"So how about a date?"
I ignored him and tried to open my locker but he wouldn't let me.
"Aww. You know you can't resist me, sweetheart."
I sigh. This has been going on for a week. Jacob is known as the womanizer of the school. He's slept with half of the girls in the school at least once, and now he is after me. Even though I've said no repeatedly. Well, I never actually said no. I don't want to hurt him. It's so stupid because he breaks hearts constantly, but that doesn't mean I want to be the one to break his heart.
"Can you please move?" I ask as politely as I can.
"Can you please go on a date with me?"
"Ummm," out of the corner of my eye, I can see my friend, Jessica, shaking her head at me. I sigh. One date can't be that bad right? Just one date and he'll realize I'm not the one for him and leave me alone. Just one date and he will move on and this will be over. "Sure."
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(Authors Note: The first part was a flashback, we are now in the present)
"Suzie?" Jacob sat across from me, tapping my hand.
"What?" I asked, snapping back to the present.
"The waiter is here," he said, gesturing to the woman smiling down at me.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," I said, looking down at my menu.
"Mesmerized by my eyes?" Jacob said, leaning over and taking my hand. "I get that a lot."
I wrinkled my nose, but he didn't notice. The waiter noticed my expression and smiled at me sympathetically.
"First date?" She asked.
Jacob squeezed my hand and smiled proudly. "Nope," he said. "One year anniversary."
One year anniversary. The words echoed in my head, getting louder each time. One year anniversary. One year dating Jacob. One year.
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Thoughts? Do we like it? Do we not like it? Any constructive criticism?
Thank you soooooo much to whoever reads this!!!
- Cindy <3
YOU ARE READING
This Is Love
RomanceI have always tried to be nice. Nice is good. Nice is going on a date with someone, even if you don't like them. Nice is not breaking up with someone, even if everyone of your friends (and the logical part of your brain with some self...
