The Truth About Heartbreak

by Celeste, B.

  She shrugs. “I think that’s when we started having problems. His version of fun and mine are different. I thought he should go out and do stuff to get his mind off his family, but he wanted to sit around and mope. Then when I went out, he would get all pissed that I wasn’t with him. But I … guess I sort of get it. I remember what you said at your birthday party I went to, about how family is important. I’m not an idiot like a lot of people believe. Everett loved his grandpa more than anything in the world, more than me. Nothing I could do would make him feel better.

  “You know, when he left Bridgeport for college, I thought for sure we’d break up, but he didn’t want to. He said he needed something that connected him to home. It made me feel loved for once in my life. That’s when I really knew how I felt, that I knew we were meant to be together forever.”

  He wanted something that connected him to home. The words sucker punch me in the gut. I was fourteen when he left. What did I expect? I couldn’t be that person for him.

  I know he and Isabel visited each other a lot and would hang out with Oliver and the other friends they made at Penn. Ollie would tell me how annoying she was whenever we chatted over the phone and mention how he’s surprised Everett can stand her clingy personality.

  “But yeah,” she concludes as she slows down to pull onto the street I live on, “I love him. I probably shouldn’t, because he doesn’t show it, but I never exactly had the role models to show me what real love is anyway. Despite how weird he’s been with me lately, I think he loves me too. Just in his own unique way.”

  He says he does.

  But do I believe it?

  She puts the car in park outside Painter’s Choice and turns to me. “I know you don’t owe me anything. I haven’t been very nice to you over the years. Or, you know, at all. But can you try convincing Everett to just tell me how he feels. Really tell me. I don’t want to guess anymore.”

  My heart thumps so loudly in my chest I wonder if she hears it. It hurts, and I’m half-tempted to peer down to see if I can watch it propel right out of me.

  She stares at me.

  Thumpthump.

  Her brows raise.

  Thumpthump.

  My lips part. “I-I’ll see what I can do.”

  Her smile is weirdly genuine.

  “T-Thanks for the ride.”

  When I’m safely inside my pitch-black apartment, I sit on the couch. There’s a weight on my chest that has been lingering since the night Everett stayed over. Since we …

  Closing my eyes, I brush my fingers where I feel like a red A should be.

  It’s ironic that I stole Everett’s copy of The Scarlet Letter when I was thirteen. I lied about finishing it. I wonder if Hester ever gets her happily ever after?

  Oliver’s twenty-seventh birthday get-together doubles as his going-away party. On May third, the day before his actual birthday, everyone gathers in the backyard of the James estate and barbecues, swims, drinks, and celebrates Oliver’s achievements.

  Everett is late. Not that I’m looking for him. It’s just hard not to notice someone so prominent missing. Plus, I’ve been avoiding him. Or, trying to. Ever since Isabel asked me to talk to him for her, I haven’t given myself a chance to be alone with him. Deep down, I know I owe it to her to fix whatever they do have between them.

  After all, Everett makes choices every day to stay with her. The glaring truth is that he’ll always pick her, whether he believes I’m his or not.

  He called me the day after Isabel dropped me off and asked how I was. I told him I had to go, that class was starting. It wasn’t. Then he texted me the same night and asked if I was at the studio. I told him I was meeting up with friends. Afraid he would come by, I forced myself out with a few people I go to school with. I had water, they had shots, and I went home an hour later so it wasn’t a lie.

  Two days ago, Melanie mentioned that Everett stopped by to see me. I actually was out with a study group preparing for a final exam. I never called him back or answered his text when I got home. I ate, changed, and went to bed.

  I don’t like not talking to Everett. But keeping quiet seems like the logical option. If I do what Isabel asks, I risk losing him forever. If I don’t … well, the fantasy lasts.

  But so does the guilt.

  One of the girls I hung out with the other night during our study group, Emma, asked if I’d be willing to go out with one of her guy friends. She wants to do a double date, and go bowling, but I told her I’d have to think about it.

  I should say yes. I haven’t been bowling before, as embarrassing as that is to admit. I should text her and say that I would love to go, because how else am I going to move on from the man I can’t have?

  But you did have him.

  And therein lies the problem. For one night, for less than twelve hours, I had Everett Tucker. I felt his smooth skin and his hard edges and his gentle touches and demanding kisses. One night would never be enough.

  But it will have to be.

  Pulling out my phone, I click on Emma’s name and take a deep breath. If you still want to do that double date, I’m in.

  I don’t wait for her response before turning off my phone and setting it on the plastic table by the lounge chair. Walking over to the pool, I sit on the edge and sink my legs into the heated water.

  It’s unusually warm for May. The winter was rough, nothing like the nonexistent one I had when I first arrived here. It stayed below zero the better half of December and January, and stormed and flurried most of February and March. Thankfully, California saved me from most of the horrid temperatures. April couldn’t decide what it wanted to do, but as soon as May hit, it was sunny skies and eighty-degree weather.

  Someone splashes me and laughs. Looking over, I see Oliver swimming over to me with a wicked smile splicing his face in two. When I see the mischief flash in his brown eyes, I try pushing away but I’m too late.

  He yanks on my leg until I’m pulled into the water with him. Thankfully, I’m wearing a dark t-shirt and cut off shorts. Nothing would show, not my scars or something inappropriate.

  Steph kept her promise to teach me how to swim. We used her pool and she showed me how to float and then doggy paddle. She never made me wear swimsuits, though I have occasionally. Only around her, since she knows what I hide on my skin anyway. I keep a few suits at her house for when I want to cool off when she visits her parents, but that’s not often these days. She got a job as a personal assistant to some rising Hollywood actor in Cali.

  Oliver laughs when I try brushing my hair out of my face, but its heavy and sticking to my cheeks. “You look like a drowned dog.”

  Frowning, I wring it out. “I wonder why.”

  He feigns innocence.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” I murmur, swimming back over to the edge and leaning against the side.

  Leave it to Ollie to move on his birthday. I guess he’ll be starting his new job first thing Monday morning, so he wants to give himself time to settle into the apartment and get a lay of the land. That means in twenty-four hours, I’ll have to say goodbye to the very first person who I considered a friend.

  He swims up next to me, mimicking my casual stance and throwing his arms up to rest against the warm pavement. His hair is wet, making the brown shade look almost black. Little droplets of water cascading off his body hit the patio behind him and dissolve instantly.

  “It does seem pretty crazy.” His eyes rake the yard, like he’s memorizing every nook and cranny.

  I nudge his side with my elbow. “I’m going to miss you, Ollie.”

  His eyes turn to me and a soft smile tips his lips, making his little dimple pop out. I wish I had one like it. Robert has one too, on the opposite side.

  “I’ll miss you too.” He splashes me with water, making me laugh and splash him back. “I know it’ll be pretty weird here for a while, but you can always call me. Okay? We can Facetime if you want, too.”

  My nose scrunches. He knows how m
uch I hate technology. But I will take him up on the offer to call. We may not talk often as it is now because I don’t like being a bother, but not speaking to him at all may kill me.

  Before I say anything, his attention shifts behind us. “Well, it’s about time.”

  Brows pinched, I turn to see what he’s talking about. Everett is shaking hands with one of Robert’s friends. His dark wash jeans fit his long legs well and the plain white tee hugs his muscular arms in a way that has my heart doing little flips in my chest. Pressing my lips together, I wait for Isabel to walk out behind him from the house.

  She doesn’t.

  Oliver hops out of the pool, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Like noticing how Everett’s hair looks brown today, and I wonder if it’s wet like he just got out of the shower or if he has some sort of gel in it. The top kinda flops everywhere like it’s styled, so my guess is the hair products.

  Ollie and Everett clap hands and say something to each other. I force my gaze away and stare at the rippling water as I move my palm back and forth. It distracts me, which is what I need.

  Suddenly, a wet strand of hair is flicked off my shoulder. My gaze snaps up to Everett, who’s kneeling next to me. One of his tan elbows is resting on his bent knee; the other is hanging loose beside him. His smile is white and broad and friendly.

  He looks … different.

  “Hey, River.”

  “Hi.” My eyes go around him. “So, um, where is Isabel?”

  His lips twitch microscopically. “She couldn’t make it.”

  I can only think to nod. Not letting my mind take me to the reason for her absence, I note someone waving in our direction. Reid something-or-other. Another friend of Robert.

  When Oliver notices him, he waves back and tells us he’ll catch up with us later. Leaving Everett and me alone is not a good idea. Who knows what will leave my mouth?

  As Ollie gets farther away, I feel my heart pick up speed. Every surface of my body becomes hyperaware of how close Everett is. Even if my brain tells me to stay away from him, my body … I’ve never been able to control my reaction to him.

  He doesn’t give me a chance to speak. “I was hoping we could talk. Do you mind?”

  I swallow. “Um, now?”

  “Preferably.”

  “Here?”

  He rubs his jaw. “I was actually thinking somewhere quieter. Want to go inside? It looks like you could dry off.”

  Déjà vu hits me, taking me back to the night of my graduation party. It was the first time Everett touched me in a less-than-innocent way. I felt my mouth burn where he touched me for months after that.

  The tiny voice in my head tells me not to do it; to turn him down instead. What could he possibly have to say to me? But I shut that voice away, and let Everett help me out of the pool and into the house.

  To my surprise, Everett follows me upstairs. When I get to my room, I glance over my shoulder at him. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and his expression is light, eased compared to normal.

  “I can wait …”

  Shaking my head, I blow out a tiny breath as I open my door. “I’ll, uh, change in the bathroom. You can come in.”

  Bad idea, my inner voice tells me.

  I ignore it.

  He follows me in and sits on my old bed. I still have clothes hanging in the closet for when I stay here, so I grab a white sundress with yellow sunflowers on it and head into the bathroom.

  It doesn’t take me long to peel out of my wet clothes and dry off. I’m in my sundress with my wet hair in a bun and heading back toward the door in less than five minutes. Everett is still sitting on the edge of my mattress, his long legs bent over the side and arms resting beside him as he leans back. When I walk out, he straightens and smiles.

  “You look …” His eyes take in the basic cotton dress. It stops mid-thigh, probably too short to wear, but it’ll keep me cool. “Beautiful,” he finishes in a quiet tone.

  Rubbing my wrist, I take a seat next to him. Our legs accidently brush and my heart bursts, forcing me to take a sharp breath.

  Walk away, the voice commands.

  I sit still.

  Everett turns, his leg lifting slightly on the bed, so his knee is pressed against my upper thigh. Swallowing seems hard when all of my emotions are crammed into my throat.

  His large hand rests on his knee. “Isabel went back to her parents’ house last night. We, uh, got into a pretty bad argument.”

  I stop breathing.

  His eyes sweep the room. “She hasn’t called or texted and I think …” Finally, we lock eyes. “No, I know that we’re through. She never leaves. And she has every right.”

  Tell him you don’t care, the voice pleads.

  But I do.

  “You broke up?” My voice is nothing more than a raspy whisper. The words taste funny in my mouth and my heart doesn’t drum as hard as I thought it would.

  His head bobs once.

  Oh my God.

  Isabel and Everett broke up.

  Everett is in my old room.

  His hand moves to mine, which rests on the comforter between us. He links our fingers, and the sensations tingling down my arm make my heart start beating faster in my chest with anticipation.

  “W-What does that mean?”

  He shifts closer, his nose nuzzling my ear until I think I die a little. “It means that I can do this without you pushing me away.”

  I don’t get a chance to ask him what he means before his lips are crushing mine in a heated, rough, all-consuming kiss. My lips part almost immediately and his tongue slips in and tangles with mine. I moan when he threads his fingers in my hair and bites down on my lower lip. He tastes like peppermint and smells like pine, which means he spent time at his Granddad’s old cabin.

  He grips my hips and lifts me until I’m straddling his lap. One of his arms hooks around my waist as the other dives back into my hair for a bruising kiss. My body takes over and shuts out the voice that’s begging me to stop this madness, grinding into his hardness that’s pressing against the softest part of me.

  A low, hungry growl is what I’m rewarded with. I rock my hips over him again until his fists tighten in my hair and he tips my head back and nips my neck.

  “Fuck, you feel amazing on top of me,” he groans, meeting my movements until we’re both panting.

  I’m burning with need between my legs, trying to get the friction I so desperately desire to ease the pressure.

  “Everett,” I plea, threading my fingers through his hair and keeping the rhythm I’ve set against his erection. The rough material of his jeans has my eyes rolling back as my movements become jerky.

  Before the night with Everett, I only fooled around a little with one guy. Before that was Asher Wilks when I was sixteen. My experience is limited, and it makes this need so much stronger.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, his kisses becoming sweeter, gentler, as he slips a hand between us. My hips push into his palm as he reaches under my dress and moans when he realizes I never put on panties.

  “So fucking wet,” he notes as he runs his fingers over my slick heat and circles my clit in slow, circular motions. I’m so turned on it isn’t funny. In fact, it actually hurts, this need for him. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, and when he finally slides his fingers into my arousal, I buck my hips into him and ride out the sensations.

  He slides one finger in and out of me until I’m whimpering his name and digging my fingertips into his scalp. When he slides in a second finger and hooks them, I gasp loudly and writhe on his lap.

  “Beautiful,” he repeats in a strangled voice, kissing me and claiming me and picking up the pace with his fingers.

  I ride his hand, meeting him thrust for thrust until my legs start to quake. “Oh God, Everett. That feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I-I’m going to—”

  I don’t finish the sentence before he circles my clit with his thumb and presses down, making me come
harder than I ever have before. I’m about to cry out loudly when he captures my mouth with his, drowning out the orgasm with a searing kiss.

  He keeps his fingers inside me as I ride out the wave and my hips settle again, and then pulls them out ever so slowly, kisses me gently, and puts both of his fingers in his mouth. His eyes flash as I watch him taste me. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and mixed with my pounding heart, I think it might just end me.

  Before we can say anything, Bridgette calls my name. Her voice sounds close, like she’s nearing my room. Jumping off Everett’s lap, I panic and look around.

  “The bathroom!” I whisper, yanking on his arm to get him to move with no luck.

  Amusement flickers across his face as he watches me have a heart attack. “I’m not hiding, River. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Bridgette’s heels click right outside my bedroom and the knob turns with a soft knock before cracking open.

  Everett quickly adjusts himself in his jeans and leans back, looking innocent like we didn’t just fool around in my childhood bedroom.

  Bridgette peeks in and smiles when she sees us. “Oh. Hi, Everett. Sorry, I was just checking in. Someone said you were up here changing.” She turns to me, seemingly not suspicious of anything. “If you give me your soaked clothes, I’ll throw them in the wash for you to take home before the night is over.”

  Nodding, I turn on my heel to collect my clothes that are heaped in a pile on the bathroom floor. Before I head back in, I stop short when I hear Bridgette talking to Everett.

  “Isabel is downstairs,” she tells him softly, causing me to hold my breath. “She says she’s been trying to reach you. You better go see her, she looks worried.”

  I told you so, the voice murmurs.

  Tears well in my eyes. Everett sees me standing in the cracked doorway, his eyes hollow and wide. Did they really break up or did he just tell me that?

  Jaw quivering, I fight off the tears. Taking a deep breath, I walk out and pass Bridgette my clothes.

  She pulls my cell out of her pocket. “I saved this from getting wet. Your brother is showing the young Calloway twins how to do cannon balls in the pool.”