My annoyance towards Tyrone was growing stronger with each passing moment. He was being so harsh and unpredictable, like a rollercoaster of emotions.
"Are you okay?" Rye asked me for the nth time. I tried to muster a convincing reply, but my voice betrayed my true feelings.
"Yes," I said, but it lacked conviction.
"You don't seem so," Rye observed.
"I don't know," I sighed. Tyrone's behavior had affected me deeply. I couldn't believe he was ignoring me after what had happened between us.
As we entered the classroom, my heart skipped a beat when I saw Tyrone sitting with his friends. I had momentarily forgotten that we were assigned seats right next to each other in this class too.
Act like nothing happened, Diane. Ignore him, I repeated to myself. I focused on Rye, who was now seated on my left side, while Tyrone occupied the spot on my right.
"There's a tournament next week, Ty. Are you up for it?" one of Tyrone's friends asked him.
"I guess so," I overheard him reply.
"It would be nice to see you back in the competition. After you left the badminton team, everyone seemed down. It just wasn't the same without you," another friend remarked.
"I have my priorities, Dee," Tyrone explained.
"Oh, shut up! You're always like that. It's too early to focus on your company. Enjoy life! The company can wait," Dee retorted. Tyrone remained silent, and I pretended to write something in my notebook to avoid attracting attention.
"You have a crush on him, don't you?" Rye whispered to me, but it felt like he was shouting it. I glanced around to see if anyone had overheard, but fortunately, no one seemed interested in our conversation. I motioned for Rye to come closer, and he obliged.
"My taste is not that good, right?" I asked him, seeking confirmation of what he had just said. Rye laughed at my question, and I felt like I could confide in him. He rolled his eyes playfully at my statement.
"Girl, you obviously have good taste in men. Look at him, so handsome!" Rye commented, making me chuckle. He sounded so gay when he said that.
"You sound so gay," I teased, meaning no offense. Rye rolled his eyes at me again.
"Tsk! I can kiss you right now if you want," he said, challenging me. I couldn't help but smirk at his statement. Why do some guys think they can prove their masculinity with a kiss?
"You're crazy!" I laughed.
"Really? You don't think I can do it, do you?" he retorted, trying to suppress a smile.
"Then do it," I said bravely. Deep down, I felt a connection with Rye. I sensed that he might be gay, and I had many gay friends, so I found it easy to talk to him. He could fool everyone else, but not me. As I saw Rye earlier, I couldn't help but notice his subtle yet distinct charm, which unmistakably revealed that he was gay. Perhaps growing up with my mom, who often surrounded herself with her gay friends, allowed me to recognize the telltale signs. They are the most delightful, lively, and creatively gifted individuals in the world.
Rye was a picture of elegance and handsomeness. His choice of attire exuded sophistication and cleanliness, showcasing his impeccable taste. Dressed in finely tailored clothes that complemented his features, he carried himself with a sense of grace and poise.
His perfectly styled hair framed his handsome face, and his eyes, sparkling with warmth and wit, captured the attention of anyone who glanced his way. A mischievous smile played on his lips, hinting at the playful and charismatic nature within him.
The way he moved was as graceful as a dancer, and his gestures added a touch of refinement to his already magnetic presence. Every step he took seemed to glide effortlessly, leaving a trail of admiration in his wake.
Rye's charm wasn't just limited to his appearance; it extended to his personality as well. He had an air of confidence that was mixed with kindness and humility, making him approachable and friendly. His laughter was contagious, brightening the room and drawing people closer to him.
It was clear that Rye possessed an innate sense of style and self-expression, unafraid to be who he truly was. His authenticity radiated through every gesture and interaction, leaving a lasting impression on those fortunate enough to cross his path.
"You surely won't regret it, baby," he said, winking at me. I couldn't help but giggle at his playful nature. I knew Rye was just joking, but some of our classmates had overheard our conversation, and their curiosity was evident. Rye leaned in closer to my face, causing some classmates to react with excitement and whispers. I felt a surge of nerves, but I didn't show it to Rye. For a moment, I doubted my assumptions about him. His face drew nearer, and I found myself unable to push him away.
My heart pounded in my chest as Tyrone's face drew closer to mine. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to comprehend the situation. His breath, surprisingly sweet like strawberries, tickled my senses. Confused by this peculiar scent, I hesitated for a moment. But before I could react, his words sent a shiver down my spine.
"You are the first one to notice. Please don't tell anyone about my secret," he whispered, barely audible. I opened my eyes, only to witness an unexpected turn of events. A loud crash interrupted the tension, drawing the attention of everyone around us.
Tyrone's friends were quick to react, expressing concern over his actions. Meanwhile, Rye and I exchanged meaningful glances, sensing that Tyrone's sudden outburst was directed at me. He kicked an empty chair in frustration, causing a ripple of shock throughout the room.
"You!" he angrily pointed at me. Rye nudged me and gestured towards Tyrone.
"Bitch, it's you," Rye whispered to me.
"W-what do you want?" I stuttered, bewildered by Tyrone's aggressive demeanor. Why was he angry with me? He had been ignoring me earlier, and now he was furious. I couldn't make sense of his bipolar behavior.
"You! You are my problem!" he declared, causing all eyes in the room to focus on us.
"Tyrone, what the fuck do you want?" I retorted, annoyance creeping into my voice. I rolled my eyes at his antics.
"You don't know?" he said, disbelief evident in his eyes. Did he seriously expect me to understand the reason behind his tantrum? Then his gaze shifted to the person next to me—Rye. "You'll go with me. You have a lot of explaining to do."
My ears pricked up at his request to explain. Explain? Explain what? This guy was beyond frustrating, and it felt like he should be the one doing the explaining, not me. As far as I knew, he was the one who disappeared for a week without any explanation. Then, when I entered the room, he didn't even bother to smile or acknowledge me, as if I meant nothing to him. And now, he had the audacity to ask me to explain?
The nerve of this guy was unbelievable. It was as if he expected me to understand his behavior without any clarification from him. I couldn't help but feel hurt and confused by his actions. We had a connection before, and now it seemed like he was deliberately pushing me away.
I wanted to confront him and demand an explanation for his sudden change in attitude. How could he act like we were strangers when just a week ago, we had shared moments together? I deserved to know what had happened, what had caused this rift between us.
My emotions were a whirlwind of frustration, hurt, and anger. It was clear that he was playing some sort of game, but I wasn't about to let him get away with it. If he wanted me to explain anything, he needed to come clean first and provide some answers for his own behavior.
As I tried to make sense of the situation, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his actions than met the eye. Was there something else going on in his life that was affecting his behavior towards me? Or was he deliberately trying to distance himself from me for some reason?
Either way, I couldn't ignore the fact that his aloofness hurt. I had trusted him, and now he was acting like I was insignificant to him. The ball was in his court now; he needed to explain himself before he expected anything from me.
I was infuriated by his demand. What did I need to explain to him? He was being impossible. He forcefully dragged me outside, and I didn't want to follow him. But his grip on my hand was firm, leaving me with no choice.
"Wait, dude. She doesn't want to go with you," Rye intervened, appearing out of nowhere. I hadn't realized he had followed me. In that moment, I thought Rye was straight, but his words proved me wrong.
"Don't start with me," Tyrone spat angrily at Rye, who had done nothing to provoke him.
"Then fuck off!" Rye fired back, clearly not intimidated.
"What did you just say?" Tyrone's anger escalated, and his face turned red. I caught Rye's eye and shook my head, silently pleading for him to stop provoking Tyrone. But Rye held my hand and shielded me behind him, further infuriating Tyrone. "Don't fucking meddle with us, dude!"
"I said fuck off. Diane obviously doesn't want to go with you," Rye stood his ground, refusing to back down. A crowd began to gather around us, witnessing this tense altercation.
"Is that the effect of Diane's kiss, huh?" Tyrone taunted, moving closer to Rye, and locking eyes with him.
"What kiss are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered by their heated exchange. I noticed Tyrone's hand trembling, and fear gnawed at me. I didn't want things to escalate further; I was afraid he might punch Rye.
"Oh, I see. So, that's the only reason why you're this angry? What the hell, dude?" Rye continued, oblivious to my efforts to stop him. He seemed determined to enrage Tyrone even more.
"What kiss?" I asked, feeling invisible as they ignored my presence.
"What would you do if I told you that Diane's kiss is more than enough for me? I was so lucky to kiss her," Rye smirked, raising my astonishment. We hadn't kissed; he was deliberately provoking Tyrone. "What? Why are you so angry? It's not like Diane dodged or something. You can't even do anything about it."
"You're wrong! I can do something about it. How about you take this!" Tyrone retorted, lashing out with a powerful punch that struck Rye hard in the face.