That's where I met Sarah, a bright-eyed freshman and my first real crush.
I drove straight to Paul's place.
At his door, only his shoes were there—a pair of old leather boots.
"Paul, it's me, open up."
I pounded on the door for a solid five minutes. A neighbor even poked her head out, shushing me, but still no sign of Paul.
Was he out?
Just as I pulled out my phone to call him, the door swung open.
There was Paul, sweating bullets in his pajamas, looking flushed.
He seemed taken aback to see me.
"What brings you here?"
"And why shouldn't I be?"
I barged in and flopped onto his couch.
A subtle scent lingered in the air—something familiar that instantly told me it was the smell of romance.
"Really, man? I bomb my proposal and you're here playing Casanova?"
It was a joke, but anger was simmering beneath the surface.
God, I hope it's not what I think.
Paul chuckled nervously and shut the door, sitting across from me.
"Seriously though, what's up with you today?" He fidgeted, clearly uneasy.
I fished out some smokes, offering him one.
"Guess I'm just not feeling the whole marriage vibe anymore, you know?"
I tossed it out casually, but my eyes were locked on his every move.