Torn

Chapter 1- Breathless

It's 6PM and I'm still nowhere near ready. Nerves are battering me, treating me like some sort of rag doll, but I don't know why. Sure, I've been nervous before, but not this nervous.

Standing in the centre of my dark-coloured room, my hands quiver even more as I reach for my belt, one that I had bought earlier. My hands shake so violently that I almost drop the chestnut garment. It takes more than words to calm myself down, but I get the process done, with enough time to sort out my hair, footwear and any other little things that I've forgotten. 

I've gone for the casual, yet smart look. Where the tuxedo may not be suitable, -given that I'm a 4th year student- a blazer and navy-dyed trousers is always a good look (These were the internet's words, not mine). 

With the final adjustments to my collar and tying up my shoelaces, a familiar chime of the door handle fills the silence I've been bearing. My mum happens to be at some conference that I really couldn't care about, and my dad's gone fishing with his friends. Being a single child doesn't have many drawbacks, surprisingly enough. It's actually quite luxurious, if you ask me. No extra problems to worry about if you have a load weighing on your shoulders. 

Opening the door, a well-known face dressed in a baggy snow-coloured shirt, brown polychrome trousers and cardigan, and chocolate-coloured boots is waiting for me. Evelyn Frances.

If you haven't already guessed, I'm going on a date with this very girl. And she isn't just a girl, I'll comment. To be corny, she's more than beautiful.

She's quite the Aryan, with golden wavy hair following to her waist and piercing ice-coloured eyes. She also acquires sun-kissed skin, her face dotted with freckles and is fairly tall. 

"Well, hello Sam."

Her tone is flat, yet intriguing. Sort of sultry, and seductive in a way. 

"Want to go?" I question, not as sexy as she had spoken, because I'm not that kind of guy. Well, I hope I'm not, because then I'd look like a right idiot.

"Sure." 

I take her hand and start to set a pace. It's more or less a stroll. We're heading towards a local café, because neither of us are the type to spend large portions of money on heavily expensive meals. Besides, we aren't exactly dressed for that sort of thing- You'd need more than a custom-made suit to look the part. And, well, I don't have the required funds. Besides, I'm pretty damn okay with my current clothes, not that I actually care about what I wear.

Well, I care to some extent.

It isn't too long before we arrive. It's only taken about 15 minutes to arrive, which isn't too long or too short. It seems like an ideal day for a date, at the weekend, when the sun is just setting, creating the awesome scenery when every colour on the spectrum collides and stains the sky, like as if it's all a painting. The weather is warm, with a slight breeze, my favourite kind. It's truly beautiful.

We pick a table that's next to the wall, the kind of wall that you can see out of but nobody can really see inside, which creates a decent amount of privacy due to the fact that the tables are separated at a reasonable distance. Where there might not be chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, plain light bulbs wearing assorted lamp shades take that spot. The floor might not have designer carpets plastered on them, but they are tiles, black and white-coloured tiles that lay there, not even disturbing the surroundings. The walls don't have rich wallpapers coating them, instead they've been painted with many layers of white paint, with the odd board taking up some significant space. And the tables- as you may expect, they're modern wooden ones, polished with some sort of protector. While it might not be everybody's taste for a date, it couldn't bother me or Evelyn any less.