by Amanda Grace
I could work on my book. It’s halfway done. Sometime after graduation, my writer’s block broke. I found my voice again. The story’s not a romance, now. It’s dark and twisting, unfurling as I write it. Unlike all those cheesy romance novels I wrote before, this one doesn’t have a foregone conclusion, doesn’t know what it will become. I filled an entire notebook, and still I write, and still it pours out.
But … it’s different than before. I haven’t shared the whole book yet, because it’s not ready, but I’ve shared a few pieces. Instead of hiding the books under my bed, I joined a writer’s club. We get together once a week in a coffee shop and write. It’s total crap, and I know it’s crap, but …
It feels good. Therapeutic, kinda. I lost everything
for the lie. I deserved to lose everything. But somehow
I’m rebuilding. Somehow, I’m finding myself amidst the shattered pieces.
I toss the packets into my handbasket and then turn to go find the sour cream, but I’ve hardly gone three steps before I look up and see the face that sends my heart plummeting into my feet.
The two of us freeze—stand six feet apart and simply stare. I take in a sharp breath of air, feel the overwhelming urge to ditch my basket and bolt, but I don’t.
Instead I stare back at Carter.
He looks good. He looks like he used to … warm, tanned skin and sparkling blue eyes, with shaggy, tousled blond hair. The stark contrast between the guy staring at me and the one who stood in front of me at the senior party tears at me.
“Oh,” I finally say.
He swallows.
“I—” I have to clear my throat. “I’m sorry,” I add. “For … everything.”
He gives me an odd sort of smirk, a look halfway between pity and disgust. “And you think I’ll accept your apology?”
I sigh. “No. Not really.”
“Good.”
He pushes past me, his basket clanking into mine and spinning me around.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I call out after him.
He whirls around. “I swear to God, if you keep talking to me, you’ll regret it.”
Oh. I swallow and nod. He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched, and turns away again, walking to the front of the store.
I watch him disappear around the corner, and then have to put out a hand and lean against the shelving. It’s funny … how I obliterated everything he stood for, and yet he’s the one who somehow moved on, who somehow found himself again, and here I am, still in tattered pieces, putting things together one tiny piece at a time.
It’s happening, though. A little at a time, I’m finding myself.
Maybe it helps that I never really knew myself to begin with. I never knew what I wanted, who I was, who I could be. I never took chances, I never spoke up for what I wanted, I never stood out.
It’s not like I stood up the first day of college and declared my love for writing. It’s not like I stand out yet. But I’m taking baby steps. I’m figuring it out.
The thing is, somewhere along the way, I learned two things.
First, existing and living are two different things.
And secondly …
Some things can’t be undone.
Lies are one of them.
About the Author
Amanda Grace is a pseudonym for Mandy Hubbard, author of Prada & Prejudice and You Wish, romantic comedies for teens. Her first serious novel for teens, But I Love Him, was released in 2011. A cowgirl at heart, she enjoys riding horses and ATVs and singing horribly to the latest country tune. She’s currently living happily ever after with her husband and daughter in Tacoma, Washington. Visit her at www.amandagracebooks.com.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one