Broken Fairytales

by Monica Alexander

  I smirked at him. “Wow, so are you just looking for a cure for your depression or something?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, his gaze losing focus for a moment, and I wondered where he’d gone.

  Had I brought up a sore subject? I hadn’t meant to insult him. I was only joking. I hoped he wasn’t actually depressed.

  “What are you drinking,” he asked then, snapping his attention back the present and instantly changing the subject and his demeanor.

  I’d definitely hit a sore spot, but it seemed he’d recovered quickly.

  “Um,” I said, looking down at my drink. “Vanilla latte.”

  Cute Boy nodded. “Sounds sweet.”

  The way he said sweet, his accent wrapping around the word, caused my mind to drift to an inappropriate place and my face flushed at the thought. I bit my lip to keep my thoughts at bay.

  “Um, yeah,” I said, releasing my lip and hoping it was dark enough that he couldn’t see my blush. “It’s good, though. You should try one.”

  He nodded. “Maybe another time. I need something stronger tonight.”

  He left his statement open-ended, almost as if he wanted me to probe, so I played along. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to, and who was I do dismiss a hottie like him if he needed a sounding board?

  “Why’s that?” I asked, taking a sip of my latte and playing into the conversation.

  He sighed. “I’m being forced to assemble wedding favors,” he said, smiling a small, half-smile and shaking his head slightly.

  I was suddenly aware of the frown that had appeared on my face at the idea of this guy being off the market. Yeah, I really had to remember that I had a boyfriend.

  “My dad,” he said, taking in my expression, and I instantly exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “He’s getting married next weekend, so I’m in town for the wedding and his fiancé is freaking out, so I offered to help her put the favors together.” He put his index finger to his temple and mimed shooting a gun at his head.

  I laughed. “That doesn’t sound fun,” I said, wondering how long I could keep the conversation going with this complete stranger who tipped the hotness scales like no one I’d ever seen before.

  “No, it isn’t going to be, which is why I need a triple espresso tonight. It will be the only thing to get me through it.”

  I laughed again. He was cute and funny.

  He shook his head again, laughing along with me before pushing himself off the pole. “Okay, I’ve procrastinated long enough. Time to get my coffee and return to wedding hell.”

  “Good luck,” I said, extending my over-exaggerated sympathies his way. He mouthed ‘thank you’ in an equally over-exaggerated way.

  He was being dramatic, but I knew he was only half-serious. He seemed like a nice guy who’d want to help out his future step-mother just because he knew she needed the help. I watched as he turned back to Randy who was eyeing him lazily.

  “Well, I’m going to get a coffee now, Randy,” he said. “Thanks for letting me pet you.” He ruffled Randy’s fur one more time, before he stood up and headed inside.

  I found myself watching him walk, taking in the sexy, languid way he moved. As he stood in line, I could see just enough of him to continue to stare. I watched him advance in line, order his drink, and wait off to the side for the girl behind the counter to make it. For some reason, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. I hypnotically sipped my latte, while trying to remain discreet, so I wouldn’t get caught staring.

  He had that bad boy look to him that screamed ‘danger’, but he hadn’t seemed dangerous when he’d been talking to me. He’d seemed nice. It was too bad he was just in town visiting, I thought, then instantly wanted to clamp my hand over my mouth. I had a serious boyfriend. I really needed to remember that.

  I did not need to be daydreaming about what I would do with some other guy if he lived here – even if he was insanely hot and sexy – and especially when what I was envisioning was exactly what I’d been avoiding doing with Ben the night before. I took a deep breath to silence the fighting emotions that had welled up inside me, but I still couldn’t look away from him.

  When he walked back outside, I smiled, and he held up his espresso in a sort of salute before walking past me to the parking lot where he got into a black F150. I watched him the whole way.

  Chapter Seven

  A few days later July 5th arrived, and it was time for my siblings and me to join our parents in the Outer Banks for a summer of forced family fun. Keely and I were waiting for Chase to return from taking Rachel to get her car since she’d left it at Sara Rossin’s house the night before in our haste to leave the party after everything had essentially turned to shit.

  Rachel insisted on coming home with me and staying the night, so the next morning, while I’d finished making sure I had everything packed for the beach and the car was loaded, Chase had offered to drive her to get her car, which I thought was completely thoughtful and completely out of character for him. Of course the night before had been full of surprises, including some where Chase had actually been friendly toward me, so I figured I wouldn’t question his offer.

  I was exhausted from what seemed like an endless night that included me thinking I was crazy for ever thinking Ben was not the right guy for me, then getting angry at Ben and breaking up with him out of the blue after having too much to drink, and then shedding more tears than I had in a long time over said break-up. Oh yeah, and I’d gotten into a fist fight. It had not been a good night.

  In the bright light of the morning, I knelt in front of my suitcase, packing the last of my clothes and hoping my stomach would settle down. I’d thrown up countless times the night before and was pressed down by that awesome hangover feeling that made my head ache and my stomach beg for greasy food. I’d only experienced it two other times, and I was pretty sure I’d blocked out the pain since I hadn’t remembered it being this intense. Of course, I was also sporting red, puffy eyes since I’d spent the better part of the night bawling my eyes out, so I knew that couldn’t be helping matters at all.

  On top of everything else, I was still slightly emotional from the events of night before, fighting the tears that still threatened to fall, as I wondered if I’d made the right decision in breaking up with Ben. It had been so rash and unexpected, but in the moment, it was exactly what I’d wanted.

  I picked up a pair of jeans and a filmy white top that were draped across the back of my desk chair. I’d worn both of them to the party the night before and had laid them across the chair when I’d stumbled into my room at midnight, flanked by Rachel and my brother, each of them supporting me since I couldn’t stand on my own.

  Those two items were the last things I had to pack. They needed to be washed, as the top was half-soaked in beer and my favorite pair of jeans had a mud on the back from when I’d fallen down at the party and landed in a beer/dirt concoction on the floor. That had been at the peak of the worst part of the night.

  The night had actually started out perfect. Ben had taken me to dinner before and we had plans to leave the party early so we could spend some time alone, so he’d been in a spectacularly good mood. Thinking that I needed to let loose and not be so rigid, as Chase and Ben had both told me I was, I’d decided to make the most of the night.

  That included getting drunk – really drunk – which might have been a mistake since I wasn’t a big drinker. The last time I could remember being drunk was the night sophomore year that led to me thinking I might be pregnant. I usually drank socially, no more than a beer or two a night. But for the first time in a while, I’d let go of all of my inhibitions and let loose, which turned out to be error number one.

  At first, I found myself having fun, laughing, and smiling naturally for the first time in months. I felt so relaxed, but then as is the way it works with alcohol, I hit a point where the more I drank, the more things started to go from good to bad to worse. I honestly blame Ashleigh Ballast, as look
ing back it was all her fault that I was now boyfriendless and probably the topic of many post-party conversations that would be taking place. I’d take the blame for the hangover, but everything else was Ashleigh’s fault.

  She had been in rarer form than usual. Over the years, I’d come to realize that she had a thing for Ben and had never really gotten over the fact that he’d picked me over her in high school. So she flirted with him pretty shamelessly whenever she saw him. Whatever. I was used to it, but this time I actually walked in on her pawing him in the kitchen and rubbing up against him about an hour after we’d gotten to the party which pretty much crossed a line in my book.

  As soon as Ben saw me, the uncomfortable look on his face turned to panic as he realized what the scene must look like from my perspective. He backed away from her so quickly that it looked like he’d been shocked. I immediately shot a glare at Ashleigh, who leaned against the counter looking indifferent to the situation.

  Ben started apologizing profusely, but being drunk and very over Ashleigh always trying to steal my boyfriend, I’d just turned around and walked away from them both, putting my hand up behind me to stop Ben from coming after me. I needed to decompress and let go of what I’d seen and what might have happened next had I not walked in on them.

  Of course, Ben immediately ran after me, cornering me in the hallway and babbling like a crazy person about how sorry he was. That started fight number one of the night. If only he’d let me calm down before he’d come after me, it might not have been so bad. I was not usually an overly emotional person in public, but in that moment, I was so fired up that I didn’t give a damn that people were staring and commenting that sweet Emily Cole was flying off the handle.

  Not caring who noticed, and sick of the expectation others had laid upon me to be good and sweet and nice all the time, I let loose on Ben, shouting everything that I’d held in all at once. In Ben’s defense, I’d never before expressed any aggravation with Ashleigh’s flirting and over-aggressive attempts to make-out with him, so it may have come as a surprise that I was so upset, but at the same time, how could he think I could have been okay with all of it? Yes, I had known Ashleigh since kindergarten, and was never surprised to find her flirting with anyone, especially Ben, but it was just a teensy bit annoying after five years that she continued to do it.

  I knew Ben wouldn’t do anything with her, but it was hard to get over the fact that a very well-endowed, gorgeous girl was sticking her chest in your boyfriend’s face and rubbing up against him every chance she got. For as long as I could remember, I’d put up with her flirting. I hadn’t said a word, but what hurt, now that I thought about it, was that neither had Ben. At no point had he ever stood up to her, pushed her away, or told her to leave him alone, and suddenly I was pissed that he hadn’t done any of that.

  Ashleigh relished the fact that she was a UNC cheerleader and Ben was a football player. Any time I went to a football party with him, she was always somewhere close by. What she never seemed to get is that Ben would never go for her, not to mention the fact that he would never cheat on me. She didn’t stand a chance, and her seduction attempts had become desperate and pathetic.

  The night before had been the same as always – different location, same tactics – wait until Ben was separated from me, and I was talking to other people, then move in. She never gave up. Thankfully, Ben never gave in either, and he always tended to assume the guilt over her flirting which usually parlayed into him not leaving my side for the rest of the night. I told him time and again that it didn’t bother me, but it always did. He always felt bad that he let her get to him, but not once did he speak up and tell her to stop. I was over it.

  I screamed at him in the hallway for a good five minutes before telling him I was done and walked away. I wasn’t sure what I’d meant by being ‘done’, but it had the desired effect. Ben’s face held a look of shock and awe that I glanced at before shoving past him to the back porch where I ran smack into my brother.

  “Ow! Shit!” I said, my hand instantly closing over the small painful circle of exposed flesh that appeared when my wrist collided with his lit cigarette. “Dammit! That hurts!”

  I looked up and glared at Chase, expecting him to make a nasty comment about my clumsiness, but instead he was looking at me with something resembling concern.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking down at my covered wrist. In his right hand was the offending object I’d run into. It was now out and slightly crumbled, having met its fate against my skin. He looked at it once before letting it fall to the ground.

  “No, it hurts like hell,” I said, realizing that the tiny burn was throbbing painfully.

  “Yeah, fire tends to hurt when it collides with skin. Do you want me to get you some ice?”

  I shot him a dirty look at hearing the sarcasm in his tone. No, I did not want him to get me some ice.

  He stared at me for a moment, when I didn’t respond, before shaking his head. “Put some ice on it,” he said, pulling another cigarette from his pack and lighting it. “You’ll be fine.”

  I huffed once in annoyance, before turning on my heel and stalking off toward the kitchen. I wanted to cry, but I was far too pissed to let that happen. Silently, I grabbed a piece of ice from the freezer and pressed it against the seared circle of flesh, instantly feeling relief. Ben reappeared then, holding a box of Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin, and I realized he’d seen me get burned by Chase’s cigarette.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, searching my eyes for some sign that I might forgive him, as he set the first-aid items on the counter.

  I sighed and nodded. “Me too,” I said, realizing how much I really didn’t want to fight with him. I wanted to enjoy our last night together.

  “I didn’t know you were that upset about Ashleigh flirting with me,” he said, and I knew he was telling the truth. “Em, you know I’d never do anything with her, right?”

  I nodded again. “Yeah, I know.”

  I could feel the ice cube melting, water running down my arm and dripping onto the tile floor, making small puddles. Ben reached out for my wrist, taking the ice from my hand and placed it over my burn. Looking up at him, I knew I couldn’t stay mad. Not when he was being so sweet.

  “I think I’m good,” I said, after a few minutes.

  The ice cube was almost entirely melted anyway. Ben removed it from my wrist, revealing a very red, open wound. The skin around it was peeled back and charred. It was far from attractive. Ben leaned down and kissed my wrist, next the burn. Without looking up, he set to work applying the Neosporin and covering it with a Band-Aid. When he finally looked up, his eyes locked with mine.

  “Thank you,” I said, grateful for his kindness after I’d just yelled at him.

  “I love you, Emily,” he said, softly. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, leaning up to kiss him. I smiled at him as he smirked down at me.

  “I can’t wait for later,” he mumbled against my lips, his body pressing against mine. “Do you just want to leave now?”

  My second mistake of the night was hesitating. We should have just left the party then.

  “Not yet. I want to find Rachel. I haven’t seen her all night.”

  “Okay,” Ben said, looking slightly crestfallen, “but let me know when you want to leave. I’m ready whenever.”

  I could tell he could care less about spending time with our high school friends. Of course, he wasn’t leaving the next day like I was, and I wanted to get some Rachel time in before I was separated from her again.

  I leaned up and kissed him long and hard. “Later,” I said seductively, before heading toward the keg outside where I could see Rachel talking to someone.

  I noticed as I got closer that that someone was Chase. She was listening and nodding at something he was saying. It was a strange scene to take in.

  “How’s your wrist?” she asked as soon as she saw me. I peeled back the Band-Ai
d and held it up to show her. She visibly winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I said, glaring at Chase, as I re-secured the Band-Aid. I fully blamed him since it was his cigarette I’d run into.

  His face showed no change in expression. He just lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag, blowing smoke out into the night. I ignored him and turned back to Rachel.

  “I need to talk to you.” I reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her over to a corner to demand some answers. “Okay, BF,” I said, well aware that I was beyond buzzed at that point. “What exactly were you doing hanging out with my asshole brother the other night, and where exactly do you get off not telling me about it, huh?”

  I’d forgotten to ask Rachel about hanging out with Chase at the concert she’d gone to the week before. Now, seeing them together again, I remembered what Keely had told me.

  “What?” Rachel asked, and I knew she was playing dumb. “What are you talking about?”

  “The concert. Keely said you guys were hanging out together,” I said, as if the words tasted sour in my mouth.

  “Oh,” Rachel said, waving me off, “that was nothing. I ran into him at the bar, so we watched the set together. He was cool for a change. It was like hanging out with the Chase we knew when we were little.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her. “Seriously?”

  She shrugged and took a sip of her beer. “It’s weird, I know, but he was actually nice to me that night.”

  Now I was beyond puzzled and a little annoyed. I had personal knowledge that Chase had referred to Rachel as a psycho-bitch several times in the past.

  “Are you guys, like best friends now?” I asked, a little more harshly than I’d intended to and realized too late that I sounded petty and immature. It must have been the alcohol talking.

  “No,” she said, “Not hardly.”

  “But you were talking to him tonight,” I said, reminding her of what I’d walked up on two minutes earlier.