Forever Young

I pulled my dress down and stumbled out of the car. I shoved down the door of the restaurant, flashing a quick apologetic smile to the restaurant patrons because I had just interrupted their relatively peaceful lunch. But, I was in a race against time.

A race to the restroom, that is.

Yeah, the restroom. Nope, not a meeting with a record executive who was ready to offer me millions for my amazing (imaginary) singing skills. And, no, not a model scout who was ready to break the news of me scoring my own editorial in Vogue.

Just the restroom, the bathroom, the loo.

I had spent the past four hours being tortured by the fact that my bladder had the worst timing in the world. See, I had downed bottles and bottles of water four hours ago as I nervously awaited the coming of the beginning of my high school’s graduation ceremony. About thirty seconds into the ceremony, I was in dire need of a restroom. However, it’s not necessarily proper etiquette to get up in the middle of the ceremony and run to the little girls’ room. So, I suffered for the whole ceremony. I didn’t even get to do the victory dance I had planned to do upon receiving my diploma. It was supposed to be epic, but I wasn’t going to leave high school as the girl who peed on stage.

Oh, no sir.

How exactly did I leave high school? What was my legacy? Well, turn to page seventy-eight of the yearbook and you’ll see yours truly under “Class Clown.” Yes, I was the kid who cracked immature jokes. I was the socially awkward girl who made friends by making people laugh. I was the girl who never took life too seriously, but somehow managed to graduate.

It was a good four years, but I was ready for the next chapter in my life. I wasn’t ready to completely grow up yet, but I know I had a few more responsibilities to handle. But, to me, being an adult doesn’t really start until after you finish college. You get to be an idiot in college, going to frat parties, dating tools, all the fun stuff. So, until I graduate college, I’m going to have as much fun as I can.

After emptying my bladder, I dutifully followed the rules of good hygiene and washed my hands. As I dried my squeaky clean hands, I stole a glance at myself. I was relatively happy with how I cleaned up. I rocked the perfect shade of red lipstick and I proudly wore a little black dress that did wonders for my self-confidence.

“Yeah, I’d be okay with running into my future husband looking like this,” I thought to myself.

Oh, silly Keiko. You and your silly thoughts.

- - - - -

I stood awkwardly in the threshold separating the hall to the restrooms from the actual dining hall, scanning the room for my family. I was so engulfed in operation “Get-Keiko-to-the-restroom” that I forgot to wait around to see where my family would be sitting. Oh well, c’est la vie.

Behind me, I heard someone clear his throat followed by a nervous “Um.” Instead of stepping aside like a normal person, I spun around and came face to face with a certain handsome individual. Mind you, I was still blocking his way and I continued to block his way while I took in all the beautiful features of his face. The poor guy must’ve felt uncomfortable under my scrutinizing eyes because the corners of his mouth pulled up into an awkward smile as his smooth voice said, “Excuse me, babe.”

It took a minute for me to process what I had heard and another minute for my brain to realize that the guy had a British accent. I examined his face further as I regained my senses. But, all at once it hit me, and I found myself in another state of shock.

This was Zayn Malik.