Terrible Things

I combed my hair carefully, frowning as I, once again, changed my parting. I could feel my entire body being weighed down by the sheer amount of gel plastered to my hair. I frowned into the squalid mirror hanging on the once white, now grey, wall. No matter how much effort I made, I still couldn't bring my appearance up to any acceptable standard. I once paid full attention to my looks, never leaving the house until I was sure I looked flawless. I was vain, oh, so very vain. Now, though, you'd be lucky if I even dared run a brush through my hair in the morning. It's funny how just one stranger could have me running around, trying to perfect my looks for just one night.

I was used to meeting whoever I'd pulled, but this was a change. He'd asked me out. I hadn't had the opportunity to sweet talk him, to get him eating out of my palm before I took him out. He agreed to pick me up and take me out, playing the gentleman ever so well. It felt like role reversal, but I didn't mind. He seemed like a special guy, so I didn't mind it all that much.

I turned the tap on, hissing as the hot water scalded me. I turned it down, holding my hand under it until it reached the right temperature. Cupping my hands together, I collected some of the water, tossing it onto my hair before attempting to make more adjustments to it. It was unco-operative at the best of times, and today was no exception. I threw my hands up in defeat, just accepting that I'd have to deal with my hair as it was, and at that moment, I heard a knock on the door. Excellent timing then.

I hurtled down the stairs, tripping over the many items of clothing that still littered it. I was never one for tidying. My house was a disgrace, but looking back, whilst it may put many other people off, I don't think it bothered Sean at all. Like I said, he was a special guy.

I opened the door slowly, sticking my head out to peer around it. In all the years I'd lived here, no one had been inside. Some might call me antisocial, but I preferred to think of myself as 'selectively social'. As expected, Sean was stood directly outside the door, observing the flower pots that decorated my door step. They were a gift from my mother, and if they made the place seem a little more pleasant, why not keep 'em?

He was dressed, very stereotypically, in an incredibly posh looking suit. Shirt, tie, jacket, the lot. He observed my choice of outfit for a moment, chuckling a little. A pair of torn jeans and yet another band shirt from the collection? Classy. I smiled sheepishly at him and he merely shook his head, still laughing, as he linked his arm with mine and hauled me out the door.

As it just so happened, Sean was not only a pretty face, but an intriguing person also. I found it easy to make conversation with him, and even when I didn't speak - which was a rare occurrence - he filled the silence with simple stories from his daily life, amusing tales of the shenanigans he and his friends had gotten up to in the past, even a few stories that's sole purpose seemed to be to embarrass his younger brother. He was funny, too, always cracking a joke about something or other.

When it came to parting, he left me home, escorting me to the door and kissing my briefly, his lips meeting mine for barely a second before he pulled away.

He promised to meet me again before he left, and I watched him until the car pulled out of sight.

What a gentleman.