulge her. "Why do they call them 'French fries', are they from France?" I returned.

"You're so cranky, Igo," she remarked, taking a bite from her first Spanish bread for the day.

"Because you're in my work place, Yasmin. I can't entertain other customers if you keep bugging me," I muttered.

We were already in third year high school when my parents decided that the store needed some renovation. It was eventually called Pandora. The renovation included expanding the floor area to accommodate several tables and chairs because my dad started experimenting on coffee and other drinks to go with his bread selection. We also hired two employees. Since we were the only bakery in the village, we always had customers. And on my free time, I always helped out.

As Yasmin was a frequent customer, she was also invited to the soft opening. From that day forward, she never missed a weekend to drop by for merienda. My mother would ask me to cater to her needs which, in my opinion, Yasmin enjoyed as it was the only time she got to order me around. If that was a hint of her rumored power-tripping, I had to say she held herself back.

"What? Am I not a paying customer? Do I not give money in exchange for the food I eat and the service you provide?" There was a glint in her eyes, and that upturned corner of her lip again. "Why are you even working as a waiter here? I thought you said you wanted to be a businessman?" she tacked on.

"Experience. I wouldn't know the value of hard work if I don't know how difficult it is to earn money in exchange for time." Yes, I was being compensated for the hours I worked at Pandora. That was why I often turned down invitations from my friends to hang out so I could earn money—half would be my baon, while the other half my mom deposited into my life insurance account.

Yasmin just simply rolled her eyes. "You're too serious, Igo. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"You're one to talk. Where is your boyfriend? Shouldn't you be out with him today?" I grumbled, pretending that my patience in entertaining her was wearing thin.

Yasmin lowered her lids and poked at the half-eaten piece of Spanish bread on her plate. "I broke up with him."

She brought Leandro Corpuz to Pandora once. He was not the first boy she dated. She openly told me about all of them, their profile, where they met, how often they dated and why it didn't work out. But among those I met as Yasmin had a habit of bringing them to our store, I noticed they had similar qualities—with easy confidence, wore good and probably expensive clothes, went to exclusive or international schools, drove their own expensive cars whose labels most people had a hard time pronouncing—basically they had the characteristics and lived lives of what could be called 'modern princes'.

Leandro was her fourth prince.

People who knew her or tracked her dating behavior would easily brand her as a playgirl. I didn't. As a matter of fact I saw her dating around as a way to realize her dream of marrying a prince. It was a numbers game. That if she dated more, she'd come closer to meeting that one guy who would sweep her off her feet, whoever the hell that would be, and take her to a castle far, far away.

"Oh? How come?" I asked, trying hard to fight a grin that was creeping up my face. There was a strange satisfaction that her breaking up with her boyfriends brought me. Something that I was not stupid enough to tell her not only because I didn't want her to know but because I had not fully understand it myself so I set it aside and shoved it at the back of my mind.

Also, I wanted both of us to believe that I never really cared about who she was dating. But I did and I didn't let her catch any hint because she didn't need to know.

From the first time I met this Leandro Corpuz, I knew he could never be trusted. One look at his bloodshot eyes, his discordant answers to my questions told me he was bad news. Yet Yasmin couldn't stop blabbing that he was her and her mom's ideal type (which sometimes sounded forced). So I kept my criticisms to myself. I figured, any piece of advice wouldn't matter if she had already made up her mind. At the end of the day, everything still boiled down to her choices.

"He was doing drugs."

Which I already knew judging by the earthy smell from the guy that I caught a whiff of the first time we were introduced. My dad and I once had to handle a customer who was high on weed and the smell stuck to me.

I ruffled her head, a gesture she would never allow if we were in school while we studied in the library or while we ate lunch if I wasn't with my barkada or her with her clique. "Your drink's discounted at fifty percent."

"Just fifty?" she asked incredulously as she fixed her hair into a bun.

"You could've enjoyed a free drink had you realized sooner that he is bad news," I sneered at her and she just stuck her tongue out at me.

"Are you going to the JS prom?" she asked without preamble, her attention still on the piece of bread on her plate.

"No. My mom's going to take me to a seminar." And I was thankful for that. Social activities such as proms and going to clubs were not my thing. I'd rather stay at home and help my parents or learn something from a financial seminar than get stressed asking a girl to dance with me. Because besides Yasmin, I didn't mingle with other girls at school so fat chance getting a date to the prom. Asking Yasmin barely crossed my mind. Or if it did, I immediately dismissed it. I knew she'd easily turn me down because based on her male preferences, I didn't and wouldn't meet her expectations. And she would be the only name on my list if I ever had one. I'd rather keep my pride intact than suffer a rejection that I knew was going to come from her.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Such a bore," she muttered and stuffed her mouth with the last piece of the roll.

I was laughing when I took the empty plate from her. She always had something snarky to say about me in her vain attempt to put a dent on my ego. But nothing she said ever offended me.

Besides, I couldn't care less if I was boring. I had dreams to chase, not girls to impress.

Also, even if I tried impressing Yasmin, I wasn't even remotely close to what she considered a modern prince. So I didn't.

It turned out she also missed our first JS prom because she had to attend a socializing event with her mom.