Upon my arrival to my room I am bombarded by my sister, who has apparently been staked out in my room waiting to attack me with questions.

"Did he like your outfit?" she asks excitedly and practically has a heart attack when I don't respond within .648538 seconds of the question being asked. She helped me choose the outfit before I left, referencing several vomit-worthy teen romance movies in which the character wore something that provoked a desired reaction by their date. She then explained to me characteristics of some clothing from my own wardrobe which would do the same.

All the while she asked question after question about Patrick and our relationship. She's planning on calling us Katrick when we officially become a couple. Excuse me while I vomit.

"I can't believe he actually asked dad for permission!" She exclaims now as I collapse onto my bed.

"He's crazy," I say, agreeing with the implied statement.

"Speaking of crazy, wasn't he rumored to be a killer or something?" her face brightens as if she has just realized the meaning of life, "How romantic! The killer has a soft spot for you!"

I roll my eyes, "The only kind of killer he has ever been is a lady killer. I assure you."

"Still just as romantic. The player has a soft-spot for you. Always a great movie plot."

"He does seem kind of serious about it."

She gasps, "He's falling in love with you! Oh my gosh, can I help you pick out your wedding dress?"

I stare blankly at her for a moment, trying to grasp whether or not she is actually serious,. She is. "You're getting a little ahead of yourself there, don't ya think?"

"You'll be high school sweethearts! That's so adorable. It'll be a great story to tell when people ask how you met."

"You know, maybe if you took on romantic novel writing in your free time you would be less likely to let your fantasies seep into real life."

"Oh come on, deep down I know you want something that romantic. Every girl does."

"Well, you may have noticed that I'm not like every girl," I reply, "I prefer to live in reality."

***********

A knock on my window quickly brings me out of my deep state of concentration and I close my book and saunter over to the window. I welcome Patrick with a smile as I unlock and lift the window.

"Is this a good time for me to kidnap you and bring you to the beach?" he inquires.

"Indeed it is," I respond, grabbing a sweater off of my desk chair and climbing out the window.

Minutes later I arrive at the beach on the back of his bike. I smile as I take in the smell of the water. It smells like a mixture of salt and fresh air, neither of which are particularly great smells until combined with one another.

This time instead of walking the beach, we pick a spot in the sand and sit, quietly watching the waves crash onto the shore, a sight which is surprisingly hypnotic.

"This is my favorite part about California," I say.

"Um…thanks."

I shrug, "Eh, I guess you're alright, too."

He smiles, "I'll take that."

I laugh a little bit and turn to him, "Take what you can get."

"Exactly."

"Your ego doesn't need to be any bigger anyway," I say.

He turns to me wearing a small smile that eventually fades into a more serious, focused expression. He gazes at me thoughtfully.

"What happened to make you so guarded?"

I study him for a moment. His deep brown eyes seem to be all-knowing as they stare back at me waiting for a reply. I turn away, closing my eyes. If he cares then he deserves to know.

"As sad as it makes me to admit this, I used to be a lot like my sister: driven by the opinions of the people around me instead of by my own."

"That's very hard for me to picture."

"Good. Because those years of being like that weren't exactly my best. I hid everything that I actually was--the feminist, the rights activist, the environmentalist--and created this phony version of me. I started dating this guy who wore a mask of Prince Charming and then one night we went to a party and I got wasted on Rum and Orange juice and he took advantage of me--took my virginity--and then broke up with me the next day."

"And he's still breathing? I'm surprised."

"He was a Jack of all asses," I continue, "I cut ties with my entire group of friends after that and concentrated on making myself better than the average, self-centered and ignorant teenager. I focused on things of importance. I just grew into the personality that had always been there but had been too big to fit the small person that I was living as."

He's silent and for a moment I think he has dozed off with his eyes open in the middle of my story, then he turns to me, "I'm just can't picture you being so completely opposite of what you are right now. It seems….wrong."

"It was wrong," I agree with a wry smile.