Matches

Chapter Two

'kay, it's Friday night and I'm right outside the house that Jess dropped us off at. It was an off-campus house, where eighteen-year-olds are allowed to smoke and drink without any trouble.

I replied in advance to Jess, and she didn't hesitate to scream in excitement about how she finally got me out of the house. She's mostly excited because even though we occasionally hung outside of work before, this is our first party together. Not knowing what to wear, I wore my usual baggy, black hoodie and jeans with a red long-sleeve underneath. I felt out of place as I observed the girls in crop tops and mini dresses. It always amazes me how they're able to get out of the house, knowing that it's below ten degrees outside. These girls are immortal; can't they feel iciness on their toes as they walked with open-toed, high heels? I'm probably envious because even though I lived in New York my whole life, I can't do the same without shivering. Or, that I can't stand to be anything higher than my converse. Yet I can't say they're not pretty.

In comparison to the house parties at my college, this is not a little gathering at all. Somehow Jess and I avoided bumping into anyone as we got inside the house. I ignored the sexual atmosphere as I went straight to the punch bowl. After pouring myself a giant spoonful of the juice, I gulped it down as if it were the blood of Christ, not caring if it was spiked or not. My options in drinks at my local house parties have always been either water or soda as drinking has never been in my agenda. Tonight's an exception since I could tell I needed a loose screw to get through tonight. That theory was confirmed as my eyes wandered all over the place and somehow nailed my vision on him.

Justin Webb, a boy who's only a couple of months older than me. We met last year when we moved into Butler Hall at the same time. I looked like a dork with my hair in a messy bun and my glasses nearly slipping off my pale face as I carried a heavy box into the dorm hall. However, he smiled at me as he grabbed my box to help me. Since then we've bumped into each other a lot, the rest was history. He was the first guy I ever fell in love with as I have only dated a couple of bums in high school. I was heartbroken when he cut things off.

Now he's holding hands with another girl. The same girl I spotted with him on his social media page lately. I believe she's the same girl he left me for. But I can't be sure as they're just theories since my only proof was how soon she appeared on his Facebook. How can he move on so quickly? Just leave me, knowing how much I loved him! Ugh, that douchebag! She's a pretty girl, too!

She stood tall in her silver stilettos. Her long, blonde hair matched his and is a contrast from my original, dark brown hair. I dyed it the week after we broke up as I felt the need to rebrand myself with a change of appearance. The hairdresser thought it was a little drastic at first, but shrugged when she realized the money she would get out of it. Her bright eyes also contrasted my dark ones. She looked super sexy in her tight, white tank top, while I felt like a bag of potatoes with this hoodie on. Come to think of it, this is the second time I wore it this week. I can't let him see me.

In a sudden need for a toilet, I scurried around the party in search of one. Once I located one, I locked the door behind me, unbothered to turn on the lights. After I put the drink on the cold, tiled floor, my hands went immediately to my face.

"I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry." I thought.

Unfortunately, my emotions disobeyed my thoughts; mascara ran down my cheeks. I licked my salty tears as they ran by my lips. Justin was just a boy in a sea of 7.5 billion people on earth yet it was so hard for me to see him with another girl. How could he do that to me? Is it a crime to still view him as my boy? To think I was over him was an overestimation. I felt pathetic as I ran a sleeve under my nose. This is probably why he left me. Somehow I stumbled a bit which made my drink spill all over the floor, dousing the tiled floor under me.