The Other Girl

Chapter XII

"How is it possible that, with all of these hot bods being thrown at you, you're still unaffected?" Stacey asked for the nth time, unable to comprehend how I wasn't heads-over-heels infatuated with a boy during the second half of senior year.

"Maybe I'm just not ready for love yet, Stace," I'd told her flippantly, rolling my eyes. I mean, I'm not the only single at the table.

"Yet," Stacey had muttered ominously. I laughed it off at the time, too caught up in the swirl of life to put much thought into her observation.

At that time, uni seemed so distant, so far off that marriage was unthinkable. College apps weren't a problem since everyone was applying to the same private institute, but there were also majors and minors to be considered, passions to be pursued and discontinued. The vague, intangible problem of finding 'love' amidst responsibilities and decisions seemed so small, so unimportant.

My own parents had met in university—my father a talented pre-med, my mother a driven pre-business. They'd been in the same circle for years but had both been to focused on their futures to pursue relationships.

"It was at the library one windy March day, and I was entering the library, hair askew from the gusts. Michael saw me, and—he told me I was beautiful," my mother had reminisced as I forced a smile and kept quiet, trying not to cringe as she continued the story of her life. "He surprised me, you know? The golden boy looked down from his marble-pillared balcony to see a cousin of a suitor and fell in love with her.

"I suppose it doesn't look that way now," she conceded, her gaze swimming in the past as she stared blankly outside the kitchen window. "But once upon a time, we'd been the prince and the pauper; Michael Reyes, the desirable of the class though youngest of his family, and Sheila Royce, the dark horse relative of the Royce line of princes and princesses. But there we were, falling in love."

I'd never pegged my mother for a romantic, but I suppose everyone has their downfalls. She'd been young and innocent then, striving for a different future, and my father's love had come as a surprise. Her years in the business world had hardened her mind to sentimentality, but the past was always able to soften her heart.

I suppose, in a way, I'm looking for the same gust of wind to blow through my hair, ruffling the strands enough that I would recognize the one I was waiting for.

True love—how silly, how hopeless, how dear.

---

We celebrated Quinn's 21st birthday on the 21st of March and yes, the theme was the number 21. There were 21 cupcakes, 21 donuts, and 21 shots for whoever wanted to take up the challenge and, well, I never claimed to have the smartest friends that were conscious of Monday-morning hangovers.

Quinn's birthday itself was less than spectacular—not because it wasn't the focus of the party but because the key figure, Timothy Sorenson, wasn't present.

'can't make it- smth came up, sorry!' Was the message Quinn received a hour or so in. We—the girls—had wanted to pair the two together in the amusement park we spent the majority of the afternoon at, but the plan went into the can with Tim's absence.

"Not even the merry-go-around," Karen had noted, sighing sadly before putting up a smile for Quinn—smiling equally as hard.

Quinn grinned through the day, but—as Whitney pointed out—she was always the one to hide her pain until our heads were turned. I don't know how Time's absence impacted his image in her eyes, but I can only hope for the best. After all, there are other fish in the sea...

On the note of downhill relationships, rumour has it that Chad hooked up with a "Tina" during the second week of school. Stacey declined to discuss it, but she hadn't talked to Chad either. The two seemed to be ignoring each other—we haven't gone out for lunch with the boys for nearly a week. Karen stopped me the other day and we decided to have a sit-down with each of them—separately, of course.