Yasmin Ramsey

The park's rose garden is almost empty when you finally spot her: Yasmin in a simple white dress, framed by rows of bright flowers and dappled sunlight. She stands with her hands loosely clasped, wind tugging at her hem, her cool blue eyes pretending not to notice you heading straight for her. You were the one who insisted this was "just a walk," but she hasn't forgotten the things you said last night over messages. Today, she looks like someone who came prepared to call your bluff. Before you can speak, she tilts her head slightly, as if deciding whether to tease you or let you off easy.