The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter three

 ~~~~

Dedicated to RealisticWriting for the amazing banner. Thank you!

~~~~

*Actual chapter three. Once again, sorry guys*

I didn't go back to the café for the next week.

            One of the reasons was because I was snowed under with work from classes—doing essays, extra-curriculas and any other homework my professor assigned me before Christmas break arrived—and the other half was because I didn't think I could handle going there and saying no to him again.

            My mother once told me what it had been like the first time she met my father. There had been instant sparks, butterflies and fireworks. She'd been reduced to this embarrassing babbling mess, and that was when she knew she was in love. And look where she had ended up; depressed and alone on minimum wage looking after her broken-hearted teenage daughter.

            So far, I had the sparks and butterflies and fireworks. And there was no way that I would end up like my mother. So I stayed away as much as I could, even when I was craving their macchiato. I never saw him on campus, and Ava thankfully didn't mention him. She knew my no-dating rule, and she was being a good friend and adhering to it. That was one thing I loved about Ava; she didn't butt in. She let me make my own decisions, and she knew I was capable enough to do that.

            "Hey, I'm going out with Rose," Ava said Saturday morning, grabbing her coat off of the rack and wrapping it around herself. The weather had gotten colder as Christmas break neared. It wasn't snowing yet, but the sun did nothing to alleviate the cold, and the sky looked permanently washed-out. For once, it was actually chilly, which was strange for Florida. "Wanna come?"

            "Oh, no thanks," I replied, looking up from where I was writing my first draft of an essay on layout and aesthetics. "I have to get this draft done. It's due Tuesday and it's a thousand word essay."

            She grimaced. "Oh. Well, have fun with that, I guess."

            "Oh, for sure," I replied sarcastically. "It should be a breeze."

            She left soon after, and I bent over the table, busily scribbling down as much as I could. At about midday, I stopped for a snack break, which consisted of a canned soda and a peanut butter sandwich. Then I set back to work for another few hours, until my first draft was completed.

            It was around about that time the knock on the door sounded. I stifled a yawn. "One second!"

            I drained the rest of my soda and threw it into the trashcan, before shutting the lid of my laptop and hopping off of the bench stool. I walked over to the door, and threw it open with a welcoming smile to whoever was outside.

            I was not expecting it to be Chance, holding two paper shopping bags and a large smile.

            "Chance," I said, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

            "Well, I ran into Ava the other day at the café, and she mentioned the flowers I got you," he replied, bustling past me and into the apartment. He walked straight to the kitchen and placed down the bags. I shut the door, a look of surprise on my face, and spun towards him. "We got to talking, and she said some things."