Love Me Tender

Chapter 1: Sure

At seventeen years old, there were only three things I was absolutely sure of - that my hair was brown and curly, that my eyes were the same color as the water in the Gulf of Mexico, and that my lips were too full to compliment my thin, plain features. I was slightly unsure of two things - that God was real and that Gossip Girl was Georgina Sparks. And I was completely clueless about one thing - love.

How did love work? How could anyone love anyone else when they knew in the end it would be over in a flash of heartbreak and intolerable pain? Losing someone is the same every way you look at it, whether they're dead or alive. Part of you goes with them.
And that's what I was thinking about while I was standing in my shower. Well, actually I was sitting. On the floor.

At eight o'clock in the morning on a Thursday in November, I was going through my normal routine to prepare for school. Most people sing in the shower... I sleep. But only because eight o'clock is way too early to make teenagers wake up!

I yawned one more time, stuck my face in the hot water, and took a deep breath as I pulled myself up using the ledge of the tub. Brace yourself, I thought to myself as I quickly shut off the warm water. One more deep breath, trying to delay the inevitable, but knowing that it's impossible. As soon as I opened the shower curtain - the barrier between me and cold the frigid air - I would probably enter the early stages of hypothermia because Mom was set on having the house at a freezing 66 degrees Fahrenheit 365 days a year. Crazy bitch.

Quick as lightning, I flung open the shower curtain as I grabbed a towel from the rack and tucked it under my arms, grabbed another, and threw my hair into the ugly, sloppy, turban-like hat that every girl uses to keep her wet hair from dripping. And faster than a blink I sprinted from the almost warm bathroom and to my room, which was inconveniently located at the other end of a long hallway.

"AHH! So cold!" I screeched as I ran. I could hear my mother's melodious laughter coming from the kitchen, where she was no doubt making a disgusting breakfast. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated her effort, but after nine years you would think the lady could learn to make a decent omelette or even just some unburned toast.

But it was the thought that counted. And other than her total lack of culinary skills, she was the most amazing mom I could ask for.
I ran into my room and shut the door quickly behind me as I turned on the wanna-be fireplace - it was really just a fancy space heater.
Ding ding! the familiar sound of my phone alerted me that I had a new text message. Nicole. As always.