A girl stood alone on a platform, waiting for a train. She looked forsaken, her hair falling in front of her lonely eyes.

She checked her phone for a text she hadn't received. He's not actually coming, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. She shook her head as if scaring the thought away. She looked at her old converse like they held the answer, but all they held was her dainty feet and a layer of dirt. The more she stared at her toes, the more insignificant she felt. She wondered if she should've dressed up more. She had planned to wear a dress at least, maybe do her hair. She had planned to look pretty when he came back. But it had been cold that morning and she had switched the dress for a sweater. It had been so cold she didn't want to get out of bed and ended up leaving her hair down for lack of time. Now, glancing in the dark windows of the building, she realized how plain she looked. She hadn't put on makeup that morning and - compared to Cato's past girlfriends - she wasn't much.

She had imagined greeting him to be perfect, like a story. She imagined herself wearing a cute dress that twirled around her when he hugged her and spun her around in his arms. She had been wearing small heels so she didn't have to stand on tip-toe to kiss him. She had imagined him with a shirt tight enough to show his muscles and hair that was spiky, but also soft. He had looked like a modern-day prince and she had looked like a sweet girl-next-door. She hadn't imagined herself looking like a girl who stayed up late and woke up feeling like crap.

It was half an hour later and Cato still hadn't stepped off a train. Her shoulders slumped when she realized he wasn't coming. She turned abruptly and started walking away from the crowds of the reunited. She felt hot tears welling up in her eyes and turned her face to the sky, trying to not cry. He's just a stupid boy. Forget about him. She told herself over and over, but it didn't help. She started speeding up her walking so no one would see her cry.

"Clove?" A familiar voice halted her. She turned around to find Cato, looking like anything but a modern-day prince. He had bags under his eyes from sleeping on the train. He was wearing a sweater, like her, and he had a hat on. It was meant to hide his messy hair, but some blonde locks still peeked out. He smiled at her in a way that apologized for his lateness.

She opened her mouth to say something that would be romantic and cute, instead she told him: "Hi. I didn't eat breakfast this morning." She cringed. He looked at her curiously for a second, then started laughing.

"You are adorable." He told her, pulling her into a sloppy hug and kissing her forehead. Her expression brightened into a smile and she giggled. She nuzzled her head against him, finding the familiar spot where his chest met his shoulder. His hands held onto her gently, but still like he wouldn't let her go for anything.

Eventually he let go of her and took her hand instead. "How about we go eat brunch somewhere?" He asks her, making her nod happily. They spent the rest of the day together and not once did Cato stop showing his affection for the petite girl in the sweater.