Breaking Hearts (B-boy #3)

by S. Briones Lim

  I’d never had a co-ed sleepover before that didn’t involve seeing someone’s penis, so this should be fairly interesting.

  My breaths were shallow as I waited for Asher to settle in. I had no idea how to even approach this situation. Do I talk? Hum lullabies? Plot the discovery of uncharted universes?

  “So about your piece,” he called out.

  Thank God…

  “I think it’s awesome.”

  I blinked in surprise. “How can you even say that? It’s horrible.”

  “I heard you playing it the other night, remember? I don’t know why you don’t think it’s ready to play for Damien. It’s great just the way it is.”

  I made a face, knowing he couldn’t see it in the dark. “I…I’m a perfectionist.”

  “I get that.”

  “But?” I sighed, starting to regret not insisting him be moved to the living room.

  “But sometimes what makes the best things in life awesome is their lack of perfection.”

  I frowned, my Type A personality rearing it’s perfectly coiffed head. “I can go along with disorder. I’m not that neurotic,” I argued. “Why else do you think I went along with this whole trip down superstition lane? I was totally out of my comfort zone.”

  “I’m not putting you down for wanting things orderly,” he interrupted. “In fact, I’m the same way myself. Why else do you think I push people away so I can focus on b-boy practice instead? I want my moves at their absolute best.”

  “So you’re exactly like me,” I replied, hoping he couldn’t hear the smile in my voice.

  “To an extent.”

  I propped myself up onto my elbow and frowned down at him, making out the shadows of my furniture that covered his face. “You practice to make sure things are as good as they’re going to get. You ignore relationships for the sake of your craft. How are you not like me?”

  “I practice for the sake of muscle memory, Mallory. I practice so that when I’m out there in the midst of a battle, my body won’t fail me. Like any other athlete, I prepare myself mentally and physically to be ready for the big game. The thing is these games and battles are unpredictable. You practice to be prepared and no other reason.”

  I threw myself back onto my mattress and huffed. “Playing the piano is hardly a game to me, Asher.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “Huh?” He was seriously trying my patience.

  “Maybe that’s where you’re doing it all wrong. Maybe it should be a game.”

  “Oh yeah, because the one thing that I’m hoping to rely on to make an honest living is nothing but some game of freeze tag or tic-tac-toe.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” he groaned. The air mattress squeaked underneath him, sounding like Styrofoam rubbing together. I shuddered, scowling at the auditory abuse. “When I’m out there on the dancefloor, anything can happen. It’s unpredictable, and that’s what makes those competitions so raw and real.”

  “I still don’t know how this can be applied to my music.”

  “Your muscles know your music well. Your fingers know where the keys are.”

  “So?”

  “Get your head out of it! Don’t sit there thinking of how this or that. Break free from your mental constraints.” His voice grew louder, dripping with conviction.

  “Shhh! Keep it down. I have roommates, you know.” I stiffened, listening for any signs of them.

  “Sorry,” he said quietly. He pushed himself off the plastic bed and slowly walked over to me, bending his body in what had to be the slowest move possible until both hands were placed firmly at the foot of my bed as he stared up at me. He dropped his voice, almost whispering. “There are no rehearsals for marathons and no rehearsals for football games. There shouldn’t be any rehearsals, at least not of your caliber for piano. I mean, don’t you think actors adlib?”

  “I can’t just throw in a B flat where an A sharp is needed,” I said with a scowl.

  “But what I’m saying is just like how I am with breakdancing; you can tweak your performance based on the music. Each one of my moves is set. If I throw down the wrong arm, it’d be another move completely.”

  “But if you throw the wrong arm it is another move. If I hit the wrong key it sounds like garbage!” I snapped back.

  He turned the corners of his lips down and nodded slowly. “True. But I’m talking about feeling the music and letting it dictate everything else other than your notes. Your posture, your emotions—for once hear the music instead of worrying about playing it right. You keep talking about your love for piano, but do you really feel that love?”

  “Um…of course I do.” What a dumb question.

  “Are you sure?” His tone was dripping with doubt. “Or is it becoming work? A chore? When was the last time you played the piano for fun and not for the sake of practicing?”

  “When was the last time you danced for fun and not for the sake of practice?” I shot back.

  “Before the jinx hit,” he answered almost immediately. “Every practice was fun to me. It was just me hanging out with Ger—my friends and having a blast. Whenever one of us fell onto our faces, we laughed and joked around.”

  “But you never fell before the jinx, right? Wasn’t this what started this whole road we’re on?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe it was a lot of fun for you because you were naturally just good at it. Maybe for people like me, practice does have to be a chore. It’s the only way I’ll be good at what I do.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t really believe that, do you?”

  A beat passed when he suddenly walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down and twisting his body so that one leg was brushing up against my arms.

  I gulped. “Asher…”

  “I heard you play,” he interrupted me. “There is no way you aren’t good. I just think you lost the certain spark that made you love piano to begin with. Do you know how we’re going to impress Damien and get you a spot for the spring performance?”

  I shook my head slowly, unable to physically speak.

  “By letting you remember how it feels to let the music breathe for you. You don’t breathe for the music, okay?”

  I nodded, catching my breath when he reached out to tug at one of my locks.

  Why does he always do this? It’s not like it means anything…

  “Your hair,” he said as if reading my thoughts.

  “What about it?”

  “It’s not as long as it was that night in the club.”

  I rolled my eyes and smacked his hand away. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve already covered that.”

  “But it’s still too long.”

  My forehead crinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I think the way you wear your hair is beautiful.”

  He thinks it’s beautiful?

  “But did you know it covers your face?” he prodded.

  I blinked, taken aback. “I wear it up during performances, if that’s what you mean.”

  “True that, but you never wear it up whenever we’re together.”

  “Didn’t know I needed to,” I snapped.

  “Do you ever wear it up when you’re just hanging around?”

  My gaze flew down and my fingers instinctively reached up for the top of my scalp. “No, it feels more comfortable down.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “I think it’ll make you a bit more confident knowing that you’re facing the world without hiding behind something. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes it seems like you use your hair as a shield to hide from unwanted attention.”

  “I…” I blinked in surprise. “I’ve never really noticed if I had or not.”

  His hand reached over once again, this time resting on top of mine as I pulled at my hair. “Besides, your face is too pretty to hide.”

  My pulse
quickened as all my blood rushed through my core. I was hungry—thirsty—for his touch. My tongue instinctively ran across the length of my lips, silently coaxing him to do it for me. I wanted to taste him again. I wanted him to taste me.

  I watched his arms stiffen as if he were fighting an internal battle. Figuring I’d help him out a little, I placed a hand onto his rock-hard bicep, reveling in the way it relaxed under my touch.

  His gaze was glued onto me, never looking away from my face. As we stared at one another, I tried so hard to communicate all the thoughts I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

  It didn’t work.

  Asher suddenly pulled away and cleared his throat. He stood straight up and walked quietly to his bed, lying down without so much as another glance back at me. Feeling miffed, I grunted and rolled onto my side so I was facing the opposite wall.

  After what felt like eons, I finally heard his deep voice say, “Mallory?”

  “What?”

  “Just not now.”

  Those three words spoke more to me than he’d ever know.

  He really meant, not with me.

  I wanted to scream and tell him I knew what he was up to. He was afraid to touch me again because of that stupid curse. It’s the reason we never completed those would-be kisses. In his head I was still that jinx he’d desperately searched for online.

  I was still broken.

  Despite everything we’d been through together, absolutely nothing had changed between us. We both still had monsters we needed to fight and things we desperately wanted to forget—Damien, Roxie, b-boy battles, spring performances, and now each other.

  Just not now.

  He doesn’t want you, Mallory. Not like that, I thought.

  My nose began to prickle and I tried hard to keep my threatening sniffles at bay. Discreetly wiping away some stray tears, a pained chuckle escaped my mouth. “You’re right. I’d just end up ruining you all over again, wouldn’t I?”

  Once again I wasn’t sure if I’d actually spoken those words. My eyelids felt heavy, weighing down from weeks full of exhaustion. Soon I began to drift off, escaping to the only world I’d be Asher free…but not until he whispered, “No. I’d end up ruining you.”

  Or so I thought I heard…

  Chapter 29

  Asher

  I was blinded!

  I fell back onto Mallory’s door, rubbing my eyes in a panic but could not get rid of the stars and spots that blocked my vision.

  “What the fuck?” I hunched over, pressing the side of my fists firmly against my eye sockets.

  Blinking slowly, my vision finally began to clear and through blurred lenses I saw Claudia cracking up as she shook what looked like a Polaroid picture in her hand. It was then I realized that what I had thought was a huge explosion was actually the bright flash of her vintage camera.

  “Looks like I have another addition to the Fridge of Shame.” She glanced at the photo with a teasing look on her face. “This might actually replace Mal’s photo as the spotlight piece.”

  Jinny appeared seemingly from out of thin air and peeked over Claudia’s shoulder. “Oh yeah. This one is good. Especially since you can see Mallory photobombing in the back.”

  “Let me see that,” I muttered, easily reaching Claudia to grab the photo from her hand. Frowning, I peered at the photograph and couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on my face. Whites of my eyes showing, mouth wide open—I looked as if I’d just seen a member of the undead manifest in front of me. To further add to the humor of it all, there Mallory was behind me looking as shameful as ever. Her signature red cheeks were pretty hard to miss.

  With a wide grin on my face, I handed the photo back to Claudia. “Here you go. Have at it. I have to admit it’s a pretty good photo.”

  Mallory pushed out from behind me, hitting my shoulder in the process. “Don’t encourage her.”

  Claudia looked as gleeful as ever. “You see? At least someone has good humor about it. Then again, it does kind of take away from the fun of it all. Half the battle is rubbing the photo in the criminal’s face.”

  “Criminal?” I chuckled and winked at my partner in crime. “We hardly did anything criminal last night, right, Mallory?”

  “Nope. Nothing remotely interesting,” she grumbled, heading straight for the pot of coffee as if being led by her nose. I had to admit, for a jug of generic coffee it smelled rather enticing. Looking like a zombie, she fumbled with an empty mug, yawning as she filled it to the rim. Her normally neat hair was in utter disarray and I found that I liked it—a lot. It reminded me of that ‘I’ve just been fucked’ bed hair that I had the bad luck of missing out on the night she snuck away. Despite our excruciating experiment of abstinence the night before that hair totally turned me on.

  “Shit,” I mumbled, turning slightly to hide the woody that sprung up on me.

  Claudia must have noticed because she shot me an amused wink before turning to Mallory. “What do you mean nothing? The whole purpose of this wall is to showcase instances of debauchery.”

  “Well, if you use that photo you’re lying to yourself,” Mallory grumbled as she practically chugged a mug of java down her throat.

  “Aw boo!” Claudia pouted. “That’s no fun. We can’t taint the Fridge of Shame with innocent acts now, can we?”

  “Then don’t use it,” Mallory snapped, never bothering to take her eyes off her steaming cup of joe.

  Claudia and Jinny exchanged glances.

  “Okay,” Claudia murmured, sneaking the photo into my hand. “If you two didn't knock boots, what’s Asher doing here? Better yet, why is he coming out of your room?”

  Though she addressed Mallory, she kept her eyes on me.

  I decided to bite the bullet and answer first…not to mention, I was a bit fearful of what would come out of Mallory's mouth. She definitely wasn’t a morning person. “I kind of got kicked out of the house I was crashing at.”

  “Fight with the girlfriend?” a male voice piped up.

  We turned in unison to find a gangly, dark haired guy exit Jinny’s room. If I had to take a wild guess it must have been the infamous Raphael.

  I smirked. “No bright ass wake up call for him?”

  Jinny rubbed her tired green eyes, which were lined by dark circles underneath. “Nah, that’s my husband to be, Raphael,” she explained proudly. I shot her a smile, glad to know my advice had obviously worked. “He doesn’t really count as a ‘shame,’ but speaking of which, I’m very disappointed that he’d automatically assume you left your girlfriend’s house to shack up with Mallory.”

  Raphael shrugged sheepishly. “I caught the tail end of the conversation. Besides, I’m all confused when I first wake up. I don’t mix well with the morning.”

  “You’re not the only one,” I muttered, sneaking a glance at Mallory’s crumpled face. She looked as if she didn’t want anything to do with me.

  Had I done something wrong? I’d tried my hardest to treat her with as much respect as I could muster given that I was sleeping in her bedroom. I had no idea I even had as much self-control to withstand the inviting looks and hints she was dropping on me. A guy could only take so much!

  As much as I wanted to take her and make everything of hers mine, I couldn’t. For one, I’m not an opportunist and didn’t want Mallory to think that the only reason I was boning her was to take advantage of her Damien-induced vulnerability, nor the fact I was in her bedroom. Sex by proximity really wasn’t my thing either. Besides, we’d already hooked up once before and the next time we chose to I wanted it special.

  I wanted it right.

  Something happened in the few weeks we’ve gotten to know one another, and though deep down I was scared out of my mind, I could actually see myself pursuing a relationship with her. Too bad I still had a lot of things to figure out about myself before I took a plunge into another one of those. Roxie had really screwed me up until I thought that dating automatically equals giving up your individuality. I needed to learn
how to ride the fine line between self-love and opening the self up to more love. That was a feat in itself and I wondered how long it’d take me to finally feel comfortable enough to do so.

  It wasn’t until I heard the gravelly sound of Claudia clearing her throat that I realized Mallory and I were staring at one another. Or rather, I was staring and Mallory was glaring daggers at me.

  “So you’re staying with us until further notice?” the petite fairytale looking creature asked curiously.

  I shrugged. “Haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

  I didn’t bother to mention that I’d be leaving in a few weeks for my gig, not wanting a reminder that my time with Mallory was quickly coming to an end.

  My blonde-haired hex rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want, Asher. You can stay here for as long as you like. Consider it unlawful payment for the crap you got me into.”

  Claudia placed her hand on her hip and flicked the other in the air. “Am I missing something here? Did anything happen between you two besides the obvious?”

  I caught Raphael frowning over at Jinny, a silent question hanging in the air. She waved him off and mouthed, "I'll tell you later."

  Mallory ran her fingers through her tangled mess and sighed. “Let's just say I have something new to rehearse for and no place to do it.”

  “What happened to school?” Claudia asked, snapping her head back and forth between us.

  “He pissed Damien off,” Mallory responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “So? That doesn’t sound like the most horrible thing in the world. It’s about time someone gave it to him.”

  “Thank you!” I exclaimed, shooting Mallory a proud grin.

  She smacked her tongue in distaste. “So unless I have mandatory class or rehearsals with him, I rather not run into my hotshot professor ever again.”

  There were definitely unspoken words floating around us. She left out the part about Damien almost catching us in a kiss, the catalyst for my impulsive actions.