4.00PM, Saturday, Nov. 30th
Central Park, New York
I bit my nail, and stared at the paper until the letters and words turned into mush in my brain.
My Senior Project, it said in big, black letters. The student picks a broad subject area that interests them. Examples are: Forestry, the History of Paper, Hydraulic Water Pumps…
The list went on. I looked down the list. None of it looked appealing to me. I mean, the history of paper? What kind of boring bastard was interested in paper?
Snow fell on my head when I plonked myself down under a tree, on a park bench. It probably looked like I had nasty dandruff right now, but whatever. I have way more important things to deal with. Like deciding on my Senior Project. I mean, I said to the senior advisor guy, I chosen Psychology, but I had no idea what to do –
“Incoming!”
I looked up, and a hard lump of squishy whiteness hit me right between my eyes, and I dropped my piece of paper into the snow.
“Oscar!” I screamed, wiping away the snow from my eyes. “You bastard!”
When I’d finally blinked away all the snow flakes from my eyelashes, a guy’s laughing face appeared. I hate him so much.
I ran up to Oscar, pushing him over into the snow
“You are so mean!” I yelled, emphasising every word with a punch to his chest. But it didn’t stop him from laughing.
“Your face!” he choked out, his eyes streaming. “It’s so funny!”
“I hate you!” I yelled, punching him harder.
“Slow down,” Oscar said, suddenly serious. “You can’t beat me up today. I got dumped.”
That definitely slowed me down.
“Again?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” he yelled, looking up at me. My heart thumped, like it always did, and I sat on down cross-legged in the snow. Oscar was just so…pretty. Not girly-pretty, but cute. His fringe fell over his eyes, which were a delicate hazel. And, okay, because he was my friend, I so shouldn’t be saying this, but he was yum. “She said something about how I was too distant, or something. What the hell does that mean?!”
I nibbled my lip, wondering how to phrase this. For someone so hot, Oscar seemed to have about a billion girl problems.
“Did you spend her birthday with her?” I said, deciding to go with the whole ‘rip-the-band-aid-off-quickly’ thing.
“No, but –”
“Did you go see her play?”
“No, I didn’t, but –”
“Did you see her, at all, in the last three weeks?”
“No, but I…oh. I get your point.”
“You do?” I said, smiling.
“Yeah. Still hurts, though.”
I gave him a hug, enjoying it immensely.
“You’ll get over it. There’s always another girl.”
He pulled me closer, giving me a quick kiss on my lips. “Is there?”
“Oscar!” I yelled, wiping my lip with my sleeve. Okay, I did kind of like it, but I will never, EVER let him know that. “What the hell?”
