Heartbreak Café

by A. R. Perry

  Too dark and dirty for her angelic ears.

  Once Jesse pops into my head, my attention wanders to Braden. He’s an anomaly. Popular and gorgeous and hangs out with the jocks, but he’s not one. Dates the most beautiful girls in school, but dumps them after barely any time at all. Yet, he seemed comfortable hanging out with me. Like he proffered it, which is so ridiculous it thoroughly hurts my brain.

  He did spend all of bio ignoring me today, which I probably deserve. I’ve never run somewhere so fast in my life. His giant ego has never taken a blow before that I’m sure of.

  Then again, maybe he is just a nice guy who wanted to do a nice thing for a girl helping him out. But nice guys shouldn’t hang out with the likes of Jesse. Which is the whole reason I find myself not being able to trust him. And now that yesterday has somehow spread to the entire school, I’ll also be on the receiving end of gossip. A place I’ve avoided since freshman year.

  “Hey.” Zari’s voice breaks me out of my head.

  Damn. I didn’t hear her coming. Jesse isn’t even here, and he’s screwing me over.

  “Hey.” I sidestep her and try to make my way to the front to tidy up again, but her arm shoots out to stop me.

  “Want to tell me why you bolted yesterday? I thought you agreed to help out. He was just trying to thank you.”

  “I did agree…before I knew I was helping Braden.” Might as well get into it. She has me trapped for another three and a half hours.

  “So? What’s wrong with Braden.”

  I don’t know and that’s what’s eating at me.

  “Nothing good comes from being around the popular group. One day and I’m on the radar in a bad way.”

  Zari’s stupid kind heart breaks all over her face, making me feel like I kicked a puppy or something equally horrendous. I always forget she’s part of the popular group. Top tier.

  “Not you. You know that.”

  “Do I? You seem to hate us a lot.”

  “I don’t hate you. No one can hate you. I just don’t want to get mixed up in the whole Braden drama. I’m sure his newly minted ex doesn’t appreciate him spending time with a girl even if said girl is me.”

  Truth. She sent more than one stink-eye my way today.

  “I hate when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  A few of the college kids stumble out the door and I have to wonder if they are headed off for their next big party. I can’t imagine getting through college in that state. Less than a year and I’ll get to find out.

  Zari grabs my shoulder and gives it a shake. “Put yourself down. You are beautiful inside and out even when you try to hide behind snark and curse words.”

  “You sound like my mom.”

  “We’re the only two people close enough to you to know the truth.”

  “Are we done with the after school special?”

  “See, there’s that snark.”

  I roll my eyes and check the clock. Ugh. Still so long to put up with this.

  “So are you going to bail on tutoring?” she asks.

  What I want to say is yes, instead I shake my head. “No. But I wanted to see if maybe we can switch students? Braden’s more your speed. And if you guys are spotted together, there won’t be any questions. Or rumors.”

  “No. Megan needs help in bio and that’s not your strongest subject. I told you, Mrs. Rivera put a lot of thought into who she assigned. Braden needs help in English and you, my dear, rock at it.”

  I groan and slump onto the counter. “You’re not letting me out of this, are you?”

  “Nope.” She smiles.

  “I don’t like you right now.”

  “You love me.”

  And that’s how the rest of the night went. Shredder kept her distance, but that’s because Mr. Lee stayed until closing. Always on her best behavior around him.

  By the time I get home, I’m exhausted and have hours of homework left. Mom went shopping so our freezer is stocked with an array of frozen meals. I hate the taste of them since she’s been choosing the lean options, but I don’t have much of a choice. Eat them or starve.

  I pop the stupid plastic container in the microwave then flip open Instagram. The first picture that loads almost makes me drop my phone. Michelle posted it an hour ago and already it’s racked up a substantial amount of likes and comments. And for some reason I have a twang of guilt for even looking at it. But at the same time I can’t stop staring.

  The photo is taken from Michelle’s perspective. There’s a crap-ton of bare thigh and knee, which whatever, she’s posted photos with her wearing less. But the picture doesn’t end there. Braden is also in it. His bare upper torso is pressed against her skin. One hand wrapped around her knee. He’s looking toward the camera—at her I’m assuming—but I swear it’s as if he’s looking right into my soul. His lips are twisted into a half smirk and his gorgeous blue eyes are full of lust.

  That look could explode panties.

  Her caption reads: Never trust a man who could look at you like this one moment and drop you the next.

  I shut down my phone and toss it on the table. Hurting or not that’s jacked up. From the looks of it, they were seconds away from getting down and dirty and for her to share that, even when mad, is so not cool.

  I’m not hungry anymore, but when the microwave beeps, I pull out the meal and eat it anyway. My mom works so hard for her money I’m not about to waste it even if it’s only a couple dollars.

  After I scarf down the meal without tasting it—not that it has much taste to begin with—I do a quick sweep of the kitchen, cleaning up this morning’s dishes and making sure my mom doesn’t have any housework when she gets home. The carpets need vacuuming, but that can wait, it’s not as if my mom ever does it. I don’t think she knows where the damn vacuum is.

  By the time I finish, the clock reads half past nine. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a whole five hours of sleep after hammering out homework. I honestly can’t wait to be done with this crap and move on to college.

  One more year. I chant in my head as I make my way down the hall. One more year.

  Yeah, I didn’t get five hours of sleep last night. Got maybe three. And the saddest part was it wasn’t homework keeping me up. I finished that with lightning speed. Nope. The moment my head hit my pillow, I couldn’t stop thinking about Braden. The expression on his face somehow got seared into the portion of my brain that makes bad decisions and I couldn’t shake it no matter what I did.

  And so I didn’t risk it—since Devon still isn’t talking to me—and stopped to buy the biggest, strongest coffee before school. Sure, it left me a little jittery throughout the end of second period, but it was the only thing that saw me all the way to bio.

  Bio and Braden. At this point I’m wishing I left campus during lunch to get another coffee. Or ran altogether. Too bad I don’t own a car.

  When he walks in I can’t look in his direction. His eyes envelop my brain and I’m terrified he will see the admiration. Okay, not admiration. Lust. A deep pounding in my gut that is equal parts nauseating and exhilarating. And frightening. A feeling I’ve never quite felt before. A feeling that needs to see itself out of my body.

  The stool squeaks under his weight, but I keep my focus on my binder. Never mind that I can smell him. The same smell from his car. Or how his steady breathing has a way of calming my anxiety, if only a little.

  When Mr. Brown walks in the rest of my anxiety leaves in a wave, deflating my body. He’s rolled in a TV, which means some boring video, but it also means there won’t be any group activities today. No reason to talk to Braden or feel the weight of his stare.

  Not until I have to tutor him.

  The thought punches the air from my lungs.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  Why did I let Zari talk me into sticking around? Why did I have to see that stupid photo that’s screwing with the hormone-laden side of my brain? I was fine before this. Three days somehow undid all my hard work of becoming invi
sible. No longer the girl who is pointed at and gossiped about. It’s all crashing down and I’m suffocating under the weight of it. The uncertainty and scrutiny. It’s a dark place that took forever to climb out of.

  I don’t want to go back.

  I can’t go back. It will break me this time.

  A sudden surge of adrenaline spikes my heart rate. An explosion in my chest shoots out through my veins leaving me dizzy and gasping for air. Thoughts race through my head at lightning speed. Photos. Rumors. Laughter. Utter emptiness that grew and grew until a black hole sat where my heart used to be. Where scar tissue is now.

  The ground melts out from under me and I swear I’m seconds away from falling down the rabbit hole. Giving the kids something else to gossip about. Something far more entertaining than a shirtless picture of Braden. Sparking their memories.

  When the lights go out and the video starts, a warm hand clutches mine. A pressing thumb eases the tight fist I’ve created around my pen.

  “Take a deep breath,” Braden whispers in my ear, so low only I will hear it.

  Air enters my lungs on a sharp inhale, making them ache, breaking the oxygen-starved cycle of shallow breathing I was stuck in. My muscles turn to jelly, making me thankful I’m sitting as I lean forward to gain more support from the desk.

  Braden’s thumb continues to trail across my skin, back and forth in a consistent motion from wrist to knuckles. Part of me wants him to stop. The other part is thankful for the distraction. Concentrating on the slight scratch of a callus against the softness of my skin gives me something to focus on until my breathing is normal and my muscles no longer feel like limp noodles.

  As if sensing I no longer need it, Braden backs off with a final squeeze. After a quick glance to the side, I see he’s fixated on the video, taking notes as if nothing happened.

  I couldn’t say what the hell the video is about, but for the rest of class I try my best to focus on it, to drown out the thoughts lurking in the recesses of my brain before they have a chance to strike again.

  Moments before the bell rings, Braden tears a piece of paper out of his binder and slides it under my notebook. When the lights come on and the class shuffles out, he joins them without a backward glance.

  I stare at the paper. So innocent. A paper with words on it. Most likely notes from the video, but I can’t bring myself to read it. Blame it on leftover adrenaline, but it feels ominous.

  I slip it into my bag and jet to gym. If we’re late, the teacher makes us do laps and I am in no shape to be doing any sort of running. Well, unless it’s the kind I do from my emotions. I’m good at that.

  We played basketball today. Correction—the class played basketball. I faked a twisted ankle. Devon shot me a few knowing glances, but didn’t try to talk to me. Guess he’s still pissed and thinks I lied. Technically I did, but Braden’s secrets aren’t mine to tell. Even to the school gossip who eats them like he needs it to live.

  Gym being my last class of the day allows me time to wait out the other girls so I don’t have to change in the bathroom stall.

  As I’m slipping into my jeans, I stumble sideways and knock my backpack over. The piece of paper Braden gave me tumbles out into a crumpled ball on the ground. His messy handwriting catches my eye and before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I smooth it out and scan the words.

  It’s hard to read. I’m amazed he can make out what he’s written down in class. But after a few passes I’m able to get the gist.

  Meet by my car after class. Back lot.

  I glance at my phone. I’ve taken my sweet time changing, knowing by the time I’m done classes would be in session and I wouldn’t have to fight through crowds. The library is close, so I figured I had time. No way will I make it to the back lot. And I have no idea why I want to make it. Why the thought of Braden wanting me to meet him sends a thrill through me. Because meeting him by his car feels a lot different than meeting him in the library.

  Still, those thoughts don’t stop me from buttoning my pants and slipping on my tennis shoes. They certainly don’t stop me from slinging on my backpack and rushing out the doors before breaking out into a jog.

  The halls are deserted as expected. It makes getting places faster, but when I glimpse the time it’s ten minutes past the late bell. No way Braden waited for me. No reason I should care.

  Lockers pass by in a blur before giving way to classroom doors. Some of them are open and a few students give me curious looks. Almost as if they can read my thoughts or somehow sense the desperation dripping off me. Desperate. Something I’ve never been. Yet that’s exactly how I feel as I round the corner and jog into the overflowing parking lot. But those thoughts still aren’t enough to stop me.

  My eyes sweep over the cars as I near the back. To the right and on the outer edge I spot him. His head is downcast, staring at his phone. After a few seconds, he glances up and catches me approaching. The smile that takes over his face makes my knees weak. All rubber with a little too much bounce in each step. Something I have no business feeling.

  Before I reach him, I do my best to secure a passive expression on my face. This boy is dangerous for my rules and focus for reasons I can’t quite figure out.

  “Why are we meeting here?” I ask once I’ve stopped a few feet from him. The gleam in his eyes doesn’t die down even after the sharpness in my words.

  He slides his phone into his pocket. “You seemed bothered that people knew we were hanging out. So—”

  “We’re not hanging out,” I correct. “I’m tutoring you. And it wouldn’t be a problem if you let me tell people.”

  He waves away my words. “That’s why I figured we can do our study sessions somewhere else. Somewhere private.”

  “Something a serial killer would say.”

  He gives me an exasperated look before rounding the front of the SUV to the passenger side. “This will solve my problem and yours.”

  “How so?” My feet are itching to follow him, to hop up into the car as he props the door open. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

  “You won’t have to lie and people won’t figure out what we’re doing so it saves me too.”

  “I don’t drive to secluded venues with boys I know nothing about.”

  He suppresses a growl and sends a matching glare back at me. “Do you want to text your mom a picture of my license plate? Or my home address? How about I give you a blood sample.” He steps out of the way and waves to the open door. “Or you climb inside and we leave before someone catches us and the gossip machine spits out something worse than a simple lunch together?”

  Damn. He’s right. I scan the parking lot to make sure no one is around. When I’m positive the coast is clear, I take a step toward him. It’s my feet’s choice. I have no say because as I close the distance between us, my brain keeps screaming this is a bad idea. “Fine. But only because lying has cost me one friend already. And since I only have two, I can’t afford to lose the other.”

  Brandon’s smile is triumphant and I get the sense he’s used to getting his way. Now more than ever I wish I had told him to shove it. I’ve laid out my hand and now if he wants to he’ll know how to manipulate me.

  He shuts the door the moment I’m inside. It feels as if he’s trying to leave before I change my mind. Of course that is ridiculous, and he’s probably trying to leave before someone sees us and a whole lot of questions pop up. Saving his own ass.

  “Where are we going?” I ask the moment he’s behind the wheel.

  With a smile, he eases out of the parking spot. “You’ll see.”

  Well, if that isn’t the most ominous answer I’ve ever heard…

  My fingers twitch around my phone. I kind of want to tell Zari what’s going on since she’s likely to notice my absence. I won’t be able to dodge her forever, not when I work with her tomorrow. Plus, she knows he’s being tutored. With that in mind, I send her a quick text telling her we are studying off campus.

  O
nce tomorrow comes, I’ll wish I never told her, but I feel better with someone knowing I left with him. Not that I expect him to be some crazy ax murderer even though that’s what I insinuated. But still anything could happen on the drive.

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you rationalize when you’re doing something that goes against rules set in place for years.

  Braden pulls onto the highway and in no time at all, houses are flying by at impressive speeds. The control freak in me wants to lean over to check how fast he’s going. Instead, I lean back and try not to breathe too deep since his car still smells overwhelmingly like him. Besides, if he gets a ticket, it’s on him.

  “So what happened in class today?” Braden asks after a few miles and a long stretch of uncomfortable silence.

  “What do you mean?” It’s not as if I can tell him my freak-out was in part because of him. That would just sound weird. What I should do is turn the tables on him and ask how he’s handling that photo. But that would make me no better than the rest of the school.

  “You kind of seemed…off.” His fingers drum on the gearshift.

  I try to pay attention to whatever beat he’s drumming instead of looking at him or answering, but after a few moments, I can feel his gaze on me. “It was nothing.”

  “Stella…” God I love the way my name sounds on his lips way too much. “You can tell me. I promise I’ll take it to my grave.

  Promise. I barely contain a snort. I’ve been promised things before. All pretty words in the moment that add up to little.

  “We don’t have to share things. I’m tutoring you but, no offense, that doesn’t make us friends.”

  I risk a glimpse in his direction. His eyes are on the road, but the sadness on his face is clear.

  “Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Just figured I could help or something. Should have known a girl like you doesn’t need help.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” Braden pulls off the highway and turns right.

  I glance around, trying to find the closest intersection so I know where he’s taking me, but he pulls into a parking lot. A giant wooden sign with the words Sugar House Park painted in white greets us.