“So you read romance novels? They made a movie out of that one, didn’t they?”
“Romance novels? Oh, you mean this? This is literary fiction. Though I guess it would be fun to read just for the love story.”
She was a bit more talkative than usual. Maybe she was into literature? I’d seen her in that section of the library.
“Sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll buy a copy.”
“Go for it. None of the characters are university students, but I think you’d like it. The paperback’s out, so you should be able to get it at any bookstore.”
The conversation was going unexpectedly well. I couldn’t help feeling elated.
“Will it make me cry?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m a sucker for stories like that. I have to be careful.”
“You do seem like the type who would cry when reading such stories.”
She smiled teasingly, which was embarrassing. It was exactly like she said.
“Sorry, sorry. That wasn’t an insult,” she said. “By the way, did you hear?”
She must have changed the subject to spare me the humiliation. We started talking about our mutual friend, who had finally told his crush that he liked her, only to be rejected. I’d already heard about it. In fact, I probably knew more about it than anyone else. Every time I bumped into my friend on campus, he would go on and on about it, and I was the one who had to comfort him in his darkest moments. When I told that to Wataya, she laughed.
“So you heard about how she turned him down.”
“I did indeed. Six times from start to finish.”
“That’s like watching six movies.”
“But every time, to make sure I didn’t get bored, he’d change the details a little and amp up his performance. By the time he perfects his story, it’ll be a real tearjerker. Or, I should say, a great love story.”
As we were talking about love, something occurred to me. I didn’t know if Wataya was already seeing someone. Our mutual friend didn’t seem to know much, either… Maybe now was my chance to make my move.
I got nervous all of a sudden. But Wataya went on talking, oblivious to my emotional state.
“I’m not sure if he’s worried about boring anyone… He’s probably just embellishing it for fun.”
“You won’t catch me complaining about it. There aren’t that many great love stories in real life.”
“…Yes, I guess you’re right.”
For some reason, she paused slightly before answering. Maybe because of the pause, I thought I glimpsed a momentary look of sadness on her face, like a flicker of light.
But I was too nervous to pay much attention to that. I could hear my heart pounding. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to know if she was seeing anyone. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I mean, look how beautiful she was. She must have been in a relationship before. Had she let that person see a side of herself she never showed the rest of us? Was she still showing it to them? I wanted to know. I wanted to ask her about it somehow.
I decided I’d keep things light and ask her casually. Half-jokingly. As far as that was possible, of course. Like it was natural for our conversation to go there.
“I bet you’ve never had a passionate love affair, Wataya.”
For a second, she looked surprised. I instantly realized I’d said something undeniably rude. I tried to apologize, but she had a distant look in her eyes. Then she smiled quietly.
“You just don’t know me,” she said.
“What?”
She grinned again. A horribly sad smile. Then she checked the time on her phone.
“It’s getting late. I’ve got to go. See you.”
With that, she left. She walked off alone like she always did. Silently, I watched her leave. My heart stood still like a pool of water. She had made me realize that she had a whole world I knew nothing about.
“You just don’t know me.”
She was right. I knew nothing about her. Nothing about her present and nothing about her past. Bottled-up resentment consumed me.
That wasn’t all. Maybe I’d never know anything about her future, either…
Later, I asked some of the other people who had been at the party about her. They didn’t know anything about her past, but they did tell me she didn’t seem to have dated anyone since starting university. Which meant she must have been talking about when she was in junior high or high school. I took it she wasn’t with that person anymore.
After that, I refrained from approaching her. Partly because I felt bad about having been rude to her. More than that, though, I’d started to question whether it was enough to scamper around her like a playful puppy. Would things ever progress between us if I kept acting like that?
Two weeks passed before I unexpectedly ran into her again. It was early June, and I was studying in the library for the exams next month. Feeling worn out, I got up to walk around the library to wake myself up. I made sure to steer clear of the literature stacks. But I ran into her anyway. She was in a study carrel, sleeping with her head on the desk, which was unusual.
My heart started pounding. I remembered how strongly I was attracted to her.
The air-conditioning was cranked up high in the library. I was worried she might catch a cold if she continued to sleep there. I waffled but eventually decided to wake her up.
“…Oh, it’s you?” she asked drowsily when I tapped her shoulder. I didn’t have any dirty intentions, but I couldn’t help noticing her delicate shoulders through her shirt. Unsure how to interact with her, I frowned.
“I’m sorry. They have the air-conditioning on high, so I was worried you’d catch a cold.”
“Ah, gotcha. Thanks.”
Maybe it was because I hadn’t seen her up close for a few weeks, but I couldn’t help staring at her. I’d fallen for her hard. She seemed sad but was cheerful, was cheerful but seemed sad… What made her like that? I didn’t know if I liked her because I wanted to know the answer or if I wanted to know the answer because I liked her. When I thought about her, my emotions threatened to overflow.
“Um, well…see you,” I said. I wanted to talk more, but I didn’t want to seem needy, so I turned quietly to leave.
“Hey, I should tell you,” she said.
I stopped and turned back around. She was standing up. For some reason, she wore a bitter smile.
“I don’t like nice guys.”
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe my friendliness annoyed her. Was she telling me to give up on going out with her?
“I’m not especially nice, so you don’t have to worry,” I said.
She was silent.
“Why don’t you like nice guys?” I asked without really thinking.
“…They turn my stomach.”
“What?”
“Humans are fundamentally self-centered beings. But nice guys don’t act like that.”
I wondered who she was talking about. She was standing in the library with me. She was part of the present. But she seemed to be staring at some far-off, distant place.
“You don’t like them because they don’t act self-centered?”
“Right. I want someone who’s egocentric, who does what they want without thinking about others. And if possible…I want them to not care that other people hate them. I want them to thrive with that kind of lifestyle.”
The way she said it made it sound like an ardent wish. When she was done talking, she stared at me. Then she smiled sadly, like she had that other time.
“I don’t think you’re that type, so I suggest you…”
Give up? I think that’s what she was going to say, but I stopped her midway.
“I…like you.”
I felt I had to say it while I still had the opportunity. Once she said “give up,” that would be my only option. But I probably wouldn’t have been able to do that. Knowing I’d lost my chance, I’d retreat to a lonely corner of the world from which I would watch her adoringly, traipsing around campus in her wake.
It was very easy to imagine myself doing that. At the same time, I knew asking her out was a desperate move. She was out of my league. She’d turn me down. I knew she would.
“I’ll date you, but on one condition.”
That’s why I was so surprised when she said that after a long silence. Maybe I’m imagining this, but I think she was taken aback by her response as well.
“Don’t fall in love with me. Can you promise me that?”
The nearly empty library was quiet, with only the soft whir of the air conditioner in the background. In contrast to the outside world, my internal world was incredibly noisy. My heart continued to pound away the seconds of my life.
This beautiful, cheerful, but forlorn woman was standing in front of me. I wanted to know more about her. But she was telling me not to fall in love with her.
What did that mean?
Did she think I was just playing around? That I liked her the same way I’d like a shirt or a pair of pants? But most importantly, what would happen if I rejected her condition? Would she turn the whole thing into a joke and cheerfully end our conversation? If that happened, would I ever get a glimpse of her past or her heart again?
I hesitated only for a moment. Whatever the answer to all those questions was, my mind was made up. I liked her. I wanted to get to know her better. Would my words reach her in time? She might tell me she was joking and withdraw her offer at any moment. Please, make it in time, I prayed.
“Yes,” I said.