Tulip

"K. It's a date then :)"

I don't own any lipstick.
I don't know what what's-his-face was talking about, but I use lipgloss, not lipstick.
As I exit my bed I felt my mind whirl, giving me a spiraling headache. In attempt to ease it, I undress and walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower and leveling up the heat until it's practically steaming. I place my toe in, then my foot, until I'm standing in the shower. I then reach for my Brazilian Nut body wash and, rubbing it on my hands, lather it all over my slim form. I glance down my body, observing ever flaw in it. I always try to ignore that, or embrace my flaws, but it's rather hard to. Sighing, I lift up my arms and let the strong stream of water wash off the soap. After my body's done, I grab some shampoo and scrub it into my scalp, followed by a butt-ton of conditioner. I'm finally done, and I hop out of the shower, sighing as the last perfect trace of hot water drips off my body. Snatching a towel I tie it over my body and pat down my face. I reach for the moisturizer, rubbing it over my face. Ever since I was seventeen and had chronic acne, I've always put extra care into my face. I reach for the cleanser when-

Ding!

Raising an eyebrow, I fumble around, reaching for my phone. As my hand grips the cold screen I check messages and see that the lipstick man texted me:
"Hey! Wanna meet up at the tulip thingamajig?"
I giggle at the word thingamajig. I've always thought it was so funny. I'm about to ask the guy's name when I check his contact and it says, Maybe: SEBASTIAN ;). Huh. Weird name. I take a moment to decide what to say. Should we meet up? I shrug. No harm in that. Wiping off my hands I type back:
"Sure. Wut time?"
"Is 2 good 4 u?"
"Uhh, sure."
"K. It's a date then :)"
I blink at the bright light of the screen. Date? I never knew it was a date. I thought it was a . . . friendly meetup. But I guess not. As I think about Sebastian's last text I can't help but feel my stomach churn. I don't know why, though. Maybe because Sebastian's kind of cute. . . . No. I mean, I just met him. But, maybe he's the "special someone" my mom's talking about.
     I shake my head, sending the water drops that clung to my hair splattering everywhere. I had a habit of moving ahead of myself, and this time was no different. I blink away the water in my eyes (not tears), and secure my towel. Reaching for my phone again, I check the time. I have two hours to get ready. That's enough time. I finish applying my cleanser and then pat myself down again, making sure I'm nice and dry. I bend over, flip my hair over as well, and quickly drape the towel over my head, wrapping it around my blond—now a dull, dirty brown because of the water—hair and snatch some panties.
     Dressed and my hair combed, I slowly walk towards the kitchen, taking a glance at the calendar on the fridge: it's November 6th, so my twentieth birthday is in a month. I swallow down a feeling of uneasiness; my parents would be calling me, and they wouldn't be calling to wish me happy birthday. They would just make their relentless "you need to go to college!" hounding even worse. I want to go to college and major in physics or something like that, but I'm just not ready.
     Shaking away the tenseness, I reach for some cinnamon square cereal and pour it into a tiny little unicorn bowl from my early childhood. I reach for some pure cows milk and drizzle it over the cereal, making a soft glug glug sound. I reach for a tiny spoon and dig in, opening my small mouth and putting the metal utensil in. I check the time. 3:38. Guess I should get going.

     I let my eyes scan the field, searching for his tall, bulky figure. At once I see his face flash in the corner of my eye, followed by him screaming, "Hey!" I smile up at him, feeling unusually warm. I tug at the collar of my shirt, letting the cool breeze deep into my dress. Then I glance up at him, and he quickly runs his fingers through his thick, dark muted brown hair.
     "Hey." He nods to me, his deep blue eyes like shiny ice in the afternoon sun. I smile at him, feeling the corners of my mouth tug hard at my cheeks.
     "Hello," I greet him, squinting my eyes. Sebastian does this weird long nod, and I try to fill the silence.
     "Sooooo." I make the long word sound like a creaking door hinge. "Why'd you want to meet?"
     Sebastian blinks, clearly a little stumped. He seems to not know why he called this friendly meetup, and it makes me raise a brow.
     I open my jaws to say something, but he interjects.
     "'Iono." He clears his throat. "Just was bored."
     Although his response was half-hearted, I still feel a pang of dissatisfaction. I thought it had something to do with me, not just because of himself. I let out a silent sigh.
"Oh?" I raise my eyebrows and fake being interested. "Me too," I fib, staring him squarely in the eye. Sebastian seemed to shrivel under my gaze, and I quickly look away, not wanting to seem rude. "So," I blurt, my gaze sweeping the countless rows of tulips. "What should we do?"
Sebastian shrugs. "How about we go pick some tulips?" he suggests, pointing towards a nice and fertile patch of land where the soil is flooded with bright white flowers. "We could make a bouquet."
I smile at him. "Sure." I walk towards the patch of flowers and pick a few. But, once my chunk of flowers are all nice and neat, I realize I have nothing to tie it with. Scratching my head I turn to Sebastian. "Do you have a hair tie?" Sebastian points to his short hair, making me giggle a bit. Of course he doesn't, silly! I scold myself. His hair is shorter than my dad's. I take out my bun and shake out my hair, airing it out and adjusting it to my liking. I grab two chunks and put them in the front, making my hair nice and loose. Grabbing the hair tie I stretch it out with three fingers and wrap it around the bunch of flower stems, twisting it until the bouquet is secured. Once I'm happy, I glance at Sebastian to show him my creation, when I see his blue gaze glued to my hair. I tilt my head, feeling a bit self conscious. Is something wrong with my hair? Did I forget to brush it?
I quickly pat my hair down. "Uh, Sebastian?" Sebastian's gaze snaps back towards me, the clouds evaporating from it. "W-What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing!" Sebastian assures me, oddly quick to reply. "It's just . . . your hair."
"Is . . . is something wrong with it?"
Sebastian quickly shakes his head. "Oh, no! It's just really pretty."
I feel my face become flushed as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He called me pretty. I clutch the flowers in my hand, my mouth growing dry. What do I say? If I tell him thank you then he probably will think I'm being vain, but if I object then he'll think I'm ungrateful or an attention-seeker. Instead of saying anything, I just dip my head and let a small smile pop up on my face.
I decide to change the subject. "So, where to now?"
Sebastian grins. "I have somewhere that you'll like."