that “Knock Knock. Who’s there? To. To who? Jeez, Mom, don’t you know anything? It’s to whom !” joke on her. I read a bit too, but not as much as I would want. I’m mostly into English so I can criticize people’s grammar and “lack of eloquent word choice” whenever possible.
Anyway, worrying about Harper and how our meet-up will go keeps me well occupied throughout the entire day. I don’t think I could name one thing we did in any of the classes.
Finally, after what feels like a century, the last class ends. As soon as the teacher dismisses us, I dart out the door, grab my bag, and race down the hall toward the school entrance.
My pulse quickens. Holy shit. I finally get to meet Harper.
“Where are you going?” Cat calls after me, but I just wave my hand and say, “A meeting.” Technically it isn’t a lie, although it isn’t much by way of honesty either. But really, I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea of Cat knowing about Harper. I don’t know why, I just want to keep it, like with my vlog, separate from her.
As soon as I burst through the front doors of the school, I run down to the parking lot, hop into Dad’s car, and drive probably too fast down to the coffee shop. When I pull into the parking lot of the shop a few minutes later, all of my emotion seems to crash down on me at once. I’m really doing this, I realize, gripping the steering wheel too hard. Four months of waiting and I’m finally meeting Harper.
Again, I repeat: h oly shit.
Slowly, I get out of the car and cool air blasts me from all around. I straighten up, taking a breath. Then, with my eyes locked on the coffee shop door, I start walking to the girl of my dreams.
My pulse is pounding as I approach, and each step, each crunch of leaves underfoot, makes my ears ring and makes my whole body get tenser and tenser. I’m going to meet Harper , I tell myself. Oh my god oh my god I’m seriously going to meet her. In that instant everything that could possibly go wrong seems to race my through my head, and my heart keeps on thudding, thudding, thudding. What if she decides I’m too awkward for her? What if she hates me? What if she takes one look at me, laughs, and walks out? What if I screw up my one shot with her like I have everything else in my life?
I shake my head, trying to push away the bad thoughts because this is supposed to be a happy time, but they just keep coming back.
Above me, the sky is cloudy, and it looks vaguely like it’s going to rain. There are a few picnic tables bordering the pathway leading to the coffee shop, one of which is occupied by an elderly man reading a trashy romance novel. I grimace. There is something utterly terrifying about an old man reading those kinds of books. I half-expect him to turn out to be Harper in pedophilic form.
When I reach the old coffee shop door, I t ake one final breath, pull open the brass knob, and step inside, my heart pounding furiously, my mind racing with the possibilities, knowing that there is a good chance I’m about to meet Harper.
And… nothing.
I scan the coffee shop with my hands completely clenched, but aside from a bored-looking cashier and a twenty-something couple feeding each other marshmallows and giggling in a totally non-discreet romantic way, the place is empty. My stomach drops a little and I can feel the disappointment creep in already. I mean, I’m five minutes early, but I still hoped… that I could see her now, I guess. See her for real. Hoped I would not have to worry, to wait any longer for her.
I just want to talk to her already, face to face, so I can tell her how I really feel, so I can finally get it out. And yeah, I obviously want her to feel about me as I feel about her, but even if she doesn’t, just loving her is gift enough. She could hate me, she could run away and never come back and even though I’d be hurt, even though I’d spend my nights crying and lying awake thinking about her, it will all have been worth