He glanced around the parking lot, like he thought we were walking somewhere with a destination—but he wasn’t sure where it was. He seemed to think I knew.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
“Uh, at home.” I peeked up at him, “… I rode with friends.”
He ran a hand over his face with a rueful grin. He seemed embarrassed. “Sorry I dragged you out of there.”
“No,” I murmured sympathetically. “I get it.”
His grin flickered again, still faint and small. “Yeah. I guess you do.”
He gave me an indecisive look. “You want me to take you out for pizza?—since I made you leave your friends, and the game?” He raised his eyebrows, “Sorry, but I can’t let you go back in there—‘cause, you know, I promised her I’d do racy stuff with you.”
He was only teasing, of course, but the thought of him doing racy stuff with me made my heart pound wild.
I mentally shook my head, trying to snap out of the fantasy.
I cleared my throat and I tried to act amused. “Ohhh, the fake date. Is that a break-up ritual or something?” I self-mockingly teased, trying to sound super cheerful, to maybe lighten his spirits—if that was possible. “Be careful or I’ll announce it on the school’s loudspeaker.”
Again he grinned his faint little grin. Only then he shocked me by saying, “Who says it’s a ‘fake’ date?”
Immediately my heart exploded.
Hello, cupids and unicorns.
Get a grip, Mandy. He just two seconds ago broke up with his gorgeous girlfriend. He’s not trying to make a love connection; he’s just trying to hold it together.
I knew that feeling—had lived that feeling. Trying to smile and act okay while inside your heart is shattered and everything inside you is broken.
Poor Smith!
I tried to act unfazed by the thought of a real date with Smith—having him run his hands through my hair and kiss me lightly on the lips like he did with Chloe. Mmm.
However, instead of lunging at him, I announced playfully, “Well, technically when you go to a place with one girl, but leave with another—well, actually I don’t know what that technically is. But I’d say it’s not a real date—sounds pretty fake.”
“Okay, well, then you want to get a pizza and we’ll just talk?—commiserate?”
I nodded, liking the idea. A lot. But then I stopped suddenly, realizing something semi-disturbing that came from what I’d said earlier. “What about Chloe though?” I tilted my head. “How’s she going to get home? Didn’t she ride here with you?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, but she’s not leaving here with me.”
When I bit my lip, he drew out a breath. “Don’t give me that look, Mandy.” His adorable grin quirked. “It’s Chloe. She’ll find a ride home.”
Good point. If nothing else, I guess Teddy could pick her up and they could start their dirty stuff early. (Gag.)
In Smith’s car, I eagerly played Smith my favorite break up song.
He grinned at me, giving me a sideways half-sympathetic look. “The song is morbidly depressing, Mandy.”
“Right. Your heart is breaking right along with the singer’s right? She’s commiserating with us. ‘Cause she obviously just went through a horrible, heart-wrenching break up.”
Smith gave a soft laugh, “If I have to keep listening to this, I’m going to kill myself.”
“Right, that’s the way she feels, see? It’s torture. Makes you cry along with her.”
He gave me another sideways glance. “Why would you want to cry?”
I shrugged, not embarrassed to share my feelings with him right now. Since right now he was hurting and shattered too. “Sometimes it feels good to cry. To let your feelings out.”
“Okay,” he said softly, not sounding convinced, but as though he would concede that if it helped me he wasn’t going to bash it. It was almost as though he was pondering my words, trying to get me—understand my twisted mind.
It was actually nice.
At the pizza place I talked his ear off—doing exactly what he said: commiserating, though I did most of the talking. He seemed okay with that, though. He sat listening to me, his eyes on me in a way I couldn’t quite understand, but it was nice. Like I had his full attention. So, I figured I was being helpful, which turned me into a blabbermouth as it encouraged me to fully open up and talk on and on about how much it hurts to breakup with someone you love—you know, commiserating with him. Totally letting him know he wasn’t alone with his heartbreak, that I understood what he was going through.
The way he kept looking at me, so focused—yeah, it encouraged me to go on and on, pouring out my feelings. It was weird. I was able to talk with him in a way I hadn’t been able to talk with anyone else about my pain from Grady’s pitching me over for another girl. I hadn’t really even been able to fully talk about it with my friends. I mean, they were great. Super supportive and all that. But the thing was, they were all in perfect relationships. Nicole had the love of her life, Matt; Sara had Dane; Kayla had Ben. But suddenly, I didn’t have anyone. So it was nice talking to Smith, since suddenly (though probably just for this one, fleeting moment) he didn’t have anyone either. He had just broken up with a girl he had been faithful to—he had been cheated on. So he and I suddenly had something in common—heartbreak and betrayal.
Okay, Grady hadn’t technically cheated on me. But I still felt betrayed.
So, suddenly there was this bond I felt I shared with Smith. I knew it would only last tonight. He’d have a new girl in a heartbeat. But tonight he was hurting … and I was hurting. So, I felt close to him. Like I could open up to him.
So, I blurted out suddenly, “Can this be like a free pass night?”
His eyebrows shot up—high.
Um, he definitely got the wrong idea.
I quickly explained, “I mean, like a safe-zone or whatever. Where we can complain, and whine about, and even cry about our exes and our heartbreak without shame or judgment … and without talking about it afterwards—I mean, after tonight. We’ll just spill-out our heartbreak and sadness, and then go on tomorrow like always. Like we don’t even know each other.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”
“No, I just mean we’ll act like no words were ever said. We’ll just spill and …”
“—chill?” he finished for me.
“Yeah. Spill and chill.”
CHAPTER 58
SMITH
Smith
I didn’t really have that hurt and heartbreak stuff Mandy was talking about. But I knew she had it. Obviously. I mean, she fainted over seeing the guy with another girl … and you know, obviously needed to get her feelings out. I mean, if she was turning to me—the guy she clearly didn’t feel comfortable around. She obviously needed support. And an outlet.
Man, I was willing to be that. Her outlet. I felt kind of honored.
I mean, it was nice just having her talk to me, even if she seemed a little drunk or something. I knew she wasn’t though—drunk, I mean. Though I knew a lot of girls would turn to that in her situation, get drunk a lot and find the nearest guy. I mean, that’s what a guy would do—turn to a hot girl. (Which I was kind of doing … though I wasn’t in her situation, as I didn’t have a lot of ache in my heart … except for her and her tiny little trembling frown—that made my heart ache, not Chloe’s cheating on me.) (I didn’t give a cat about Chloe, by the way … it was basically over, she just saved me the trouble of having to let her down gently, which I was going to wait to do until after her birthday, as it was coming and I didn’t want her to have to be alone for it.)
Anyway, I’m digressing. What I was trying to say is, I knew Mandy wouldn’t get drunk, or go after a random hook up to feel better. She wasn’t that kind of a girl. Instead, she would hold it all in, and try to act like she was okay—but she wasn’t. I mean, she fainted.
CHAPTER 59
MANDY
MANDY
“It just hurt so much, you know?” I tell Smith when we get to my house. He had suggested maybe we should have our “free-zone” here since I had indicated we could cry and stuff. He thought that we might be more comfortable doing that in a more private place than Pizza Haven.
I, of course, happily agreed. It seemed like an awesome idea, and I felt kind of honored that he seemed to figure he might cry in front of me. Poor guy!
I was glad that my mom was on a business trip for the night. She loved Smith dearly, practically like a son, however I didn’t want anything to detour Smith if he needed to pour his poor heart out. I wanted to be there for him, and help him through this difficult time.
So, yeah—no mom. Good.
I swallow, then quickly go on with what I was telling him on the way home from the restaurant, since he seemed so interested—his eyes kept going over to me while he was supposed to be driving, like the things I was saying struck a chord in his hurting heart. “I couldn’t take the way I felt when Grady and I were still supposedly together—yet I could tell he was into Becca. It hurt so bad. At least now that we’re not ‘a couple’ it’s not so hurtful … or humiliating. I mean, at least now I’m not hopelessly, desperately, pathetically clinging to a perplexing, crumbling relationship. Not that I exactly want to right now, but at least I’m free to find someone else too—I mean, since he found someone else even while we were supposedly still together. It’s funny, but at least now—not having to try clinging to him and the drowning relationship—I don’t feel quite as lonely. And powerless. At least there’s that.”
Smith nods slightly, not saying anything, just looking into my eyes and letting me know he’s listening, and ready for me to go on with my rambling/wisdom.
So, I do.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I wish we were still together. Just not like it was at the end.” I shudder. “I never want to go through anything like that again. I felt so lost and abandoned—I mean, it’s painful, trying to cling to something you know isn’t there anymore. Grady’s love—I could feel it slipping away.”
I wrap my arms around my waist. “It hurt so bad.”
A tiny moan slips from Smith’s lips. His face is blotchy as he flicks his jaw muscles, staring at me with an unaccustomed frown. His eyes are full of sympathy … but something else too. Something I can’t quite read, but it’s soft and hypnotic and draws me in. I figure I must have struck another chord in his hurting, betrayed heart.
I jut my chin, my bottom lip quivering. “Was I wrong not to go along with what he wanted? I mean, I know we’re young and should be open to new experiences. It’s just I couldn’t bear that—to be with him knowing I was no longer ‘the one’ in his life. That I wasn’t as special to him.” I gaze into Smith’s staring eyes, curious to hear a guy’s take on the situation—Smith’s take. “Was I being unreasonable?”
Without his eyes leaving mine, he shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think so. I would love to find ‘the one.’ That would be awesome.”
He says softly, “When I find ‘the one’ I’m going to hold on to her—tight.”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s what I want. Him to hold on to me tight, like he used to. To only want me.”
Smith’s eyes go all unreadable and dazed for a second, then he clears his throat and shakes his head the slightest bit, but what he says is, “Yeah.”
That’s all he says. But he says it all husky and low. And my heart kind of breaks for him. Like he wants that too.
Tonight we’re the same. Sharing the same pain. I would hug him or something. Only it’s Smith, and, you know, I don’t want him to think he still needs to get a restraining order on me or anything.
So, I clear my throat, “Well, I guess that’s enough wallowing for the night. Don’t forget our pact—tomorrow none of this happened. Not a word about it. Ever.”
He grins slightly. “Mandy, if that’s the way you want it—okay. But if you want to talk … we’re friends. You can talk. No judgment.”
He nudges me coaxingly, “Remember, I know what happens when you see him with a girl.” He grins the gentlest teasing grin, “Are you even wearing underwear right now, or are they all in the school’s bathroom trashcan by now?”
“I have a pair on,” I mumble, then playfully add, “—well, I’m pretty sure.”
He glances at me with a teasing grin, “Want me to check for you?”
CHAPTER 60
I guess it was because Smith said I could go on talking about it—my pain from the break up—and he seemed genuinely sincere about it (so I thought maybe, perhaps it was a hint I was somehow helping him) so I (embarrassingly) did go on. On and on. It was like a dam burst inside me and I was finally letting my true emotions out.
It was therapeutic for me—like listening to the morbidly sad break-up songs that made me cry. But this was even better—actually talking about it. And it was with ultra-cool Smith who was—tonight—at this one fleeting moment—on the same heartbroken path as me. And although I knew our paths would go different ways tomorrow—he would find another girl by lunch, and I would go on being tortured and yearning for the only boy I wanted—still, tonight we were on the same path, so I took advantage of it—since he had urged me to. Basically told me to.
So here I am, in the middle of a rant, hearing myself say things I’ve already said to him at least three thousand times tonight. Though every time I say it, it’s a little different. I guess. I mean, the way he looks at me, it’s like he finds it interesting.
“Face it,” I weakly murmur, “there’s a huge difference between wanting someone from afar and never having them, than having had what you want and then having to secretly still want it; but now from afar.”
“Is there?” he says softly; gently. Not a note of irony in his tender voice. He shakes his head slightly at my incredulous gaze. “I really don’t know,” he says. “I don’t normally do things from ‘afar.’ I always go after what I decide I want. It’s just a lot of times after I get it, I decide it’s not really what I want.”
Yeah. His world is a lot different from mine (or most people’s).
“Must be nice in Smith-Land,” I grumble.
He smiles that way he does—like I’m five. “What?—nice to find out you’re clueless about what you want?”
“No. Nice to get everything you want.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, that’s nice,” he murmurs,
I can’t help grinning at that, which is kind of miraculous—me grinning.
Haven’t done that in a while.
CHAPTER 61
Spilling my guts out in “free-zone” Smith let me continue whining long after he probably expected. I mean, loooong after. He was so patient and quiet. It’s possible he might have even dozed off a bit, not having known what he was in for. Still, I needed to vent so I was grateful to him.
Finally, I gave him a sheepish grin. “You can go home now, Smith. Thanks.”
He stared at me sleepily. “You sure?”
He yawned, since it was long after midnight, and, you know, since I’d basically put him to sleep a couple times (probably). Drowsily he eyed me. “You set?” he asked softly. Like checking if I was okay to be left alone in my wallowing state.
I nodded, embarrassed, but grateful. “Yeah. I’m good, thanks. You’re a good listener.”
He stared at me sleepily, then said drowsily, “Yeah. That’s how I get all the cool girls.”
He yawned again, then scrubbed a hand over his face like he was trying to fully wake up. “Okay, I’m going to head home, and study for that test we have tomorrow in chemistry.”
“Oh right! The test,” I groaned.
He grinned slightly at my loud groan. (I mean, it was really loud and I’d flopped myself across the coach.)
“Yeah, the test,” he murmured eyeing me as though I was an adorable little kid. (He always did that—made me feel entertaining … and young.)
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go,” he said again, but he kept looking at me … and not actually m
oving.
Finally, he rubbed his face again, then said, “’Bye,” and was out the door before I could say anything back.
So, now here I am before second period, at my locker telling my friends about it. They think it’s incredibly sweet, of course, and have big smiles on their faces, but they also have slight worried expressions that creep up every now and then too. Maybe because I got zero sleep last night, due to my wee-hours ‘spill and chill’ with Smith, and then my frantic cramming for the chemistry test. I’m still wearing yesterdays outfit, and the only thing I’ve eaten since last night’s pizza (which I could barely eat any of—because I was with Smith, and he kept staring at me) (Mmm) Anyway, all I’ve put in my stomach since then is this concoction I made that’s full of caffeine—lots, and lots of caffeine. So, I’m buzzing big time, and talking a mile a minute. Though it’s not all due to the caffeine. Of course. I mean, hello. I spent practically the entire night with Smith. With his eyes on me. That has me buzzing big time all by itself—no need for the caffeine drink I frantically threw together before heading out the door to bomb my test. (Well, I hope I don’t.) (Of course.)
They also might be looking at me the way they are because of our school’s social pages. Last night I read on there a post from our school’s new “cheerleader.” She had posted in bold: “You know that saying?—three’s a crowd? Well, apparently, Mandy Hall hasn’t. Get a life Mandy!!—stop clinging to my boyfriend!!”
“What a freak to write that!” Nicole had said. “I mean, he was your boyfriend.”
She sounded all indignant. Which I loved her for. Last night when I read that post—I just hadn’t expected it, at all—my stomach dropped, and felt like it had been punched. Then after that, for hours, I’d had violent flashes between anger and pain. Only, I didn’t have time to dwell on it as much as you’d think, because, you know, I had a test to fail (uh, I mean, study for).
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