Crouch or Tiptoe

2

I strolled out of the restaurant confidently. At least, I think it was confidently. If only I could see myself right then.

I didn't bother crying. After the first hundred rejections, I was used to it. Honestly, crying because of this failed date would be a waste of water. All he was getting was a few of my favourite curse words whispered under my breath.

After taking the cab home, I flopped through my apartment door. Utter chaos greeted me, along with my completely crazy but sweet room-mate. Tracey and I were just two 21-year-old women, used to each other coming home exhausted from an evening of seeking love - and failing.

"Hi, babe," she greeted me at the door, wrapping her laughingly small 5"3 figure around my freakishly large one. "No luck?"

I shook my head, and looked down at her pointedly. It looked like she was trying her best not to jump to the ceiling. I smiled. It was always easy to tell when Tracey was excited. "For some reason I think you're having a better evening than me."

Tracey squealed. "I got a date!"

Trust me - for us, it was a huge deal.  Tracey was a cute height, and she was absolutely gorgeous, with flowing blonde locks and green eyes, but she had one problem. Despite being desperate for love, Trace was SAD. And no, I don't mean sad. I mean she had social anxiety disorder. And me....well, I doubt I need to explain.

"That's great!" I squealed with her, just to tease. "When? Is he tall? Short? What colour eyes?" I lowered myself down onto the couch.

Tracey smiled at me mysteriously. "You'll just have to wait." And then, not so mysteriously - "I invited them over. That's okay, right?" 

"Sure." Then I looked around the room. "Mmmm....you could do something about the mess..."

Trace nodded ecstatically, but before she could react, there was a knock at the door.