I get to hear stories about how daring she was with Cinthya. I get to hear about how she stood up to her parents and told them Cinthya was coming over for 4th of July. I begin to wonder if maybe I was more like Cinthya I too would get to have her stand up for me. Instead I am the hopeless romantic who cracks jokes about her parents knowing about us again but never being able to get the edge of sarcasm off of it each time I bring it up. So instead tomorrow I am going to be in the same town as her, less than a mile away to be exact and instead of getting to see her I'm going to be with a mutual friend at a burrito place. Sometimes I wonder if I really mean that much to her. Right now, it doesn't feel like I do.