| Imran Adebayo Ibrahim |

They must have been teaching therapists the art of patience in school because Miss Charlene had plenty of it. She sat dutifully, staring at me and waiting for me to start. I didn't break the silence. Instead, I just sat down, frowning and watching the pendulum swing. As it came to rest, I swung it again, hoping to frustrate my nosy therapist, who thought the best solution was for me to get my ass whooped by my bully.

I don't know what they teach at Harvard, but I'm sure Miss Charlene learned the opposite.

In what world would a sane person put the prey and the predator together? Even Nat Geo Wild wouldn't pair a meerkat and an alligator in a documentary, but all-knowing Miss Harvard did the unthinkable.

Miss Charlene didn't flinch. Her calm, patient gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, shaken only by the rhythmic tick-tock of the pendulum. I knew she was waiting for me to talk, to open up, but I wasn't ready to give her the satisfaction.

Finally, she broke the silence. Miss Charlene leaned forward with that trademark calmness and she asked, "How was school today?"

The anger that boiled inside me didn't allow me to resist the urge to quip, "You tell me, you're the one who graduated with distinction from Harvard."

She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "I'm guessing it was bad."

"Ohh. . . you figured that out so quickly. Way to go, Sherlock Holmes," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

One point to Imran; Charlene — zero.

She didn't miss a beat of it. "I know you're angry right now, and I'll tell you your emotion is valid."

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Please, spare me the trouble. Why on earth would you recommend me to tutor Chris? Are you trying to turn me into a martyr?" I inquired.

"The last session we had, I couldn't help but notice some tension between you two. You're a bright kid, and Chris, well, he's not exactly acing his classes. So, I think it would benefit both of you to make peace," she said, as composed as ever.

"Peace? More like pieces if he gets hold of that hatchet," I shot back. "Miss, you can't just Frankenstein us together. Chris terrifies me."

"Imran, focus," she said, locking eyes with me. "He's just intimidated by you. Chris has his issues, but I saw in your file that you two went to the same school back in Nigeria."

"So that makes you the matchmaker? Why not pair up with Mr. Breckley since he also went to Harvard?" I retorted, instantly regretting it. "Sorry," I muttered.

"Touché," she replied, nodding and jotting something down with a smile. "I see we're making progress."

I frowned and threw my hands up in a questioning gesture. "Progress? What progress are we talking about here?"

"You're talking to me freely, Imran," she replied, her smile widening. "You even made a sarcastic comment. That's a great start."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "So, sarcasm is your measure of progress?"

"In this case, yes," she said with a chuckle. "It means you're engaging with me instead of shutting down. It's a small step, but it's significant."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "So, what's the next step in this grand plan of yours? Group hugs and trust falls?"

She laughed, a genuine sound that softened the tension in the room. "No, nothing that dramatic. But maybe you could start by trying to see Chris as more than just a threat. He's struggling too, you know."

She glanced at the clock and then back at me. "How about this? If you agree to tutor Chris and make peace with him, I'll tell the principal you don't need these therapy sessions anymore. You'll be free from me."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's quite brilliant. So, I tutor him, we make peace, and I get out of therapy?"

"That's the deal," she confirmed with a nod and a smirk.

I thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal."

"Great," she said, her smile widening. "I think that's our time for today. See you next week, Imran."

"Thanks, Miss Charlene," I muttered with a frown as I walked out of her office, ready to confront my demons, one step at a time.

* * *

Later that day, Starbucks was busy with activity, and everyone was extremely busy, especially me. While brewing coffee, I also handled the customers' change.

The steady hum of conversation and the clinking of cups created a sweet harmonious melody. Despite the cacophony, there was a rhythm to it all, like a choreographed dance of orders and smiles. I moved from the espresso machine to the register, greeting regulars and newcomers alike.

Amidst the rush, a sudden silence fell over the store. I glanced up to see Francis, walking in with his usual jovial grin. He swam through the crowd and came up to the counter.

"Hey, man," he greeted me, leaning against the counter. "Thought I'd come by and keep you company."

"Perfect timing," I replied with a grin. "Grab an apron and help me with the register."

Francis, having nothing else to do, quickly stashed his bag under the counter and he put on an apron. "Drink your milk," Francis read out what was written on the apron, "I like it." He nodded with a smile.

"Imran, what was with the disappearing act?" Francis inquired further, handing a pastry to a customer.

"Didn't you see Sahar's new boyfriend? He's perfect. I couldn't hang around," I replied, frustration clear in my voice.

"Who says he's her boyfriend? They might just be friends," Francis suggested, scanning another order.

"Friends? Francis, they had enough chemistry to light up the room," I countered, shaking my head.

"You can't give up that easily. Sahar likes you, I know it. Who wouldn't?" Francis said, giving me an exaggeratedly dreamy look.

I snapped my fingers. "Focus, Francis, and cut out the swooning," I said, handing a customer their order.

"I'm serious, man. You need to fight for her."

His words lit a spark in me. Maybe he was right. Sahar had tried to confess her feelings to me the other day, and I just brushed her off. If I proved myself worthy, I might win her back — but I'd need to hit the gym to match that guy's build.

"That's doable," I mumbled, pouring hot water over the ground coffee beans.

"Yeah, it is. Now stop chatting and do your work. And you, Francis, focus. The money doesn't count itself," Alex, my superior, said as he walked past us.

"But I don't work here," Francis replied, leaning back.

"I'm not paying you to complain," we heard Alex call from the storage room.

"You're not paying me," Francis said, handing an older woman her change with a smile.

"Don't mind Alex, he's a jokester," I said with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, he's a real comedian—" Francis began.

"Hi, can I get a café latte?" someone ordered. Looking up, I saw it was Sahar's new shiny boyfriend. Was he stalking me now? Why was he at my workplace?

He smiled at me. "Bruv, it's you! You guys are Sahar's friends, right?"

I nodded, forcing a polite smile. "Yeah, that's right."

"I'm Raheem," he introduced himself, extending a hand. "I'm in the eleventh grade. Just moved to the neighborhood."

"Nice to meet you, Raheem," I replied, shaking his hand a bit too firmly. "I'm Imran, and this is Francis."

"Hey," Francis said with a nod, busying himself with the register. Raheem leaned against the counter, looking around the café. "This place is pretty cool. I've seen Sahar here a few times, and she mentioned you guys."

"Yeah, we hang out here a lot," I said, trying to keep the conversation casual while preparing his latte. "So, you and Sahar seem pretty close, huh?"

"She's been really helpful, showing me around and introducing me to people," Raheem replied with a smile.

"Of course, she is," I said, trying to hide the edge in my voice. "She's great at making everyone feel welcome."

"So, how are you finding the new school?" Francis asked, glancing up from the register.

"It's good. A bit overwhelming, but Sahar and a few others have been really welcoming," Raheem replied, still smiling.

I handed him his latte, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. He seemed nice enough, but I couldn't shake off the jealousy. "Here you go."

"Thanks, man. I guess I'll see you around," Raheem said, taking the cup and heading toward a table.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Francis leaned in. "See? He seems decent. Maybe I was wrong about the boyfriend thing, though." He concluded, draping his hand over his chin.

"Maybe," I chimed, my jealousy popping beneath the surface. "But I still need to prove myself worthy."

"Then start with what you can control," Francis said, giving me a pat on the back. "Apologize to Sahar for being a jerk, I certainly don't know what happened between y'all but I know you were wrong."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, nodding. "Thanks, Francis."

"Anytime, man," he replied with a grin. "Now, let's get back to work before Alex throws another fit."

We continued serving customers, but my mind kept drifting back to Raheem and Sahar. The spark of determination Francis had ignited in me burned brighter, fueling my courage. I would prove myself, not just to Sahar, but to myself too. The next time I saw her, I'd be ready to apologize to her — then I'd tell her how I feel about her — hopefully I would be chosen and Raheem won't get past the friend zone.

Hopefully.

Author's Note

Oh my my. . . our little Imran is getting witty (hehehehehe). Don't forget to vote, comment and share. Love y'all!