10.

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I threw the fifth dress I found in my closet, on the floor. I was never anxious about my clothes before and always liked to put my things tidy and clean.

My clothes were nicely tucked away in different sections distributed by colors, patterns, and styles. However, I had tops and jeans in a significant number and a few mid-length dresses. And maybe one or two short summer dresses. But I don't know where I kept it. I never get any appropriate occasion to wear these. I scanned the rest of my closet to find any other option but none.

I couldn't call my cousin, Samantha, who knew the most about fashion and the proper way of dressing up for the occasion. I trust her but not enough to share my secrets.

Sighing at myself, I threw everything back in the closet and grabbed a basic t-shirt and jeans. I don't want him to feel like I'm trying hard to impress. Because I'm not. Or am I?

I grabbed my books and started to get on with my revisions and lessons. It was hard to focus on them when all you could think of was your first 'hang-out with a boy.

~~~~

 Dressed in basic dark grey jeans and horizontal black and white striped t-shirt, I walked into the ice cream parlor. I looked around to see if he arrived yet or not. But no sign of him. Maybe he forgot?

I tried to brush off my overthinking and sat at the empty table near the entrance. After a while, I took out my mobile and started doing digital art to get the time to pass faster.

It's been an hour, and still no sign of him or text. I have texted him multiple times now, but no answer. It's very unusual of him, but how much do I know about him? Maybe he just took revenge for rejecting him first.

As this thought continued to strangle my mind, my eyes started to burn. I looked around and saw all the tables had a pair or more people. I was the only one, alone, waiting for someone. I started to feel like they were all just looking at me and talking about me. They were making fun of me on how someone ditched me. I couldn't control it anymore, and the tear that's been pooling up in my eyes started to make its way down on my cheek.

I couldn't believe the audacity of him ditching me that way. I gathered my keys and picked up my mobile to get out of here. I left as unnoticeably as I could. But I could feel their eyes burning my back as I left the parlor.
Picking up the pace, I ran to my car and drove back to my place to hide from all the world. My first ever date never showed up.

I used to go to these types of parlors for a read. There were multiple times when a girl or sometimes a boy waited up this long and left without ordering anything. I used to judge them harshly on how they should confirm first and then come. Now I know how it feels to be ditched, and you cannot guarantee it and hope for them to show. I started to consider all of them who've been through this and for myself.

I can't control people, but I can control myself. I shake off all the embarrassment and sadness into an imaginary bin before changing into PJs and heading straight to bed.

What was I even thinking before doing anything like this? I didn't think about my mother and how she would react if she found out. I just did what my heart said. I wish I didn't.

Inhaling the air sharply and letting it out slowly. I relaxed my mind and promised myself never to do anything like this again. It was the first and last time.

~~~~

I woke up with a doorbell. I quickly checked the time, and it was one in the morning. Who could come at this time?

I rushed to the door and peeked through the window near it. It was none other than the guy who ditched me a few hours ago. I almost didn't want to open the door, but I couldn't leave it out as well. 

He rang the doorbell again. I sighed and slightly brushed my shirt with my hands and combed my hair with my fingers. I need to act cool and calm in front of him. He doesn't owe me anything at all. It was just nothing but a mistake. I am only his class fellow who gives him tuitions. We are not friends or whatsoever. 

It took me seconds to open the door with a big smile on my face.

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