A Guide To Becoming A Teenage Hipster

Step [13]: Summer Time/Winter Timer

CHAPTER 13: WE MIGHT BE HOLLOW, BUT WERE BRAVE

THE WIND SWEEPS across my face, cooling my flaming cheeks and gently blowing my hair from my neck. Heaving a sigh of immense relief, I step out of the tiny, yet ridiculously expensive coffee joint wiping my hands on my pencil skirt again; wiping away the nervous beads of sweat.

I didn't really know how it happened, how I got this opportunity.

When Mr. Waterford had provided me with the aspect of leaving Winthrop College and douche-bag-swimmer, I had taken it. I had called him up the very next day and told him yes. Yes, I would like to join any university that Mr. Waterford offered to me. Patrick had been with me that time, and when I used to sit in my room for most of my holiday; licking my wounds, I would be surprised to see him sitting there at my kitchen table, maybe reading something, eating or just waiting. Waiting for me to go back to the way I was. The old Cinta. Even when Mr. Waterford introduced me to Willeton University, a highly competitive college with Winthrop College, I had been surprised when he tagged along, shadowing my every move. During my tour I had been paranoid as to why every second person was shooting me lingering stares, and even went to the extent of contemplating if douche-bag-swimmer had bitched about me back at Winthrop and now this gossip was been spread around my new college. I had been wrong, and it took me a few minutes to realize that they were not staring at me, but the golden hunk behind me.

It was only then when I stopped and looked at Patrick, did I realize what a beautiful creature he was. I took in his clear light blue eyes that stared at me in curiosity, watched as his full pink lips parted as he asked me why I had stopped. Gazed at his strong build and veiny arms, his tall stature and how good-looking he really was. I basically had a beautiful man chase after me ever since I was in Winthrop, but as always I hadn't been interested because of douche-bag-swimmer.

"Why was he here?" I had wondered. "After all this time, I had practically ignored him for the past two week's and yet here he is. Still here."

And he was still here. Every day I had woken up at college, not bothering to call him because I was positive he had found some bird back in Winthrop, but every weekend I would go visit Willeton's football arena, like he had instructed me to, and every time I was shocked to see him standing there. Waiting for me. Patrick.

Soon I stopped ignoring him. And trust me, I ignored him for a long time. I would turn up at the arena but not respond to any of his questions, just sit next to him for hours. He apparently did not mind this, and soon stopped asking me questions. He would just sit there next to me, looking out at the huge football field which was light up beautifully by the many flood lights. When after a few weeks, I had finally asked him a question and tried to start a conversation, he had turned his beautiful blue eyes on me, staring at me in shock. When after a few months, I had nervously tangled my hand within his, he had gripped onto my palm with so much intensity. Almost like he was telling me that he wasn't going to let go of it. Now or ever.

We were never a couple, yet when I was asked at the few dances and parties I went to whether I was available, I would automatically respond no. No, I wasn't. On the day I graduated, which was two years ago, I had been with Patrick for three and a half years, yet I was not his girlfriend, nor he my boyfriend. He had kissed me before, of course. He had fought with me, got jealous of some character who was interested in me and even cried with me when his mother died of breast cancer.

I wasn't in love with him. Patrick I mean. I was very fond of him, but I had forgotten what love is. "What exactly is love?" I would question myself every night as I lay on my bunk bed which I shared with a normal girl who studied and partied. I didn't know what love is, and I couldn't distinguish desire and attraction over it. So I never told myself I was in love with Patrick, and I definitely never told him I loved him. On the day I received my graduating certificate, my eyes had flitted to my father and Mr Waterford, sitting side by side, grinning and clapping as loud as they could. I had smiled and looked for Pat, but couldn't find him. Where was he? He had called me the day before, telling me that he was driving from Winthrop to Willeton and that he'll see me there, but where was he?