Oh no. Oh no no no no no. My eyes are glued to my wrist, watching the numbers tick. For some reason, this pulsing makes my stomach churn.
I'm sweating; badly. Like a pig. My sister would be disappointed. "Ben," she would say. "Calm down. She's supposed to love you, and if she doesn't then it's her loss. Pull yourself together!"
I love my sister, but sometimes she's a real pain in the butt.
It's perfectly normal to be afraid, I remind myself. But it's true. I mean, she's probably some goddess, and I'll just dim her light with my plainness. I'm short, with brown hair, and glasses. Not extremely athletic, I like chess. Why would she like me?
But I know, somewhere deep down inside that she will. We were all raised with the philosophy that the person whose tattoo matched ours would love us forever. So it will end up okay. But I seriously don't want the first thing she notices about me to be my noticeable shaking or sweat stains.
00d 00h 00m 37s. Scared. Very scared. VERY, VERY, SCARED. Help, I can't do this. Starting to feel sick and lightheaded, I go over to the counter of the cafe and ask for a bottle of cold water.
"That'll be one dollar and sixty-four cents, sir." she smiles happily. Really happily. Small Asian girl, black shiny hair, a light blush on her tan cheeks, she's kind of pretty.
I fumble in my pockets for the money and finally find some. When the barista holds out her hand to accept the payment, I casually check her wrist. 00d 00h 00m 19s. I sigh, not her. My countdown is at eleven seconds.
With sweaty hands, I struggle to open the bottle.
Ten.
The condensation mixed with my nervous sweat causes me to drop the water.
Nine.
Bending down to pick it up, I see someone approach me in the distance.
Eight.
I look around again.
Seven.
The person running past me is a girl.
Six.
A pretty girl, with short brown hair and golden eyes.
Five.
She's turning around.
Four.
She's running back towards me.
Three.
Oh man, I think it's her...
Two.
It is! Her face is lit up with a dazzling smile and her tan skin glows in the sunlight.
One. She stops in front of me, breathless. Taking the water from my hands, she speaks. Her voice is light and airy. "Would you like some help with that?"
Zero.
My mind goes blank as my eyes roll back into my head and I hit the ground hard.
YOU ARE READING
Countdown To Love
Любовные романыImagine you were born with a tattoo that counted down the time until you met your soulmate. Just imagine knowing when your life would feel complete. Now stop imagining. It's become reality.
