How To Get Your Heart Broken (5 page)

Reindeer Mugs Turn
Me On

Jessie’s house was
basically a mini-mansion. So of course, it took more stairs then necessary to
reach his porch. The outside of the house was painted white, despite how hard I
imagined it would be to keep it clean.

The inside was no
different; the foyer, which stood between the living room and the spiral
staircase that led upstairs, was abnormally large and a complete waste of space
if you asked me. The living room was decorated completely in neutral colors,
the flat-screen T.V. was almost too large, the family photos looked as if they
had all been taken by professional photographers. Their dining room was almost
twice the size of ours. Everything seemed showy and impersonal.

Even though the house
seemed to fit the idea I had of who Jessie was, I was trying to give him the
benefit of the doubt. After all, I assumed this was his
parents’
house.

It didn’t hurt that I was also in a fairly good mood today.
I’d gone all week without crying about
the-X
. When I deleted his last one
hundred apology texts this morning, I only hesitated for seven seconds. I
counted. For me, this was progress.
 

It had been a
few days since Jessie had proposed the tennis match. It turned out he didn’t
watch tennis (I had a feeling) and I only ever watched it because Rachel was
into it. So we settled on a movie instead.
 

The house
seemed eerily quiet, but I remembered that large houses could be this way. I
settled into the living room and tried to get comfortable.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asked.

I shook my head, “I’m okay.”

“We’ve got tea,” he sing-songed. “I know you like that.”

“Okay,” I relented with a shrug.

He handed me a large mug when he returned, turning it so I could grip on to
the handle while his hands wrapped around the hot sides.

I stared at him for a little too long before taking the cup, but I’d been
pleasantly surprised by this small gesture.

And on top of that, the mug was adorable. It had a large red-nosed reindeer
protruding from the side and an antler for a handle.

‘Maybe he’s not so
awful?’
I thought to myself as I rubbed Rudolph’s nose.
At this point, it was still more of a question than a statement,
but the mug certainly helped. I tilted my nose towards the heat coming from it.
Mint tea.

‘Well, that doesn’t
hurt.’

“What do you want to watch?” He asked.

He had actual DVDs. I walked over to the large shelf and pulled one out. I
handed it to him before sitting back down.

His nose wrinkled. “James Bond?” He questioned.

“Do you have a problem with James?” I asked. I happened to believe that
regardless of age or sexual orientation, no one could resist Daniel Craig. I
wasn’t going to let Jessie of all people tell me any differently.

He shrugged, “I guess not.”

He turned the DVD over in his hands and smirked, “So do you actually like
James Bond or are you just trying to impress me?”

“Oh for God’s sake!” I exclaimed. I lamented my earlier thought about him
not being so bad.
 

“I’m kidding,” he laughed as he walked towards the T.V. to put the DVD in.
“I’m not at all impressed by James Bond.”

I shook my head, looking forward to not hearing him talk for the duration
of the movie.

--

We were halfway through the film when I remembered that
Quantum of Solace
was my least favorite
James Bond film.

Jessie could tell I was bored, and he kept looking over at me as if to say,
‘You picked it!’

I was zoned out, lost in my own thoughts when I noticed him peering up at
me, his face mere centimeters away. When he saw that he’d finally gotten my
attention, he winked. My reaction was delayed, but I moved my head back.

“Close your eyes,” I ordered.

He obeyed without a moment’s hesitation.
 

At times, I could be impulsive, not thinking about the consequences of my
actions until it was too late. Like now.

I moved my hand towards his face. Gently, but quickly, I ran my index
finger through his eyelashes.

Why you ask?
Because I wanted to. I
couldn’t resist when I’d noticed how long they were. Instead of trying to
imagine how they felt, I decided to find out. And for a moment I was satisfied,
it was like touching a
freaking
feather. But I didn’t pull my hand back quickly enough.

I felt his lips curve into a smile by where my arm was touching his mouth.
He gave the inside of my wrist a quick kiss.

I simultaneously gasped and pulled my hand back. It felt exactly like
touching something hot. I could feel the burn in my cheeks.

My mouth formed into a small o. His smile grew ever-so-slightly, but I
could tell he was trying to restrain himself, to make this casual. As if
nothing had happened.

I hadn’t realized that my hand was still hanging between us. I dropped it
on my lap and shook my head.

Ryan always told me I was bold. He told me that was one of the things he
loved about me (and now I don’t know if he meant it…). But I always managed to
catch him off guard, leaving him unable to respond. It made me feel more in
control. Apparently that trick wasn’t going to work with Jessie. But I wasn’t
sure I hated it.

He turned back to the movie, but he was still
too
close. Our knees were touching. I could see the smirk that
remained on his lips.

For a moment, I felt like I’d been sucked into one of those dream sequences
they often have in films, like when Cady attacks Regina in
Mean Girls.
Except my dream was slightly different. I would attack
Jessie with my lips, and we would have mind-numbing sex on the couch.

I swallowed and quietly slid as far away as the loveseat would allow. Then,
I sat on my hands. Apparently, I was going to have a hard time keeping them to
myself today. The logical part of me knew that hooking up with Jessie would be
a mistake for a million and one reasons, so I tried to let it guide me.

When
the movie ended, I released my numb hands from underneath me, and dashed out as
quickly as I could. I was sure he thought I was a freak.
 

Most Secrets Come
Out In the Worst Ways

 
“This whole thing was your idea! Don’t try to
pin any of this on me!” I was screaming at Rachel. I barely knew what I was
saying. I just knew that nothing would have made me happier at that moment than
ripping her hair out of her scalp.
                  
                                            

She clearly felt the same. “Screw you! You
never objected to the idea before. Now that things don’t go your way you blame
me! I’m not the one that has a vendetta against every man alive!”

“You know what? This is both of your
faults! You both went along with it! Eli, you always go along Rachel’s stupid
ideas. This mess is because of both of you!” It was the first time I’d heard
Ashton yell at anyone.

“Why are you even talking Little Miss
Perfect? You know, Eli’s only friends with you because she feels sorry for you,
because you had no friends. You’re just as much of a loser now as you were in
high school,” Rachel said the words coolly, as if she were asking someone to
pass the salad.

“I don’t even know why you’re here,” she
added as an afterthought.

I could see the tears in Ashton’s eyes,
threatening to betray the strong demeanor she tried to maintain in front of
Rachel, but I was too pissed at everyone and everything to do anything about
it.

“That’s right, screw me! Because that’s all
you ever do. Maybe I wasn’t “cool” in high school, but at least I wasn’t a
whore. You think I have problems?
 
At
least… at least I’m not mean. At least I’m not you.”

I was shocked that those words had come out
of Ashton’s mouth. I knew how cruel Rachel could be, but Ashton seemed to mean
every word. I had never expected that we would be standing here, having a
shouting match, all of us trying to make our words hurt more.

I watched Ash trudge up the stairs to her
room. I heard the quiet click of her door and I looked at where Rachel had been
standing before the slam of the front door announced her exit. I thought of the
mess we had made, the mess we had all contributed to. The events of our
horrendous night were finally starting to sink in. What had we done?

It
stared out fine.

When
Ashton suggested a bonfire, I thought it sounded like a recipe for disaster.
But then Rachel agreed, because she wanted to “survey the competition” and a
lapse in judgment led me to say yes too. And I started to think I was wrong,
that we were all capable of being more civil than I gave us credit for.

“Eli,
s’more? You don’t want a s’more?” I backed away from the remnants of a wooden
hanger and burned marshmallow Jessie was trying to push in my face from across
the fire.

Rachel
was sitting beside him, frowning every time he said something to me instead of
her. I had to admit that in some twisted way, her jealousy made me feel good.

She
tugged his arm. He turned towards her, nearly shoving the thing into her eye.

“Do
you want it?” he asked.

“I’ll
pass,” she replied, scooting away from him slightly.

Ash
laughed, and we shared looks of disgust when he shoved the thing into his
mouth.

“How
come none of you want any s’mores?” he inquired with his mouth still full of
the black, crispy remnants of what was once a marshmallow.

“That
was gross,” Ash giggled quietly.

“Well,
Rachel refuses to eat anything with more than 20 calories!” I replied.

Everyone
laughed, except for me… and Rachel. It was the sort of joke Rachel and I would
make at each other’s expense, but something about doing it in front of him made
me regret it immediately. Still, it was just another example of Eli talking
without thinking, and I figured Rachel was accustomed enough to it that she
would let it go.

Rachel
did watch her weight; she didn’t eat anything fried or processed. I knew she
counted calories, even if she didn’t do it out loud and she worked out
religiously. Still, what I’d said obviously wasn’t true. Unfortunately, she
didn’t dismiss it the way I’d hoped she would.

“You’re
talking about me counting calories? That’s funny, since you’re the one with the
eating disorder,” she said with a sickly sweet smile on her face, as if she had
been wishing me luck on a test.

It
got eerily quiet. I watched the marshmallow Jessie was holding over the fire
burn to a crisp, again, and the flames encircle the whole stick because he held
it there for so long.

“It’s
okay, we all have our imperfections, right? I count calories; I’m the shallow,
dumb cheerleader that only cares about her weight, and boys. And Eli, well
she’s got her

mental
issues, and her trust issues, and her bulimia issues…We can all still get along,
right? Right, Ashton?”

I
was hurt. And shocked. No anger, no consuming desire to get even. Just hurt and
shock. There wasn’t room for anything else. I did not reply. I was able to just
sit there and take what she had said, but somehow Ashton couldn’t.

“Unbelievable!
You call yourself her friend, and as soon as you see some guy‒sorry
Jessie‒Eli doesn’t even matter to you anymore! How dare you talk about
her like that! Like you’re better than her when all you are is a self-centered
bitch. You act like you’re queen of the world but you’re just a coward. You’re
even scared of the ocean!”
  

I
watched Rachel’s face turn rigid. There was nothing Ashton could have called
her that she hadn’t been called before; it was the fear she had recognized that
had turned Rachel’s face so pale. Of course, Ashton didn’t know the reason
Rachel was so afraid of the water, so she couldn’t have known the effect her
words would have. But I did. And it was enough to almost make me want to
comfort Rachel.

I
watched Jessie finally drop his wooden contraption into the fire, now that
there was little left of it and the flames threatened to engulf his entire
hand. I noticed how the fire grew, like the stick had been fuel. Like Rachel’s
words had been. I watched the way Jessie looked at me. I resented it.

Ashton
grabbed my hand and I followed her absently, not knowing where we were headed,
and not minding as long as it was away from them. I realized it was the first
time Ashton had seen me cry. I realized I’d been trying to hold it in all that
time, not wanting Rachel to see the damage her words had done. Despite
everything, I didn’t want her to feel worse than she already would tonight.

I
wasn’t sure why I was crying. Or why I felt like someone was suffocating me. It
was as if I’d learned some new, painstaking truth instead of one I’d been
forced to face years ago. I felt as if someone had punched a hole right in the
middle of me, and it was all because Rachel had spoken the truth. The truth I
thought I knew. The truth I thought I could face.