If it's Meant to Be

Chapter One

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I began reading love stories at the age of eleven.

I stopped at nineteen.

I told myself that I grew out of them. I told others the same, brushing it aside like it was to be a given. "They're child's play" I'd say, "too trivial for my current liking" I'd insist with a dismissive hand wave. And maybe it's the rolled up blunt I am currently inhaling that is persuading me to be introspective or maybe it's merely that I am at an engagement party right now and it's causing me to ponder on my own life but..

No, it's definitely the high, I hastily confirmed, gently dangling my feet off the elevated terrace as I sat on the edge, feeling as though I was floating before letting out a muffled laugh

What was I saying? Oh right..

Bullshit. I didn't stop because I became too 'intellectual' for it. I stopped because they made me bitter. Foolishly, I'd soak up all that would leak from the pages like a sponge and rather than wringing it out and coming back to reality, I desperately clung. Anticlimactically and without warning, it began to act as an anchor sinking me deeper into the lost sea, serving as a reminder of all that could not be, only exacerbating real life.

So, I stopped. I instead directed my focus elsewhere. Science, medicine, the solar system, hell, even the stock market. Just anywhere else. And sure, while they don't evoke much emotional response out of me and are quite derivative, I much prefer it like so. In lieu, I am exercising my brain, I am remaining on top of current events, I am becoming educated. That's far better than getting hurt over a slew of stories my mind stubbornly manifests, influenced by those cliche writings.

My mind is far too creative, I mumbled with disdain, my mouth coinciding with my thoughts, before inhaling another puff of smoke, letting it burn in my chest before exhaling, the heavy scent of marijuana thickening the hot air.

"That makes two of us"

The abrupt voice caused me to jump a little before I swiftly turned my head to the figure leaning against the corridor

"You scared me" I said breathlessly, my right hand flying to my chest, feeling and hearing my heart thump while he gave me a guilty grin in response

"Sorry, wasn't my intention" he stated, digging his hands into his pockets, looking at me through hooded eyes.

I didn't know whether I was grateful for the stranger cutting my train of thought or annoyed for the sudden interval but before I could even make up my mind, he pushed himself off the glass corridor and began to walk towards me.

Definitely annoyed, I affirmed, redirecting my gaze from him to the skyline hoping he might get the cue that I wasn't in a socializing mood.

" I don't know if you remember me but we spoke roughly a year ago via Tinder" he mentioned nonchalantly, either ignoring my subtle hints or completely oblivious of them, before I could feel him positioning himself next to me

I felt my face grow warm at the mention of Tinder, embarrassed of ever having downloaded the app before my brain had fully processed what he had said.

We know each other?

I turned to face him only to see that he was already looking at me, his sapphire eyes scanning my face for a reaction yet I'm quite certain I just looked high and discombobulated

I tilted my head to the side slightly, scrutinizing his face, seeing as to whether I could recall him from my memory though the minute my eyes met with his, I knew I did not. And if I were to be completely honest, I wasn't too surprised that I didn't.