Scarlett
The remainder of the week has flown by, partially due to the fact that none of the classes I'm in actually had us do any work. In every class, syllabi had been given out and once professors had gone over them, they gave us the rest of the time to "meet and make friends with our peers." This isn't elementary school. I'm not going into debt to just "make friends." Get on with the lecture.
Of course for me, "meet and make friends with your peers," was code for "ignore everyone and text my best friend Angel and talk shit." The only class I didn't do that in was PSYCH 100 because lucky for me Ricki's in that class too. I'll probably try to be a little more social to my peers in the coming weeks when I finally realize that I can't go the whole year ignoring them. I'm going to need to borrow notes eventually.
Speaking of peers, last night I finally decided to text Lucas since he never followed through on making plans for when we could meet and work on this project together. I asked him if he was down for meeting me in the morning around 10 at this little park I found called Piers Park. I expected a lot of flirting before I got him to agree to meet me, but instead I was met with a simple one-word answer of "Sure," that came suspiciously late last night (or early this morning.) I should have taken that as a sign. Lucas hasn't shown face yet and it's almost noon. I'm giving him until exactly 12 before I take my ass back to the dorms. I've been sitting on this bench for two freaking hours waiting on this boy.
At first, I wasn't upset. People are late all the time so I just used the extra "me" time to take in the beauty around me. The sun's out, the birds are harmonizing, and the water is lapping up the side of the cement that's keeping this part of the park from being in the harbor. I can sit out in the sun and listen to nature's soundtrack all day and be perfectly content.
Or so I thought.
After the first 45 minutes, I started texting him and then texting turned to calling. Every text and call was met with radio silence.
This just pisses me off. If he's going to be late or not show up he should at least tell me so I don't spend my entire Saturday morning waiting for him. At this point, his only excuse that wouldn't result in me losing my shit is that he was abducted and probed by aliens that wanted to study privileged white men. Anything less than that and I'm going to have to go off on him for allowing me to sit out here for two hours with multiple versions of the most ridiculous love story ever created and a notebook full of ideas I jotted down last night waiting for him to reply.
Once my phone hits noon, I come to the conclusion that Lucas isn't coming. I stand up and stretch my limbs out before they fall asleep fully. I'm pissed not only at Lucas for standing me up but at myself for sitting out here for two hours, really expecting him to show up. I should have left after the first 30 minutes. I really played myself over a guy. Fuming, I snatch up all the book. I need a way to burn off all this anger so I decide to run.
I take off but before I can even get more than a few feet away from the bench I smack into a wall of pure muscle. I can't catch my balance quick and I fall on my ass, my head barely missing the concrete thanks to my quick "not wanting a concussion" reflexes. Pain radiates through my body and I'm afraid that I may have broken something. If it wasn't for the pain, I'd be mortified that I just busted my ass in public.
Satan is really working hard today.
"Oh shit Scarlett! Are you okay?" The wall of muscle asks, the familiar voice full of concern. I still haven't open my eyes yet from instinctively closing them when I started falling. I'm pretty sure it's Lucas and all that pent up anger that I was planning on releasing on him when I saw him has been replaced by excruciating pain. I groan in response to his question. I feel him trying to help me up and I swat his hand away.
