12 Steps to Not Fall in Love on Wattpad

ᴛʜᴇ "ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ" ᴛʏᴘᴇ ✉️

— Mom! Have you seen my black pants?

Of course, the one pair of pants I need has vanished into Narnia. Fantastic. I’m already late, and this is just the cherry on top. 

— Inside the dresser! — Mom yells from the kitchen, but let’s be real here, if they were inside, I would've found them by now. But I know she's only trying to help so I swallow the urge to be snarky out of frustration.

I try again, scanning the dresser like a detective, but nope. No pants. Guess it’s time to go through my entire wardrobe to find something that’s not going to make me look like a potato. 

Why do I have to make this so hard? I’m literally just trying to get dressed. 

— What time is the interview again? — Mom pops her head into my room as I’m tying my shoes. I can already hear the hope in her voice, the kind of hope only a mom who wants you to succeed would have. 

— Eight a.m. I’m calling an Uber so I won’t be too late.

I finish tying my shoes and take a look in the mirror.

Everything looks... fine, I guess?

This shirt is big, just the way I like it, but it still hugs my love handles like it’s trying to make a point that I'll never feel comfortable no matter the clothes. And don’t get me started on my ponytail—it looks like I’ve been dragged through a bush, I don't know what to do with my hair by now, the curls keep getting dry.

Okay, time to stop degrading myself. I promised I wouldn’t call myself average anymore, that I'd try to be positive at least once in my life. So, here I am, trying my best not to mentally sabotage myself. Even though I wanna cry whenever I look in the mirror.

— You got this, okay? — Mom says, and I can see her eyes sparkling with hope, like I’m going to change the world with this interview. She's the best, but this is too much pressure.

— I know. — I grab my bag and check it for anything I might’ve forgotten. With one last deep breath, I head out of my room, mom following behind like my personal cheerleader. — I’ve got a good feeling about this interview. I’m sure the job is mine.

Actually, I'm not sure about anything at this point.

— Well, be safe. And call me if you need anything.

I give her one last smile while secretly panicking inside. But I can’t show her that. She believes in me too much, and I can’t let her down.

Not again. 

I walk out of the house, heart pounding in my chest. The bus stop is just around the corner, but I can already feel the pressure building. If I don’t get this job... well, it’s not like I have much of a backup plan. 

What if they want someone with more experience? What if they want a degree? What if I hate the job?

What if they don’t like me? 

My phone buzzes, breaking my spiral of anxiety. 

It’s her. 

I remember sending her a message last night telling how much I loved her energy and how she seemed like such a genuinely nice person. I fell asleep before getting a reply, and this morning has been so hectic that I almost forgot she hadn’t answered. 

Until now. 

xxx: :3 thank you. I was nervous cause I was worried if I was being annoying or something... I know sometimes I can be 

xxx: You seem genuine too :3 

My heart skips a beat.   

I try to keep my face neutral, but the grin is practically glued to my face. 

Stop it, Nini. Don’t be that person who smiles at their phone in public like a weirdo. You’re not one of those people. 

But... maybe just a little?

Okay, I’m not that much of a sap. 

But if she thinks a simple compliment like that is going to make me all soft, she’s got another thing coming...

Shit, the bus! 

I snap out of my love-struck daze just in time to sign for the bus to stop instead of leaving me there looking like a loser, pay for my ticket and shuffle onto the bus, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might have witnessed my little meltdown. I don’t even want to think about the fact that I almost missed the bus. I never miss the bus. 

Social anxiety 101: I’d rather walk than squeeze myself into a crowded bus, but here I am, doing the exact thing I promised I’d never do. 

I sit down quickly, grateful for the empty seat, but still feeling like everyone’s watching me.

But hey, at least I made it. 

And she already made me feel better.