Lydia has never been particularly invested in the idea of romance. She didn’t sneak peeks at bridal magazines and spend her nights dreaming about the perfect wedding dress she would wear someday next to the perfect husband.
It crossed her mind occasionally, something distant and sort of nice to think about sometimes, but it always seemed like so many other things in life were so much more important.
Sure, she dated. She liked the attention Jackson gave her as her boyfriend, and the attention the rest of he school population gave her for dating a star athlete. She really liked the athletic sex. She liked not having to deal with questions from all and sundry about why she was single or when she was going to find herself a nice man.
Then she and Jackson fell apart, and she wasn’t as disappointed as she thought she would be. (As everyone expected her to be. As she thought maybe she should be.) She missed the sex, had the occasional twinge of nostalgia for the stray romantic gesture, but mostly she was just relieved to have more free time for her formulas and various supernatural crises.
She thought, maybe, with Jordan. She liked him, after all. But there were other priorities so much higher on her list and in the end, it simply wasn’t worth it. They were asymptotes, growing closer and closer but not destined to meet, and that was okay.
Maybe someday she would find someone to wear that perfect dress with, and maybe she wouldn’t. Lydia honestly wasn’t too concerned either way. She had so much more to do with her life anyway.
theproblemwithstardust 