"Every girl wants you to be her man
But I'll wait right here till it's my turn
I'm not the kinda girl who gives up just like that"
- Atomic Kitten, 'Tide is High'
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Squash.
Pumpkin.
Freakin' gourd.
I seriously should have reconsidered everything about my grand idea of meeting Louis. Because, really, I don't know why I thought that I could pull any of that off. Oh, wait, Ididn't think that I could pull any of that off. I knew that I couldn't pull any of that off.
But no, I decided to be Hunter, American Trailblazer, and go for it.
Louis told me to meet him at the park by his apartment. At first I thought that was kind of weird because it was cloudy, but it was also always cloudy where we lived so it wasn't like people stayed inside every time that it rained. Even though I knew people that had cars, I decided to take the bus. I'm actually a horrible driver. Well, I'm not that bad, but they do things backwards on the roads there and I didn't want to cause a massive pile-up on my way to Louis's.
As a product of being in a public school from kindergarten through senior year in high school, I can confidently say that I hate buses. They smell weird and there are the strangest people on them. Although I guess that I am being slightly biased, especially since it's not like I'm the most desired person to be around.
In my defense, though, I did look moderately human that day. I had braided my hair into a ponytail in an attempt to avoid a deadly outbreak of frizz and was wearing my navy-blue sundress with the brown rope-belt across my waist. Yes, I did look oddly like a sailor, but I would take that one with pride. The mascara that I had put on hadn't smeared yet and my chapstick wasn't doing that weird sticky thing that it sometimes did.
And, of course, the second that I stepped off the bus was when the shit started.
For one, it began raining.
Like, literally, the floodgates of Heaven had opened up and were pouring down upon us. And even though I sprinted the three steps off of the bus and under an awning, my hair was not salvageable. I had entered straight-up poodle territory.
Which, you know, would have been perfectly fine if I wasn't actually trying to have an adult conversation with someone. Or if I had that thin Eleanor hair that you could run a comb through and have it look normal within two seconds. I couldn't even comb my hair without risking another incident involving scissors and frozen Skittles. Really, just don't ask.
My dress was wet as well, but the denim jacket that I had on made up for it. And yes, I know that denim jackets aren't necessarily the epitome of cool, but it's not like I'm the epicenter of cool-dom either.
And you know why? Because I say squash like that.
Anyways, I stood under the side of the building to plot my next move. Did Louis still want to meet at the park even though it was raining? That seemed odd to me, but they did different things in England. Or was I supposed to call him? Or was calling too weird and I should text him? Or would it make more sense for me to wait for him to send me some form of communication expressing where he would like the two of us to meet?
