Half Said

Christmas break is officially over, and tomorrow college starts again.

I promised myself this year would be different — no more boys, no more draining talking stages, no more giving pieces of myself to people who don’t stay.

I’m focusing on me.

My studies.

My friends.

My peace.

And speaking of friends, Hope walked beside me, sipping her hot chocolate like it was keeping her alive.

Hope is Senegalese — pretty, sarcastic, dramatic, and chronically done with men.

For good reason.

Her last talking stage ended the way most of hers do:

One day he was sending her good morning texts, and the next?

Blocked.

Gone.

Vanished like he got kidnapped by his own ego.

She’s still salty, even though she pretends she isn’t.

“Do you think he’s gonna text me this year?” Hope asked suddenly, eyes on the road.

“No, don’t start.” I said instantly.

She laughed. “Fair enough.”

We pushed the café door open and stepped outside, breathing in the cold air.

“Oh my days — Hope? Jada?” A female voice said as we turn to see it was two girls from our college.

“Heyy.” We both said in sync.

“Are you guys ready for tomorrow?”

“Not even a little bit,” Hope said, still drinking her hot chocolate. “I’m mentally on holiday until March.”

They laughed, then one girl leaned in like she had gossip that needed to escape her mouth.

“You guys heard we’re getting a new guy tomorrow? He’s transferring to our basketball team.”

Hope raised an eyebrow. “Already? Second term starts tomorrow.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” the girl replied. “But apparently he’s really good. Coach sounded excited or whatever.”

“Do you know what he looks like?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Someone in the group chat said he’s tall. And cute,” she added with a shrug.

Hope slid her eyes toward me with the don’t even start face.

I rolled mine right back. “I’m not interested in boys this year.”

The girls said bye and walked off, still talking about the mystery guy.

I tried brushing it off, but something about it stuck with me.

A small feeling — a weird pull — like my year wasn’t going to go the way I planned.

I shook my head quickly.

Nope.

Not thinking about boys.

Not after last year.

Still…

I couldn’t ignore the feeling that whoever this new guy was…

…our paths were definitely going to cross.

Maybe sooner than I expect.