The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  ***

  Dedicated to the man in my life who would Do Anything for me. I love you Joshua.

  ***

  As the rain falls on the metal roof, I stare, my head cocked back sharply in the chair I am slouching in, and watch as the droplets gather together in the ridges of the skylights, veining outward across the glass. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here; it seems time has lost meaning in recent days. I run my fingers over the tan line on my finger. I don’t need to look at it because the place where the ring had been has become an obsession. I’ve tried everything to lighten it. I scrubbed it with soap, and I even tried bleaching the area in hopes it would fade, even slightly. All it did was give me a headache and leave my skin dry and irritated.

  I hear Kenzie running around my apartment frantically, rambling on about something or other, but I tuned her out at least twenty minutes ago. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not sure where I’d be without her. She is the one person who has been there for me through all of the drama; it’s just that sometimes she can go over the top with the pep talks. A girl can only hear ’you need to get back up on that horse,’ or ’there are plenty more fish in the sea,’ so many times before she wants to physically remove her ears from her head.

  On the other hand, when I told my parents what happened, they expressed what a shame it was and how much they liked Jack. Leave it to them to point out the strong qualities of a man who pulled my heart out of my chest cavity before stomping it into a thousand pieces.

  I know they had undeniably truthful arguments, but even though there were a lot of amazing qualities about Jack, there were some things that couldn’t ever be undone. I met him during college; I was a freshman and he was a senior. He had the greatest smile I’d ever seen. You know, one of those where the teeth are so perfect and white that you can’t imagine they’re natural, but then there was a slight lift on one corner of his mouth that made it all come together perfectly. He came from a prominent political family, and I couldn’t believe out of all the girls on campus, he noticed me. It really is such a cliché when you think about it.

  He was smart and funny; he always knew what to say in a crowd of people. I’d preferred the characters in my books to the real thing. People made me nervous—they always had. But not Jack, and I never had to worry about other people, because I always had him.

  When we met, I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, but that didn’t matter to him. He had been so suave about it, too. I didn’t even know his name, but one day, while reading at the campus cafe, he came over and asked, “Should we meet there, or do you prefer I pick you up?”

  “Excuse me?” I’d asked.

  “This Friday, at six ... oh, I mean, I assumed you would be going.”

  I had peered at him, quite puzzled, but he didn’t miss a beat. “You must have me confused with someone else,” I assured him.

  He looked around the cafe, then pressed his finger against the book I’d been holding. “Nope, you’re the only girl around here I see reading a Jonathan Franzen novel.”

  “What?” I remember my voice had cracked slightly when I spoke.

  “He’ll be signing at the campus library this weekend, and I assumed you were a fan given what you’re reading. But hey, if you don’t want to go, I guess I can go by myself.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “About Franzen or the date?” That was the first time I saw that sly and captivating smile from him, that lip that curled at the edges. I wanted to climb into the tiny ridges around his lips and stay nestled there for an eternity.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, wishing I could erase the memory from my mind somehow. Jack wasn’t someone you could just forget, though. I didn’t even want a boyfriend, yet after only three dates I was certain I was going to marry him one day. He popped the question at my graduation last year. Life had seemed so perfect in that moment. Jack could be very romantic, but he was also the practical type. I liked that about him. He wanted to finish law school before we took the leap, and now with his bar exam right around the corner, the wedding plans had moved full steam ahead.

  While I love romance novels, I wasn’t the little girl who had always dreamed of her wedding day and what it would be like. In fact, the details of the actual day concerned me very little. I just wanted to get through the event and move on with our lives together. I didn’t have any family here in Chicago, so Kenzie took care of a lot of the planning. My mother, who lived in Ohio, didn’t seem to mind either. This was not surprising, considering we had never been what you would call close.

  Had Kenzie not been planning the wedding for me, I’m not sure I would have ever discovered Jack’s dirty little secret. Would I have been at our apartment when he didn’t expect me to be, had she not sent me home from the office in the middle of a workday to pick up the measurements for the bridesmaid dresses? I’d forgotten the paper on the counter that morning, and despite several attempts at calling Jack to request he bring them to me, I found myself begrudgingly making the trek home. To think, had I not, I may have never known about Jack’s study sessions. He was supposed to be cramming for the bar, but instead I discovered him in our bed, cramming himself into our across-the-hall neighbor, a blonde bombshell who looked like a Swedish super model. I can still hear the sounds of them going at it.

  The only thing I have in common with the woman is our long hair. Hers was a pale yellow in color with a silken texture, while mine is wavy and coarse with deep chestnut tones. Her skin was tanned while mine is pale; her eyes blue, mine brown; her features slight all the way down to her slender nose, while a round ball sat at the tip of mine. I’m not ugly, and I’ve never thought of myself that way. Well, not until I saw this naked goddess in my bed. That moment had definitely been a solid blow to my self-esteem.

  I think I handled it well. Okay, no, I didn’t handle it well at all. When I first walked into the condo I heard them. Initially I thought an intruder was lurking around our place, and my heart had begun to race. Quickly, I realized exactly what type of noises I was hearing, so I then thought I had walked into the wrong apartment. Somehow, in that moment, it was making sense in my mind ... that my key had fit into someone else’s lock and worked. I never said I was thinking rationally. Then I saw a picture on a side table—the one of Kenzie and me during our vacation to Mexico senior year.

  It was confirmed that this was my apartment, these were my things, and whoever was making those noises was in my bedroom. What would Jack do when he found out someone was using our apartment to have random stranger sex? When I walked into the room I wasn’t exactly quiet, but neither were they, so I went unnoticed. I just stood there, watching. Honestly, I still have no idea why I watched. It was a horrific display, like two wild animals pawing at each other, but I was helpless, a captive prisoner, forced to stare at the sweaty primal union.

  The next part is where I like to gloss over the details when I tell people about what happened. I’m pretty sure most people would have started shouting and screaming at their cheating partner, or perhaps just turn and leave. Oh God, why didn’t I just leave? I walked up to the edge of our bed, the entire time thinking about completely pointless details, like how that bed was the first thing we had purchased together in our relationship. I suppose I was hoping one of them would notice me and stop the appalling display. And luckily, Jack did see me, eventually. He rolled off Elsa, or whatever the hell her name was, and started screaming at me.

  I’m not sure what he was saying, but knowing Jack, he was probably making excuses. I couldn’t hear him because I was busy regurgitating the burrito I’d had for lunch on the way over to the apartment. Not only did I vomit, but I managed to spray it all over the bed, thoroughly dousing Jack and his Swedish Barbie. It was at that point I turned and ran out of the apartment, not looking back. I can still remember their faces; it’s one of the few things that gives me satisfaction when I think back on the horrific memory. As embarrassing as it is to vomit on someone, I can’t imagine it being nearly as traumatizing
as being the recipient of the discharge.

  What happened after I ran out is a blur. Somehow I’d managed to give the low down to Kenzie over the phone, who in turn came and found me at a local Mexican joint somewhere between greasy taco number four and five. I stayed with her that night, which was terrible considering she recently had to move back in with her parents due to her shopping addiction and lack of money management skills. The entire night her mother brought me baked goods and kept asking me if I was all right. Every time I would try to answer her, it came out as a whimper, which would just send her running back into the kitchen to bake more. I have no clue how Kenzie is so slender after growing up with that woman and her incessant need to cure sadness with brownies.

  The next day Kenzie had gone with me to deliver the official break up speech. I’m not sure if I could have resisted his charms in my current state of mind; for that, I will always be grateful to her. Jack pulled out all of the typical statements one would expect in a situation like that. ’It was just that one time,’ which of course I didn’t believe, and ’I still love you,’ which again, I didn’t believe and was now quite confident the slime-ball had never loved me. The condo was in my name since I was the one with an actual job while he was in law school, so I told him to get his crap and be out by the time I got back. For dramatic effect, I also threw the engagement ring at him. I remember the sound as it bounced across the wooden floors. I half expected it to be waiting for me on the counter when I returned, but it and Jack were gone.

  Jack wasn’t one to take things lying down. The next morning he was back, begging for another chance, asking to come home. I still shudder when I think about the display that happened on our front stoop. It was worthy of the Jerry Springer show. I stood quietly while Kenzie berated Jack for being a piece of scum. He tried attacking Kenzie, telling her to mind her own business, but that only made my conviction in what I was doing all the stronger. The last thing I had said to him was, “Please, just go. I don’t love you anymore.” I think he knew I was lying, but he left. Maybe he thought time and space would cause me to change my mind.

  Looking back, it didn’t feel like I was actually in my body. I couldn’t imagine myself saying or doing any of that when it came to Jack. But I did, and these past four weeks Kenzie has been my rock. Even when I hatched my crazy scheme of finding myself, she was there, backing up my decision with nothing but support.

  I have—had—a job I loved. I was an editor for a publishing house. I loved books, so it was like a dream job for me. When I told Kenzie my plan to quit my job and travel the world, I’ll admit she flipped out at first, but once I explained she could live in the condo for half the mortgage payment, she was sold. I think she would have done anything to get out from under her parents’ roof. I like to think she also believed in the idea, but I’m not even sure I think it’s that great of an idea, so I didn’t push the subject.

  You probably shouldn’t make major life decisions right after your heart is broken. In fact, that’s probably written in many self-help books. But that’s exactly what I did. Two weeks ago I decided Chicago, and all the things in it, were merely painful reminders of Jack and our history together. I wanted to go somewhere I could get back in touch with the real me. It made sense two weeks ago, but now I’d realized something—something that was even scarier than a life without Jack. I have no clue who I am, and I’m not sure if I ever did. I met Jack so young, and he became part of my identity while it was still forming.

  How do you find yourself again if you’re not sure who the hell you ever were? I began selling my possessions, at least as many as I could in two weeks. While I’m away, Kenzie can sell more for me. This money will help pay the other half of the mortgage and bills she needs help with while I’m gone. I also have some savings; after all, Jack always told me I needed to be responsible for the sake of our future.

  I also decided to take the money Jack’s parents had given us for the wedding and use it to fund my travels. Now, I hadn’t actually gotten permission for this last part, but honestly, after what went down between us, I doubted anyone was going to say anything. I even had the funds in my personal account for the honeymoon. If I live frugally, it should be enough to keep me going for quite a while.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Kenzie demands, her wavy red hair bouncing up and down as she speaks.

  “Huh? I mean, yeah, of course I am.”

  “You’re such a terrible liar. You have your passport, right?”

  “Yes, I have my passport, for the tenth time,” I huff, sitting up in the chair, noticing a noise outside my window.

  “Then we better get moving. The cabbie has been honking for so long I think his head might explode if we keep him waiting any longer,” she informs me, glancing out the bay window and waving at the impatient driver through the rain.

  I smile. I can’t believe this is actually it. I’m saying goodbye to my home, to my friend, to the only life I’ve ever known as an adult, and setting off for the unknown.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, standing and looking at her. Kenzie’s eyes look wet. She’s always very emotional, so we are a great balance to one another.

  “Oh, shut up already, this is what friends do.” She waves me off, her voice cracking slightly.

  “Especially when they get cheap rent on an apartment in exchange,” I jest, trying to smile, though my heart isn’t in it.

  “Well, there is that.” Kenzie laughs, tossing my backpack over her shoulder and grabbing an umbrella from the stand next to the door. “Come on, let’s not start with goodbyes. It’s just going to piss me off or make me cry. I don’t know which, but one of the two.”

  I follow Kenzie down the stairs, glancing at the door across the hall. I wonder if Elsa the Barbie would report back to Jack I was leaving on a trip. I don’t want to wonder anything about him ... or her for that matter. Damn him.

  “So I never asked you, why England?” Kenzie inquires as she hands my bag to the impatient cab driver.

  “Why not? Seemed like as good a place as any,” I reply, staring at her, wishing I could take her with me. “Plus I thought it was a good idea to start with a place where I could speak the language.”

  “Excellent reasoning my dear.” Kenzie giggles, shifting the umbrella to her other hand. “Call me as soon as you get there, promise?”

  “Of course.” As I hug her, it feels like I might never see her again. I know this isn’t true, but everything has begun to feel so uncertain in my life. I’m ready for an adventure—ready to become the heroine in the books I love to read. Now if I can manage to make it to England without having an all-out panic attack, everything will be perfect. At this point, I’d do anything to forget what has happened, and I’m confident the answers I seek lie over the ocean.

  ***

  I’ve lost track of the number of times Kenzie has called or texted me since I landed. Her concern has become smothering. I’ve done as promised and checked in with her as soon as I’d arrived, but that has not been enough for her.

  Kenzie and I went to high school together. She has been a fixture in my life since we were crawling in and out of each other’s windows as kids. Part of the baggage that comes along with a friendship that is as seasoned as ours is that you know each other’s dirty little secrets. Mine was my mother. She wasn’t what I would exactly call terrible, but she definitely was not born with a maternal instinct. Kenz always picked up on this and, in a way, she tried to fill that role for me on and off. Which is hilarious considering she has her act together the least out of anyone I know.

  She is going to ask me about my next step. But I have no plan, and in some ways I think that’s the point. The places in the beloved books I treasure so much are going to be part of my adventures now. I’m not going to read about the world outside of Chicago anymore; I’m going to experience it firsthand. I’m going to get some stamps in my passport, put some stories in my journal. I’m going to live.

  So really, I suppose I do have a plan. The plan
is to live and not think about Jack and that—my stomach twists as I remember the image of them in bed together. It was all I could see for the first couple days afterward. Replaying it over and over again in my mind. I am finally keeping the flashes to a limit of a few times per day. It still makes me want to retch each time the images creep in.

  How do I make Kenzie understand she’s part of home, and for now, part of that life I need to leave back in the States? Perhaps I’m fooling myself and running from my life won’t bring me any peace at all, but I feel like I need to be doing something. Not sitting in the home I shared with the man I thought I was going to marry. Not loathing myself for not being the woman who could make him happy.

  As I make my way through customs, a nice, older gentleman with a large round belly asks me if I’m in England on business or pleasure. I laugh and go into a quick story of how I’m not exactly sure. I proceed to explain, much to his dismay, that my fiancé had recently cheated on me, and this was a bit of a soul-searching trip. After staring at me with a gaze full of pity, he ushers me through without another word.

  The ride to the hotel isn’t much better. When putting my luggage in the back, the driver asks if I’m alone. While the question is harmless, I can’t help but slip into my dark place. I begin crying, and though the poor guy tries his best to console me, I assure him through my blanket of tears that I’m all right.

  My chest feels tight and it’s as though I’m in a constant struggle to catch my breath. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my relationship with Jack, and I keep wondering if I’m upset because I loved him or because I trusted him.

  In books, when it’s true love—the kind that makes angels sing and women quiver with delight—there is never an ending like mine. Could I have been in love with a man who could trample my heart like he had? How could I have not seen it coming? If I loved him, like I thought I did, wouldn’t I have sensed his unhappiness? I wish the questions in my mind would silence themselves, but they seem to be multiplying.