How To Get Your Heart Broken (13 page)

"Well,
I'm gonna go…" He said a moment later in response to Ash’s suspicious
stare. The way he walked out so quickly reminded me of how his brother had done
the same thing not long before.

"Eli?"
Ash said hesitantly.

"So,
when did you guys become a thing?"

Her wide
smile indicated that she had fallen for the distraction.

She
shrugged, "I don't know if you can say that.
Technically
he hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend."

I raised an
eyebrow.

"But
he finally kissed me!" ‘
Oh great!
Just what I wanted to hear,’
I thought.

"Tell
me
everything
!" I tried to sound
as excited as she did. I desperately needed a distraction.

Between
Ryan and Jessie, I as too busy thinking about my own kisses to hear anything
about hers, and apparently I’d done a terrible job of pretending to listen.

"Elle,
are you sure you're okay?" She asked with a concerned expression.

I tried to
snap out of it, doing my best to sound reassuring, "I'm fine! It sounds
like I've missed a lot more than that!" I said, trying to sound like I’d
heard something of what she said.

"Well...when
we found out you were in the hospital he offered to drive me and then he let me
ruin his shirt, and he's a really good listener. He talked to the doctors and
he was the one that called your parents, he took care of everything."

"What?"
I asked in confusion. "Where was everyone else?"

"Well,
Rachel would kill me for saying this, but she was a mess. As soon as the
doctors finished checking her out she locked herself in the bathroom, and I
think she was
crying
!" She said
the last part with such disbelief, her eyes widening as if she was recounting a
story about the time she heard a chicken talk.
 

"Of
course, she doesn't know that I know. Anyway, Jessie didn't get here for a
while...I don't know where he was. So it was just me and him."

I nodded.

“Oh! The
doctor said you can leave tomorrow if all goes well."

I sighed in
relief; I didn’t think I could take much more of this place.

"I'm
gonna let you get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

I lay limp
as she came to hug me goodbye.

Great
.

As
exhausted as I was, there was no way I was going to fall asleep. I knew it
would be just me and my thoughts for the rest of the night.

I couldn’t face my own shame. I couldn’t believe I’d
cried
. But I’d
been so sure about
the way Jessie felt about me. I couldn’t say I trusted him. I never believed
him when he said there was nothing going on between him and Rachel. But even
so, I was sure that whatever was going on between them didn’t affect us. I was
so
sure.

I felt stupid, embarrassed, and confused.
I mean,
even if Jessie was someone
I hated, I
would have been hurt by that awful expression on his face.

But
the worst part was
that I wasn’t sure
why
I was so mad
about being wrong. Was it because I was afraid I would lose the bet or was it
something entirely different?

How to Ruin Your Own Life

I didn’t see Jessie
the next morning. I did see my mother though. She showed up just when I’d
fallen asleep, which was very early in the morning. She and Lauren left soon
after I got to the beach house. She gave me this lecture about being
irresponsible, “Now that I was okay.”

Lauren actually hugged
me, and she looked kind of sorry for me. I wondered what had inspired the
change. Afterwards, Julian, Ashton, and Rachel were by my side, pretending it
was completely natural for all of us to be hanging out.

They catered to my
every need. Ash had gone to shower, because apparently she hadn’t done so in a
while and Rachel had gone to make lunch, even though I insisted on doing it; I
feared a lunch made by Rachel. It was just Julian and I, watching those boring
reruns that characterize Saturday morning T.V. I marveled at how strange the
entire scene felt.

“So apparently I owe
you a big thank-you,” I said.

“For what?” He asked.
“The nice view, my jokes, my charisma and charm…”
  

“
God
, so much like your brother,” I frowned. “Thanks for handling
everything that apparently no one else could.”

“Don’t worry about it,
they really did their best. I think Rachel was just really frazzled by the
whole thing, and Ash blamed herself. She kept going on about a broken table or
something
…
Anyway,
don’t hold it against them, they
all
really love you.”

I wondered about his
emphasis on the “all
.”

“Are you feeling
better?” He asked.

“If you mean am I
going to burst into tears again, then no. I think I’ve gotten over the
allergies.”

He raised an eyebrow,
“Are you sure about that?”

“Well, I took some
Benadryl.” I replied, pretending not to be lost in my own metaphor.
 

“Maybe you should give
pollen a chance, it really cares about you.”

“I leave you two alone
for five minutes and you’ve already got your own code? Cute.”

I looked up at Rachel,
wearily eyeing the pan she bought with her.

“Hmmm, that smells
delicious!” I replied, trying to change the subject.

She only rolled her
eyes at me, probably not caring enough to ask.

“I made pot roast!”
She exclaimed.

She handed each of us
a plate of the thing before sitting down.

I waited for Julian to
take the first bite, fearful of what was on my plate. His coughing made me
think that was a good decision.

“Oh, Rachel, what’d
you say this was again?” Julian asked, putting his plate down.

“Veggie pot roast!”
She answered cheerfully.
 

“Well, gosh darn it,”
he said, snapping his fingers as if he truly were disappointed, “I forgot, I’m
allergic. Tell Ash I had to go.”

He rushed out before
either of us could say anything.

“It can’t be that
bad,” Rachel said. Then she took a bite and made a face, one that reminded me
of Jessie’s yesterday. “Let’s order takeout!” She said a second after.

“Thanks for trying,” I
yelled to her as she left to dump the pan. I placed the plate back down,
thanking my lucky stars I didn’t have to try it.

She came back when
she’d finished. “I followed the recipe,” she said innocently.

“It’s okay! Failed
experiments are why we have fast food.”

“Right,” she nodded.

I tried to stand and
help her clean up, but my body protested with a frantic throbbing on my left
side. I’d been wondering what a bruised rib felt like. Now that the medicine
was wearing off, I was about to find out.
 

“Shit,” I murmured.

“I’ll get your
medicine,” she said, rushing towards the kitchen.

A second later she
returned with it, a bottle of water and an ice pack in her other hand.

The look on her face
reminded me of something I’d been meaning to say. “Rachel…sit.”

She eyed me
questioningly. I waited for her to do it anyway.

“You know what
happened wasn’t your fault right?”

“Of course not. I’m
not the idiot that crashed into you.”
 

“Okay…but you
shouldn’t feel bad for any reason. None of us could have anticipated what
happened.”

“All this time I
thought I was a psychic!”

The sarcastic comments
seemed to confirm my suspicions, that she did feel guilty. Ash said she
cried
, she slept on a chair for me, and
she even made something she thought was pot roast. I was convinced she would do
anything I asked of her at the moment.
 

“Fine, just, don’t
feel bad…okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she
replied.

I decided to let it
go. Rachel and I were too much alike; I knew that right now her defense
mechanisms were so intact, she hadn’t even admitted her feelings to
herself.
 

---

Rachel, Ash, and I ate
together. There were no jokes at the expense of one another, no immature jabs.
Rachel didn’t even say anything when Ashton said “Julian and I” for the one
millionth time. They were almost getting along. Actually, they were kind of just
ignoring each other, but that was good enough for me.

“Wow, I should get
into accidents more often.”

“That’s not funny,”
Ash said sternly.

Rachel was looking
down and playing with her food, ignoring us. I wondered if she would ever be
able to admit her feelings. I followed her to her room after we’d finished
cleaning up. Well, after
they’d
finished
cleaning up.
 

“Eli, um, look, I hope
you’ve learned something from this accident. I…”

I motioned impatiently
for her to go on after a long pause.

She sighed, and I was
made anxious by the fact that Rachel was actually thinking before she talked.

“Look, Jessie really
cares about you, and I was hoping near death experiences chip away at
stubbornness because it’s about time you admit that you feel the same. So we
can end the bet and he never has to know. You can even say you won,” she
smiled.

I couldn’t believe the
words that had come out of her mouth. This notion of being happy with a boy was
something I’d never imagined hearing off from her.

And Rachel accepting
defeat, especially when she seemed to have such a good chance of winning seemed
odd. In all the time I’d known her, one thing I knew best about her was that
she never lost, not at anything.

I raised a suspicious
eyebrow at her, “Who are you and what have you done with Rachel?”

She shrugged.

“Where is the Rachel
that thinks all men are cheating assholes that only care about themselves?”

“Maybe I think there
are exceptions to the rule.”

“And
Jessie
would be that exception?” I
stared at her in disbelief.

“Would you stop
changing the subject? That’s not the point.”

“Are you backing out?
Cause you’re afraid you’re gonna lose?”

“What? Grown up Eli!”

“I know how hard it is
for you to accept losing.”

“Are you serious? Do
you know how lucky you are? He really
cares
about you, but you know what? He’ not gonna wait around forever, and when
he gets over whatever the hell he sees in you, I’ll be waiting.”

I stomped out of her
room as well as I could with my injuries. If she wanted to play,
Game on.

---

Some
part of me seemed to
realize how much of an idiot I was. But there was another part of me, a
stronger part that wasn’t ready to face the truth. I knew I’d pushed Rachel’s
buttons on purpose. But I didn’t want to call off the bet.

Rachel seemed so sure
about Jessie’s feelings for me, but she hadn’t seen the look on his face after
he’d kissed me. Even so, I still wanted to win. I wanted to be the one he would
fall in love with. I was pretty certain that wasn’t going to happen. And I
couldn’t even figure out why I cared anymore. Ryan’s visit had made me realize
that I had moved on. So what the hell was I doing?

Some People are So Good at Lying to Themselves

“Hey Elle. How are you
feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I said
briefly.

I was looking everywhere
but at Jessie. Rachel knew that I’d been avoiding him since the hospital, so of
course she insisted on
inviting him
up to my room. Even though I didn’t really want to see him, I was currently
lying in bed with an ice pack over my ribs. A captive audience if there ever
was any.

“You look tired,” he
said as he took a seat by the edge of my bed. He leaned over to place a hand
over my forehead like he was checking my temperature. I twisted away.

“Don’t you know you’re
not supposed to say that to people?” I asked.

He pulled his hand
away, “Still beautiful, just tired,” he smirked.

I kept my eyes on the
comforter. From the corner of my eye, I could see him looking around the room.

I drummed my fingers
impatiently. I wasn’t sure what he came here to say, though I hoped it would
involve some sort of explanation for his behavior at the hospital. I was pretty
sure that was why he was stalling.

“Cool room,” he said
absently.

“You knit?” He asked
as he picked up the hat I’d been working on before the accident. The needles
were still tucked inside since I hadn’t finished. I grew anxious that they
would fall out as he held it, and for a moment I had to resist the urge to yell
at him for picking it up.

“Not anymore,” I said
matter-of-factly before glancing down at my wrist.
 

He placed the hat and
needles down and turned back to me. “You’ll get better.”

I sighed. I couldn’t
keep up my half-assed attempt at being polite anymore.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

“Are you still in love
with Ryan?”

My eyes widened. ‘
What? …What??’

“What?” I asked in a
confused voice.

Where was this coming
from? Did he know Ryan had come to visit me in the hospital? What had I done to
suggest that I was still
in love
with
Ryan?

I didn’t even know how
to answer. But he didn’t give me a chance to.

“I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have kissed you,” he said. But it sounded more like a question than a
statement, like he was looking to me for approval. “It was a mistake,” he
added. This time, he sounded more certain.
 

“You made that
perfectly clear,” I said bitterly.

His eyebrows raised in
surprise. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know.” He
hesitated, “Did you want me to kiss you?”

“Why would you think
that?” I asked in a defensive tone.

“Are you going to
answer every question with a question?” He shot back.
 

I didn’t reply. He
scooted closer, He was trying to get me to look at him and I was still avoiding
his eyes.

He sighed. “I think
I’ve been pretty clear, Elle, on how I feel about you. But just for the record,
I don’t regret kissing you because I didn’t enjoy it. I think I liked it
way
too much. I think that was the best
kiss in the history of the Universe. And that scared the hell out of me,
because I know you don’t feel the same.”

‘That certainly wasn’t what I thought he was going to
say.’
But I believed him. I
didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent.

“Tell me I’m wrong,”
he said a minute later. His voice sounded desperate.

I looked up at him for
the briefest of seconds. He looked like he was holding his breath. I look back
down at my lap and swallowed.
 

“I can’t.”

My voice broke. I’m
not even sure he understood what I said
.
‘I will not let this be the second time this week I cry about this
stupid
boy.’
I told myself. There was no
justifying it.

“I knew that,” he said
quietly.

I wished I could see
his expression, but I knew I couldn’t look at him. We sat in painful silence
for a few moments.

“Okay,” he said. It
sounded resigned. He stood up, paused for a few seconds, and then left without
saying another word.

‘Déjà vu.’

Before I could think
about what I said, and what I
didn’t
say, I pushed the covers away and tossed my ice pack on my nightstand. I rose to
my feet, searching wildly for the one thing I needed at this moment, a
distraction.

I gripped my phone
triumphantly, waiting impatiently as it rung.

“Hi Jared, I was
wondering if you could pick me up…”

There, my distraction.

---

I’d entertained some of
his texts since the night at the party.

I’d never really
expected to see him again, but my present location in the front seat of his car
could be a metaphor for my life at the moment; nothing was turning out the way
I’d expected.

“So uh…bar fight? Cliff
diving? Russian spy…?”

I laughed, figuring he
was referring to my injuries, “Close! Racing cars!”

“Wow! I knew I liked
you.”

“So what have you been
up to?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the passenger window like I was posing the
question to the road. Without meaning to I tuned him out, finding my mind
wandering to all of the places I didn’t want it to go.

It sounded like a
distant echo when he called my name, “We’re here,” he announced.

Here
was his apartment,
where he’d invited a few of his friends over to hang out.

“Nice place,” I said
once we were inside.

“Don’t lie to him, it
looks like a pig’s nest.”

I turned to the voice.
“Liam,” he said, raising the hand that has holding a beer in a manner that was
apparently meant as a greeting. I gathered from his accent that he was
Australian. His style could probably be described as lumberjack hipster; his
beard rivaled Santa Claus’. It worked for him, but he certainly didn’t look
like a college student, in fact he looked old enough to father the other guys
there.

“Hi, I’m Cody,”
another boy said, rising to shake my hand. He looked like he’d just come from
the country club; his grey polo and slicked back hair reminded me of the boys I
went to school with.

“Mike” greeted me with
a friendly smile more fitting on an adorable child, ironic because of his
stature. After learning that he was a football player I was quickly reminded of
The Blind Side,
deciding he was
Michael Oher’s long lost twin.

“Melody and Asha,”
Jared said, pointing to the two girls on the couch. I wasn’t sure which one was
which, they’d been so enveloped in conversation neither one paid any attention
to the introduction. One was a pretty Asian girl with a chin length bob and
ruby red lipstick. The other had curly, mahogany
colored hair, pulled back from her round face into a high
ponytail.

I went to sit between
Jared and Liam at the table, preferring this seat to the couch with the girls.
They began moving the table as soon I sat down in front of it, as if by some
unspoken agreement. The girls joined in on the rearranging, unfolding a large
plastic cloth with familiar colored circles.

“Twisted Twister!!!!!”
Liam yelled out in a deep voice.

“Can you play?” the
Asian girl asked me, motioning towards my wrist. I’d ditched the stupid sling
Dr. Nelson had given me, but decided against removing the brace.

“Yeah,” I replied
confidently, “Can’t feel a thing!”

“You ever played,
Eli?” Mike was asking, his arm around my shoulders like we had known each other
for longer than 10 minutes. I shook my head, waiting for him to explain.

It was at this point
that I realized that everyone was already drunk. All seven of us were playing
at the same time. Melody/Asha were spinning and calling out plays while they
were playing. Whoever created the drunken twister rule book had come up with a
really great way to give all players alcohol poisoning. Everyone had to guess
the color they thought would be next when the board was spun, if you got it
right, you had to take a shot. Not only was I being punished for being a good
guesser, but since there was always a twenty-five percent chance of guessing
the right color, it’s safe to say we all consumed a large amount of alcohol in
a significantly shorter time period than what was advisable.

“I get it, it’s called
Twisted Twister because you guys don’t know how to play!” I said.

Everyone burst into
laughter like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Even drunk I
couldn’t find the humor in the situation, especially since the laughter

led to everyone
falling over, with Mike collapsing on top off me. I waited for the pain to kick
in, but I felt nothing.

“I’m okay!” I yelled
triumphantly as he rolled off of me.

I watched as Jared
headed into his little kitchen, grabbing more drinks since their revolutionary
reworking of Twister had already gotten us through two bottles of vodka. Now
one of the guys, I couldn’t remember who was who anymore, had decided we should
all have Jell-O shots, which Jared had bet them $20 he knew how to make.

I watched him from the
living room, making a mental note to approach his Jell-O shots with the same
apprehension with which I’d approached Rachel’s pot roast. I was mulling over
what he planned to do with the hot water he was boiling, when he motioned for
me to join him. I climbed through the pile of limbs still sprawled over the
Twister mat that everyone had decided they wanted to keep laying on.

“What are you doing?”
I asked.

“Shh!” He whispered,
peeking into the living room like it housed enemy spies.

“You said you were a
good cook,” he continued.

“When did I say that?”
I asked, leaning onto the counter to avoid the dizziness my walk from the
living room to the kitchen had brought on.

“At the party. I need
your help.”

I tried to recall, “I
definitely don’t remember. Anyway, I don’t know how to make Jell-O shots.”

“Hey, you’re not
supposed to be getting any help!” I heard someone yell from the living room.

“What?” I asked at the
disapproving look Jared gave me.

“Stop yelling!” he
whisper shouted.

“She’s not helping,
she’s just keeping me company,” he yelled to whoever had spoken in the living
room.

“Now who’s yelling?” I
yelled back.

He ignored me, turning
to grab unnaturally blue Jell-O and shot glasses from his cabinets. He turned
back to me as if the answers were written on my face. I raised an eyebrow,
wondering what he expected me to do.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you
something nice once I get the money!”

“Ooh, like a whole bag
of Skittles?” I asked sarcastically.

He stared at me with
comically wide eyes.

“Fine!” I said
finally, figuring everyone was so drunk they wouldn’t really notice even if I substituted
Jell-O with mayo.

“Okay, pass me the
Jell-O and a big bowl.”

I began dumping all of
the Jell-O onto a paper plate he passed me, since he apparently hadn’t seen the
use of buying bowls when he moved. I stared at the gooey globs of Jell-O, which
I’d always been disgusted by, and resisted the urge to throw up all over it.

“Where’s the alcohol?”

He opened his fridge,
which unsurprisingly, contained more alcohol than food.
 

“I only have beer
left,” he replied, already opening a few bottles of Budweiser with his teeth.

“Haha, okay!” I
shrugged, starting to accept the absurdity of all of this.

“Oh, I have this mini
bottle of rum!”

“Open it,” I
encouraged. I grabbed it from him when he’d finished and downed it in one quick
motion.
 

“That was supposed to
be for the Jell-O!” He exclaimed as I passed him back the empty bottle.

“Oh, that would have
been too many different flavors!” I said, wiping the remnants of rum off my
cheek.

“Oh,” he nodded,
“You’re so smart!”

I laughed without
intending to. Suddenly I was struck with an idea, “Do you have a blender?”

I turned to dump all
of the Jell-O in the blender he’d pointed towards.

He was already pouring
cans of beer into the blender when I decided, “We need sugar!”

I unscrewed the top,
having dumped half of the contents into the blender when he said, “Um, I think
that’s the salt…”

“You’re not sure?” I
asked, watching the rest of it pore into the blender.

I shook my head as he
shrugged, pressing “smoothie” on the blender since I saw no option for Jell-O
shot. I dumped out the electric blue sludge that resulted into shot glasses,
suddenly feeling sick again.