Remember This

Ch. 3

"Maybe life isn't about avoiding bruises, but collecting the scars." 

Ted Mosby once said, "when it's after 2am, just go to sleep because the decisions you make after 2am are the wrong decisions." In short, nothing good happens after 2am. And in theory, he should be right. If you're an avid How I Met Your Mother watcher, like myself, you'd know there is some truth to it. 

Here I am, it's 2am, and I should be sleeping. But Anna was 'entertaining' a suitor in our apartment. And occupying the living room. I could have went to my bedroom, but truth is, I was too scared to go home to catch her in a compromising position. 

So I texted her to tell me when they retreated into her room, so I could come home. 

Until then, I am sat in a half-vacant iHop, attached to a hot cup of coffee, a plate of pancakes and my laptop. I'm researching for an internship. The one I want is at one of the best firms in the city, and to get in I have to boost my resume as much as possible. Having a part time job is helping, but it looks good to have an internship under my belt to get into Law School. 

"Little one," I hear behind me, shaking me from my thoughts. I peer up to see Issac standing there, with a stupid grin plastered across his smug face. 

"Are you stalking me?" I ask.

"You wish. I was on my way home from somewhere and wanted some food. There's not a lot of options this late." He shrugs. 

"Not convinced that you're not stalking me, but I'll take that answer." I joke. 

"What's your excuse?" He says as he takes the seat across from me. 

"Sleep is for the weak." I laugh, "just kidding. My roommate has uh-company over and I didn't wanna be around." 

"Ah, the ole- sock on the door move." 

"For your information, in our house it's a purple scrunchie." 

"I don't understand how you're an adult." 

"Hey! That's not nice." I protest, burrowing my brows at him. 

"You literally have unicorn stickers on your laptop," he points out. 

In the midst of the banter, I recognize something about him. He's different. The few times I've seen him at work, he was in a black polo and khakis. But now, he has on a hoodie and sweatpants. This wouldn't look to out of the ordinary, if it wasn't for the fact his knuckles where basically ripped and callused over. Like he'd been fighting. And he has a tiny open cut above his eyebrow. 

"You okay?" I ask, breaking his teasing of me. 

"Uh-yeah. I'm ight. Why do you ask?" 

"You got a cut above your eye," I point out. 

He shifted uncomfortably, and I could tell whatever was going to come out of his mouth was going to be a lie. "Uh- I hit my head on my kitchen cabinet." 

There it was, the lie. "Hmmmh, I'm sure you did." I nod. 

"Why would I lie to you?" 

"Because you don't wanna tell me the truth. It's okay, you don't have too. I respect that. I mean we barely know each other." I said. 

"You're right, I'm sitting here with a complete stranger. So you gonna tell me more about yourself?" The devilish smile that laid across his face almost made me retreat back into my old shell I used to be in. 

God, he's so attractive. 

"I'm 21." 

"I already know that you loser. Tell me something I don't know," he rolls his eye's.