Fragments

Love is Blind

This prologue was part of a story I'd tried writing a few months back. It was on Wattpad, but I took it down because I just couldn't continue it. Still, the prologue was one of my favorite romantic pieces I've ever written. 

Enjoy!

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Prologue

May 30, 2030

He's not sure how this date crept up on him. All the endless preparation, the shivering anticipation, the thought that in less than something something, he would be married . . . it never truly hit him. And as he stumbles out of bed, slightly hungover from the amount of alcohol he consumed last night, he considers whether or not this is the right choice. Because he may not be a flat-out genius (unlike his out-of-control, several-times arrested brother Trevor), but he's still smart enough to know that the person he's marrying isn't his soulmate.

"You've got cold feet, man," Seth told him, just hours ago.

Yet he's not sure his all-knowing oldest brother is right on this one. Cold feet is when you're simply unsure but know deep in your heart that you love the one who's going to come down the aisle and stand with you at the alter. This, is something different.

He trips over a stack of books on his way to the bathroom, slamming into the wall. Blearily, he attempts to push them towards his bed, out of the way from the entrance. Whilst that is in action, a flash of orange, peeking out of a library book, catches his eye.

What the hell?

He wants to dismiss it as a bookmark somebody left, but he has a feeling it's not. So he reaches for it and takes the paper out. It's a small, mostly empty index card. There are just three words.

I'll be there.

He's awake now. A memory aches at the back of his mind, him telling his fiance that he'll take care of the guest list and seating arrangements, sending a thick manilla envelope to the last address he's known of her, waiting anxiously for an answer. For an RSVP? He wasn't sure. Until now.

A flood of relief spills out, surprising him with how happy he is that she's coming. He tilts his head back, remembering those blissful memories. Then the sight of him and his soon-to-be wife in a photo pulls him out of the reverie.

What was she thinking? What was he thinking? This could be a total disaster. No, this will be a complete disaster.

He rubs his eyes, suddenly not so ready to get up and face the world. His lack of sleep pushes his eyelids down, and he's hoping to dream of an answer. (Then again, the last time he hoped, the girl of his dreams ran away, never to be seen by him again.)

No, he doesn't care for time right now. All he cares right now is to remember a story of two. August Newman and Delta Hathaway. Reunited in the prime of their naivety and innocence.