After meeting Jasmine on the stairs, Carole and I continued up to my flat. Carole wasn’t talking much, and I knew better than to try to chat her up. She would have to deal with this in her own way; I had lied to her about Jasmine, and she had found me out.

It was a stupid lie, and Carole particularly hated being lied to. She equated it to being taken for a fool. Jasmine had totally ignored Carole and it was obvious from the way she looked at me that we had unfinished business.  Then she had simply walked off, without saying a word.

Back in my flat, after a silence that seemed to last ages, Carole quietly told me: "Please Shem, listen to me. Whatever you do, stay away from that girl Jasmine. She is not a good person. She has a cold heart.”

Exactly the impression I had of Jasmine! I was impressed and a little curious how Carole could have known about Jasmine just by looking at her.

Maybe she knew her from somewhere else. She rubbed it off to women’s intuition and "sixth sense”. Well, her sixth sense must be pretty good, because she had pinned it down accurately: Jasmine wasn’t a good person, and it had taken me about two weeks to find that out.

I promised Carole that I wouldn’t get involved with Jasmine in anyway, but I turned to be a liar. Jasmine refused to leave me alone. Next morning, after Carole left, Jasmine walked into my flat without knocking.

Trying not to make it so obvious that I was staring at her, and feigning anger at her intrusion, I asked her what she wanted. She ignored my question, walked around the flat, looking around like she was planning to buy it.

Then finally, she asked me if I had some drinking water. Well, I doubted she’d come up to my flat only to drink water, so I asked again. "Jasmine, what do you want?”

At this moment, I was still wondering whether she knew that just the previous week, I had been so hot for her that I’d even spied on her. I was already late for work, so grabbing my bag, I told her to either tell me what she wanted, or get out. I surprised myself. I didn’t think I could be tough with a pretty girl like her.

But she didn’t even seem to be fazed by my tough attitude. Looking at me, she said in that clear voice I have heard in my dreams so very often: "You are late for work.

Can I see you after work? Perhaps not in your house?” Well, Jasmine had just asked me out! After I spent weeks trying to figure out a way of asking Jasmine out, she had done it herself! I remembered Carole’s warning, but my hormones got the better of me. We arranged a meeting place, a garden-bar, and agreeing to be there at 6 pm, she left my flat.

Five minutes later, Carole called. She asked me if Jasmine had come back to my flat. I lied, but I could tell she had not believed me. I don’t even know why I lied, but I was spooked by Carole’s sixth sense, or whatever she preferred to call it; first, she had described Jasmine down to a dot, and now, how had she known Jasmine would come back?

That whole day, I thought of nothing but my evening date with Jasmine. More than once, I let my imagination fly to that place where I fantasized that Jasmine had a crush on me, that she was crazily attracted to me.

Then, I remembered who Jasmine really was, remembered my battered down Toyota, and my perpetually dry bank account, and rapidly came back down to earth.
In the afternoon, I called Chris to ask him for tips on how to net chics efficiently.

He wanted to know which chic I was after, but then I remembered he too was interested in her, so I lied to him. 5 o’clock on the dot, I left office and headed straight to the meeting ground. I was strangely elated, but I was also wary about something I couldn’t place.

Twice, I almost turned back, so I wouldn’t meet Jasmine. To make it worse, Carole called me again; she wanted to meet up, go watch a movie. I lied to her that I was still at work.

Then after a silence, she asked me: Shem, you aren’t going to see Jasmine, are you? How on earth does Carole get to know such things?!?!

Ends