Love is weakness. My father always told me this; it became a mantra I repeated to myself every time things got too deep with a girl. Of course, I had had my fair share of "girlfriends" in the past, but none of them had ever meant much to me. They were all quick hookups, easily forgotten. This may sound cruel, but since when was love kind? I was usually the one who broke it off with a girl, quickly, like pulling off a bandage. It was before they could find out too much about me. Too much about my family. Too much about my father.
The first time I saw her, she was sitting on the ground at the local carwash. She was a cheerleader, that much was easy to see, and that should have been enough to keep me at bay. There was something about her though that made me keep staring. She had soft features, like a child, and she didn't seem like any of the cheerleaders I knew. She was quite and seemed more real than the girls she was with. One was a loud redhead with an obnoxious voice who obviously talked too much. The other was a typical cheerleader type- blonde hair and blue eyes, with a large chest. She, on the other hand, had dark hair and a more natural beauty. I knew I had to talk to her, but at the same time I was cursing myself for overanalyzing some stupid cheerleader. Just as I was contemplating jumping in my car and escaping, she came around the corner, clutching a dollar bill in her hand and heading to the coin machine. Just as she was turning back, I decided I needed change for my ten dollar bill.
"Hey," I called, walking towards her. She stepped back and turned around, surprised. Okay, so she didn't talk.
"You got change for a ten?" Maybe I really had overestimated her; she didn't seem very smart.
"Uh, no," she said. She had a gorgeous voice. Everything about her seemed different, and I thought of how different I must have looked to her. Everything, from my clothing to my hair, was pretty…distinctive. I looked her up and down, taking in the uniform again. Up close, the skirt seemed even shorter and the top was obscenely glittery.
"Nice outfit." I guess I wasn't the most charming person.
She looked embarrassed and I felt a little bad, if not amused. I reached out, touching her bandaged arm, "What happened to you there?"
I could hear one of her friends calling her, but the voice seemed far away, and this girl was so close. Caitlin? Is that what her friend had said?
"I'm coming," she yelled to her friend and then turned back to me and said something about a pyramid. I usually prided myself on being able to pay attention to every word someone said to me, but this girl had me thinking more about her lips than the words coming out of them.
"I should go," Caitlin said, but she made no effort to move.
"Sure," I responded casually. "See ya around, Caitlin." Still, she didn't move, even as I was backing away.
"Wait," she said, "You didn't tell me your name."
"Rogerson," I responded, walking away.