Carolina and The Fan Non-fiction | H.S

Twelve

And they never meet again.

He never calls her nor does she. They never look for each other on phonebooks or reach out to possible mutual friends. He never flies back to London for her, nor does she fly to Los Angeles for him.

And the truth is, she felt like it's alright. Because while it was romantic, there was really nothing else to hold on to. They are merely two strangers who ended up spending time together in a beautiful place. They're not exes who saw each other again and were still in love. But also, they're probably not two people who were destined to see each other for the first time and fall in love at once.

Real romance is just like that. Sometimes it happens overnight. And sometimes, no love grows so that romance can hold on tight. Sometimes you can feel romantic for someone but not love them enough to stay.

Sometimes your path crosses another person's only once. Like perpendicular lines. But even so, it doesn't mean it cannot be special or romantic.

To them that's the most important thing, that it was special and it's all it will be.

○ ○ ○

"Vivien," he said, clearing his throat, "this is heartbreaking."

My face falls as worry brings my heart to pump faster. The terrible ways in which today could turn into ran across my head. I've imagined his expression of disappointment in my mind so many times just so that I could prepare.

"I meant it in complimentary way," he defined and the pace of my heart slows down.

"Thank you," I replied.

"This story has potential for publication Vivien," Professor Eldrige spoke, making my heart pump harder again, this time for positive reasons. "I like that you kept the reader on edge, but in a way that makes them think there is a happy ending to this. And then you come abruptly with a slap from reality. It leaves a heavy impression that a reader will surely take with them after reading. Just a little more meat in the ending I guess, but this is already great as it is. It's a fresh take on romance definitely."

"I appreciate that a lot," I repeated.

"Think about the opportunities Ms. Townes," he said, "After minor edits you can add this to your application for internships and jobs."

I smile, "Will do Mr. Eldridge." I stood up before mumbling another, "Thank you," upon not finding any other synonym to express my gratefulness.

I stand up from the chair beside his desk and walk back to my seat as he calls out another student. I let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling every bit of stress depart my body. I feel my chest tighten as it tried to suppress a victorious squeal from coming out.

I lay the extra printout of my story on my table as I fumble with my backpack to check the time on my phone.

16:30

The class is almost up.

I put my phone back and lean against my chair.

"What did he say?" Bryon said, turning herself towards me.

"Oh, he liked it," I replied briefly.

"That's it?" she asked. "He looked like he was reading Hemingway or Wilde."

"I guess you could say that," I gave in, "he loved yours very much too."

She flashed a humble smile which outlined her cheekbones.

I always admired the innocent grace of her face. It's very warm and it's what drew me to becoming just a tad more comfortable around her. Bryon and I met at fresher's week and had a casual dialogue about moving to London, she was from Ireland. From then, we always had brief conversations in the hallway or in this one class we share.