I awoke the next morning with a sick feeling building in the bottom of my stomach. Fuck. Am I gonna hurl?
I thought about my options before dashing to the bathroom, sticking my face over the toilet bowl just in time.
Nice.
Suddenly, my memories of the previous night came flooding back, (as did another load of vomit). What if she doesn't come? What if I do something wrong? What if she doesn't like me?
Answerless questions flew around my head and I spewed again. How is this girl having such an effect on me?
After cleaning myself up and showering, I decided to face the day. After all, if I never took chances, I'd never know the outcome- would I?
Now... what to wear...
I opened my wardrobe and sighed at the disorganised mess. Well this is going to be fun.
Picking out an oversized sweater, a pair of skinny jeans and a pair of fluffy socks, I quickly dressed and brushed my hair: this might not mean anything to her but I want to at least look somewhat presentable.
Quickly checking the time, I saw that I had twenty minutes at the most to get there. Shit. So I ran downstairs and put on my 'lesbian boots', smirking to myself at the thought. If she didn't get the hint before, she will now.
As an afterthought, I threw on my scarf before shouting to my mum, "I'M GOING OUT. CALL ME IF YOU WANT ME".
I let myself out, feeling the brisk morning air on my cheeks. Without the support of the four walls and a roof I call home, I felt vulnerable- the thoughts of her standing me up and making a joke of me trickling back into my thoughts.
Nope. I just had to breathe. Calm down. I'll never know if I don't give her a chance. Who knows? This could be the best day of my life.
