Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious athletes, and a girl that yearns for a boy that she can't have.
Sage Williams is the girl that nobody had noticed in high school. She was the youngest out of her siblings. S...
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Sage Williams
Life for the first time in two years was good.
I had a genuine smile on my face; every comment I made back to someone trying to speak to me wasn't sarcastic or pessimistic. I held my head high, no matter how many times I had a voice in the back of my head. I only cried at the things that made me happy– but no matter how hard I tried, I still was trying to grasp the concept that Rory was basically being held like a prisoner to her dad.
But, life overall was good.
On Monday we had our mediocre art class.
"Give me your bag or I'm going to push you out of your treehouse the next time we are up there together." My heart clenched as I heard him walk up beside me on my way to class. I giggled as I turned my head slightly to stare up at him.
He held his arm out, waiting for my bag to slide off of my shoulders and into his awaiting arms. "Good morning." I teased and instead of placing my bag in his hand, I placed my hand there. He froze in his steps, smiling at where our hands connected before shaking his head and continuing to walk. However, I'm sure that if he wanted to, he would have stared at our hands together all day long if it weren't for me pulling him.
"Does my girlfriend want to stop on our way to class and get coffee?" He asked.
I bit my lip and continued walking, our arms swinging together. "I don't like coffee." I answered.
He coughed out a laugh. "You don't like coffee? Since when don't you like coffee? I tried to hand you a tea a month ago and you said you liked coffee now?" He questioned. However, we continued walking– I of course with his generous offer pulled him toward the local coffee roaster.
"I like tea," I responded.
Truth is, I don't like coffee. I never had.
But– I didn't like my contacts either. Or the short skirts. Or walking in the grass. Or eating meat.
I just fixated on doing everything I didn't like when I was with him because maybe he'd find something in me that he hadn't before. Maybe he wanted a girl with glasses and he wanted a girl that wore skirts– a girl that had her nails done and were always dirty.
