As I glance around, I see someone I recognize seated on one of several beanbags. It’s the dark haired boy from class this morning. With his truancy, I would have pegged him as a delinquent. The library is the last place I expected to see him. He seems deeply engrossed in a hard-cover book. I see no harm in introducing myself, so I wander over and gingerly deposit myself on a nearby beanbag chair.
 
At the sound of my settling, his eyes dart up from his book, and he affixes me with a glare. From this distance I notice that, under his fringe, at least a third of his face is covered by prominent scarring. He’s very handsome in spite of his scars. He breaks the silence, and I realize I’ve been staring at him.
 
“Enjoying the view? Go ahead, and take it all in.” A sarcastic sneer adorns his face.
 
I snap back to reality. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Hisako Nakai, and I’m in your class.”
 
He appraises me coldly. His eyes move slowly up and down my figure before settling on my face again. His expression softens slightly as he finally speaks.
 
“I suppose I can forgive your intrusion. Not many people have the courage to approach me. My name is Hayato Ikezawa, by the way.” His expression changes from distaste to indifference as he returns to his reading. Silence prevails again for a few minutes before I muster up the courage to strike up a conversation.
 
“So, you like to read?”
 
“I do.”
 
This conversation is going nowhere very quickly.
 
“What sort of stuff do you like?”
 
He glances at me. “I read just about anything, but I prefer science fiction. Dune is probably my favourite series.” He pauses for a moment. “What about you?”
 
“I don’t know much about sci-fi, but I like poetry.”
 
“Oh, really?” He flashes me a quizzical look. For a moment he looks legitimately interested in what I’m saying.
 
“What?” I respond.
 
“Nothing. I guess I just pegged you as the sort who enjoys yaoi manga.” There’s that sarcastic sneer again. My attempts to protest are drowned out by his deep, wry chuckle. When it seems he is sufficiently pleased with my embarrassment, he rises from his beanbag chair. “Well, it’s been fun, new girl, but I’ve got to go do something.”
 
As he turns to leave, my annoyance at his sarcastic demeanour overflows. “I have a name, you know! I’d prefer if you used it!”
 
He turns the unmarred side of his face toward me. He appears to be a little surprised by my sudden outburst.
 
“Well then,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hisako.”
 
I could be mistaken, but as he leaves, I think I see a genuine smile spread across his face.