How Do I Love Thee?

Not The Usual

A good nights sleep was all I needed. That was it. I was already going clinically insane and I'd only been here for less than a month. There was no boy talking to me. A boy with an amazing face, luscious hair, perfect smile, piercing eyes... STOP! Just sleep. I laid in bed and tossed and turned. Ugh! Why was I thinking about him? He was just another boy.

I got up out of bed and walked over to my desk. My roommate was out so I had the room to myself. I switched on my lamp and began typing on my computer again. Nothing happened. I couldn't think of anything to write. I sighed and put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I slipped on my sandals, grabbed my bag and headed out the door.

I walked towards the fountain, it was changing colors from blue to green to pink. I sat on a bench and watched it for a while. I zoned out, letting my mind wander. I was sort of an outcast in high school. I was the one who believed in supernatural creatures. But not just that. Yeah, I guess I was pretty but I never showed it. I was a Tom boy when I was younger and a book worm as I got older.

I was never popular, but that didn't bother me. I had a few friends, most of which I don't talk to ever since we all went to different schools. I was in a daze, thinking of the past when Ian Hollingsworth sat beside me.

"I was rude earlier, when I said you were better at writing." He smiled and I lost my head for a moment. I got it back just in time to respond.

"No it's true. I've never been able to draw." I looked down at my hands in my lap. This man had to be a figment of my imagination. "I'm a fashion major."

"But you don't like it?" He said, sounding confused.

I chuckled a little. "No. It's mostly what my dad wants me to be, he wants me to follow in my moms footsteps." I sighed, why was I so open to him?

"Oh I see. I've seen many young women like you, wanting to please their father." He said this as if he was tired of it.

I gave him a look. "It's my father. Of course I want to please him. Doesn't every child?"

"Nope. I never did. But then again I never knew my father, ran off before I was born." He didn't seem to care in the least.

"My mother ran off when I was young too. I don't remember her, but my dad does and wants me to be just like her."

For some reason it was nice to have someone to talk to who understood. No one from my hometown understood what it was like. When I was only a few months old my mother became a famous designer and ran off, leaving me and my dad on our own. But this guy, Ian Hollingsworth, he understood. He grew up with only one parent. We sat there for hours just talking, until me and him both yawned and decided it was time to go our own ways.