Chapter 4
2090 Words
Yara's POV
“You guys are friends now??” Dia shrieked so loud I’m pretty sure the guidance office heard her three buildings away.
She looked at me like I had just announced I was transferring to Mars.
“Girl, how?” Jana added, clutching her chest dramatically.
“You didn’t even like him. Every time we saw him, you rolled your eyes so hard I thought they’d detach and start their own life.”
“I do not roll my eyes.” I defended.
Dia blinked slowly. “Yara. You rolled them like you were charging solar power.”
I ignored that.
“We became friends,” I said, attempting nonchalance. Attempting. “His mom’s confined at the hospital where my parents work. I’m always there. We just… talked.”
“We just talked,” Jana repeated in a suspicious sing-song tone. “Wow. Casual. Harmless. Innocent.”
“What? When?” Dia gasped again, because apparently breathing normally was no longer an option for her.
“I just told you. Last week.”
Silence.
Then both of them leaned forward at the same time.
“So you mean to tell me,” Dia began slowly, eyes narrowing, “last week you got mad because he borrowed one of our chairs and we had to sit at the ove—”
“MAX!” I shouted suddenly, waving like I was flagging down a rescue helicopter.
Both of them snapped their heads toward where I was
looking. And there he was. Walking toward us. Smiling. Brightly.
Traitorous sunshine smile
“Hii,” he greeted, sliding into the empty seat beside me like it had always been reserved for him.
“How was your quiz?”
“Hm,” I shrugged casually, as if my heart wasn’t practicing gymnastics. “I think I did great?”
“I’m sure you did. I gave you my reviewer, remember?” he said with a small, satisfied smile.
Satisfied.
Like he knew.
Like he absolutely knew.
“Errrhhmmm.” Someone cleared their throat. Loudly. Repeatedly. Dramatically.
Max blinked and finally noticed the two human spotlights glaring at us.
“Oh— hi?”
Dia immediately switched into Host of the Year mode.
“Hiii! I’m Dia. Yara’s best friend.” She emphasized best friend like she was establishing territory.
Max shook her hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”
“And I’m Jana,” Jana added sweetly. Too sweetly. “Also her best friend. Since forever. Like, ancient times.”
Max laughed. “Yara. You rolled them like you were charging solar power.” Jana gasped, delighted.
“Yara talks about you a lot.”
I froze.
“I do not.”
“She does,” Max nodded calmly. “Especially when she’s annoyed.”
Dia’s eyes widened. “ANNoyed?”
“Yara gets annoyed?” Jana added, scandalized.
I turned to Max slowly. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” he admitted.
Dia leaned closer to him conspiratorially. “Quick question. On a scale of one to ten, how often does she pretend not to care?”
Max tilted his head thoughtfully. “Eleven.”
“MAX!”
Jana burst out laughing. “See? We knew it! The eye-rolling was fake!”
“It was not fake!” I protested.
Max looked at me with mock innocence. “You rolled your eyes at me yesterday.”
“That was because you stole my pen!”
“You offered it.”
“You stared at me until I did!”
Dia clutched Jana’s arm. “This is so Rom-Com drama coded"
Jana nodded solemnly. “Season one. Enemies to—”
I kicked her under the table.
She yelped.
Max blinked. “Enemies to what?”
“Enemies to study partners.” Dia said quickly, elbowing Jana.
“Very academic,” Jana added.
Max chuckled and glanced at me. “Well, study partner, you still owe me coffee for that reviewer.”
“I do not—”
“You said, and I quote, ‘If I pass, I’ll buy you coffee.’”
Both Dia and Jana gasped in perfect synchronization.
“You’re buying him coffee?” Dia whispered like I’d confessed a crime.
"You can't even buy us candy?" Jana added dramatically
“It’s gratitude coffee.” I muttered.
“Gratitude coffee,” Jana repeated, nodding seriously.
“That’s how it starts.”
“Starts what?” Max asked, amused.
“Nothing!” I snapped, face burning.
Dia leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Wow. Last week she was fighting you over a chair. This week she’s buying you coffee.”
Max raised an eyebrow at me. “You fought me over a chair?”
“He stole it!” I defended.
“There were 2 empty chairs!”
“It was ours!”
Max laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
And the worst part?
He said it like it was a compliment.
Dia and Jana exchanged a look.
Oh no...
That look meant war.
Jana rested her chin on her hand and smiled at Max. “So… do you also get free hospital tours? Since you guys are suddenly besties?”
Max grinned. “Only if she’s the tour guide.”
“I am not your tour guide!”
Dia smirked. “She would be a very dedicated one though. She memorizes schedules.”
“DIA.”
“What? I’m supporting you.” Max laughed again, and I realized something terrifying.
I didn’t mind this.
The teasing.
The chaos.
The way he stayed beside me instead of moving away.
Dia sighed dramatically. “Well. I guess we approve.”
Jana nodded. “For now.”
Max blinked. “Approve?”
“Temporary membership,” Dia clarified. “You’re on probation.”
Max placed a hand over his chest. “I’ll do my best.”
I buried my face in my hands.
They were impossible.
All of them.
And somehow...
It felt nice.
____
“I want blueberry cheesecake. And Spanish latte,” I declared like it was a medical order.
Maxwell raised a brow. “Noted. One slice of happiness and one cup of productivity.”
We were in the coffee shop he suggested, soft jazz playing, warm lights, aesthetic plants that looked expensive and judgmental. He said the ambiance was nice.
He also said he’d pay. So obviously, I agreed. I’m not academically strong, but I’m financially strategic.
A few moments later, he came back balancing a tray like a responsible future husband---
No.
Future nurse.
Future… errrrmmm... something.
“So,” he said, sitting across from me. “How’s nursing?”
“Exhausting. I feel like I’m drowning. And not the fun beach kind. The ‘forgot-how-to-swim’ kind.”
He laughed. “I won’t sugarcoat it. It won’t get any better.”
I stared at him. He smiled wider.
I sarcastically laughed. “Wow. Thank you for the motivation. Florence Nightingale would be so proud.” he chuckled lightly.
“How about you?” I asked. “How’s the mock exam?”
“It was good. So far, so good. At least I’ll have an idea what to expect for the board exam.” He said it so casually, like the board exam wasn’t a monster waiting to eat us alive.
We studied for a while. Or at least, he studied. I was aggressively staring at my book.
He noticed.
“Are you having a hard time understanding that?” he asked.
I didn’t answer immediately because I was indeed having a hard time. I had been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes. The letters were starting to look decorative.
“A bit,” I admitted. “It’s about Diabetes Mellitus Type 2: Complications and Nursing Interventions.”
He gently pulled the book toward him. “Let me help you then.”
And just like that, my heart said thank you.
“There are a lot of complications in Type 2 Diabetes,” he began, slipping into lecture mode.
“First, acute complications—hyperglycemia, hypoglycemia, and Hyperosmolar Hyperglycemic State or HHS.”
He explained hyperglycemia—polyuria, polydipsia, polyphagia, blurred vision, fatigue—like he was telling a story instead of listing symptoms.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t make me feel like I was slow. He made it simple. And somehow… he made it gentle.
I don’t even know if I fully understood diabetes anymore.
All I know is I was staring at him.
The way his brows slightly furrowed when he focused. The way he used his hands when explaining.
The small smile when I nodded like I understood something.
His future girlfriend would be so lucky. A talented man. Smart. Kind. Patient. And very, very—
“Handsome.”
Silence.
Oh no...
His lips twitched. “What?”
My brain stopped functioning. Code blue. No pulse. No oxygen.
“I am fluttered,” he said, chuckling. “But you should focus here. I’m pretty sure you have a quiz tomorrow.”
I cleared my throat like I didn’t just publicly confess a thought. “Of course.”
I grabbed my book back with unnecessary confidence. “I understand now. Thank you.”
“Do you?” he teased.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “Hyperglycemia is when the patient experiences polyuria, polydipsia, polyphagia, blurred vision, fatigue—”
“And?” he leaned closer.
“And… increased heart rate?” I guessed.
He laughed. “That’s you right now.”
I froze.
"Shut up" I said, distancing myself to him
Because he wasn’t wrong.
I tried to focus on the words in front of me, but everything felt louder—the music, the clinking cups, my heartbeat.
This was confusing.
I didn’t know if I finally understood Type 2 Diabetes…
or if I was currently experiencing symptoms of something else entirely.
And judging by the way my chest tightened every time he smiled—-
I might need nursing interventions too.
What us happening to me??
____
After I got home, I compose a text to Dia.
“Dia, how will you know if you like someone?”
I stared at the message for a full minute.
Delete.
Type again.
Delete again.
Because the moment I hit send, she’s going to screenshot it. Zoom in. Circle it in red. Send it to the group chat with a dramatic, “WHO IS HE???”
And if Maxwell finds out?
I will simply pass away. Peacefully. Dramatically. With background music.
I lock my phone. Unlock it again. Panic. Lock it again.
“Okay fine,” I whisper to myself like I’m about to commit a crime.
“Hey Siri.”
Nothing.
“HEY SIRI.”
She finally activates.
“Yes?”
I look around my room to make sure no one’s watching me question technology about my feelings.
“How will you know if you like someone?”
Silence.
Why is she judging me???
Then she starts listing some random article like, “Here are some results from the web—”
No, ma’am. I don’t need Google. I need emotional clarity.
I’m literally asking artificial intelligence to explain my very human stupidity.
I start pacing.
“Why am I like this?” I whisper dramatically. “Why am I asking a robot about a boy?”
I open our chat. Maxwell’s name just sitting there like a threat to my stability.
Why does my heart beat like it’s training for the Olympics every time he sends “okay”???
Why do I reread his messages like they’re poetry?
Why did I smile at my phone yesterday like a weirdo when he said “Take care, Yara"?
Oh.
Oh no.
I flop onto my bed and cover my face with a pillow.
This is bad.
This is very, very bad.
Because if liking someone means:
• Checking if they’re online
• Overanalyzing “haha” vs “hahaha”
• Smiling at your screen for no reason
• Practicing conversations in the shower
• And asking Siri for emotional guidance
Then…
I might be in trouble.
And the worst part?
Dia is definitely going to say, “GIRL YOU’RE DOWN BAD.”
And she would be sooo right.
I stare at my ceiling.
“I can’t believe,” I whisper dramatically, “my love life is being analyzed by Siri.”
Some people confess.
Some people write letters.
And here I am, interrogating AI at midnight like it’s my therapist.
Ugghh I hate my self
- Writer
