How To Get Your Heart Broken (7 page)

And that's
when I knew I'd found it. What she'd been trying to hide, I mean.

I Don’t Want to Be Your Sugar,
Sugar

June 20
^th
,
2015
               
The Day I Met Julian

I was just minding my own business.
I was sitting near the beach on this bench I’d found. Etched into it were
different markings; wild declarations of love by teenagers, some flower
drawings, hearts, stick figures, proclamations of everlasting friendships,
“Tori & Brit: BFFs Forever, ” other drawings I couldn’t identify, some I
didn’t want to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. Somewhere in the distance,
birds were chirping. Children were merrily splashing each other and those who
hadn’t heard about the hole in the ozone layer lay out to bake in the sun. No
one bothered me; it was just me, Dostoyevsky, and my stack of beef jerky. That
is, until he came along.

I
was smiling up at the sky, reveling in how good the sun felt on my face. There
was a slight breeze, which blew my hair in all directions. He came out of
nowhere, he said nothing. When I looked at him, he smiled, but that was all. I
slid over, to give him room, and because I felt uncomfortable being so close to
a stranger. But he did the same, like he had taken my actions as an invitation.
So I slid over again, abandoning all attempts at subtlety in hopes that he
would get the hint. He did it again. And again.

And
so grandfather, we continued this little dance until there was no bench left.
He was so close, much closer than common courtesy permits, so close I could see
the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. I turned towards him, forced
to lean back because otherwise our noses would have been touching. I was ready
to stand my ground, but he smiled again, like he was amused by the whole thing,
like he was just hoping to get a reaction out of me. I grabbed my beef jerky,
clutched Crime and Punishment in my arms and slid onto the sand. I tried to
mimic his smile, wanting to master his frustrating yet undeniably handsome
expression.

I’ll
always remember the first words we spoke to each other. “You can have the
bench,” I said and he replied, “I’d rather sit next to you.”
 
And that’s how it began, the moment that
changed my life.

---

I raised an eyebrow at Jessie. He was
leaning on the frame of our front door, looking as cocky and cheerful as ever.
He had come to borrow “sugar.”

He said it suggestively with that stupid
smirk on his face, like
I
was
supposed to be “
sugar
.”

I shook my head; I was
still a little frazzled from nearly getting caught. I’d barely had time to put
away Ash’s diary before she ran into the room.

“
Jessie’s asking for an ‘
Ali’
,
I’m guessing he meant you,” she’d said when she came back.

I’d given her a weird
look and practically ran out of her room, but I was fairly certain she hadn’t
suspected anything.

I felt guilty for what
I’d done, but what was I supposed to say?
“Hey,
Ash, I think I found what you were looking for. By the way, who the hell is
Julian?”
Yeah, right.

“Not interested!” I
exclaimed to Jessie impulsively. I tried to slam the door but it seemed to get
caught on something. I realized it was his hand when I heard him squeal.
 
There were a slurry of curse words from him.

I saw Rachel look up
from the T.V. to give me a questioning look, one that said, “Is
this
your way of charming him?”

I just couldn’t stop
myself from disliking him long enough to try to “charm” him especially after
how stupidly he’d acted the last time I saw him. But he didn’t seem to mind.
After all, he’d wanted
my
sugar.

I opened the door
slowly, waiting for him to move his fingers. I bit my lip, trying to give him
my most innocent look, “Whoops,” I muttered.
 
There was an expression of bewilderment on his face.

“I just wanted to
talk,” he pouted. “And I’m pretty sure you did that on purpose!”

“I swear I didn’t,” I
protested.

“Then why are you
smiling?”

“Because I can’t
believe you think I would do that! Here, come in,” I said, pulling him in with
his good hand.

“Cool place. Hey
Rach!” He shouted as I dragged him towards the kitchen. I rolled my eyes,
apparently it hadn’t hurt
that
much.
  

I opened our freezer,
wondering if frozen waffles could suffice as an improvised ice pack. I decided
against it, grabbing a hand towel to put ice in before handing it to him.

“Woah,” I said once
I’d actually looked at his hand. It had quickly turned an angry red, making me
suddenly remorseful.
 
“Sorry, I honestly
didn’t mean to.”

“You can kiss it and
make it better,” he said with a smirk. And as quickly as it had come, all
traces of remorse were gone. I rolled my eyes as I turned away.

“Wait, Eli,” he said.
He put his good hand over the one I had on the counter.

Something about my
expression must have discouraged him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled,
pulling his hand away. “Look… about the other day.

“It’s cool,” I said
quickly.

 
“No, wait‒”

“Can we just pretend
the whole thing never happened?” I sighed. I’d gotten tired of talking about
this.
  

He stayed silent for a
long time, staring at me as if he were trying to read my mind. I didn’t look
away.

“Okay,” he finally
sighed, “If that’s what you want.”

I gave him a small
smile before looking down again, lifting the ice to check his hand.

“Just admit you did it
on purpose,” he whispered.

“I did not!” I
couldn’t help laughing. “You honestly think so little of me.”

“No,” he said, “I just
think you’ve got a temper.”

I looked up, raising
an eyebrow at him.

“I like it,” he
grinned.

“Could you blame me if
I had?”

I laughed at his
insulted expression.

Plot Twist Ahead

I fumbled through the
pages of Ashton’s diary, trying to see if she had updated it. Her burgeoning
relationship was making me very curious, and honestly, the slightest bit
anxious. As cynical as it sounded, I had a bad feeling about this Julian
character, and I could think of no other way to monitor the situation. So I was
simultaneously relieved to find that she’d written a couple entries in the past
few days
and
concerned about the fact
that they all seemed to be about him. I flipped to the first new entry. It was
different from the previous ones; for one, there was no tittle or date.

 
“Let me be
honest with you,” he said as he turned towards the beach. “I’m not looking for
anything serious, but I like you. I think you’re pretty…” He turned back
towards me, assessing, “Beautiful actually. And I think you belong with someone
much nicer and more…ethereal than me. But some strange twist of fate has kept
that from happening. Their loss is my gain.”

He turned towards me and smiled, “What do you think of my
proposition?”

I froze. He didn’t seem to notice. Casually, he asked
“What’s your name by the way?” As if that was the logical follow up to
everything he had just said.

I stared at my lap. I wished I were confident, I wished I
were brave. I wished he didn’t scare me. But the more he spoke the less I
wanted to look away, and the more I did.
   

“Well, I’m Julian,” he smiled brightly. It was the most
extraordinary smile I had ever seen.
  

I took a breath, tried not to get lost in the ocean in
his eyes and whispered, “Ash.”

“Is that a
nickname?”

 
I nodded.

He nodded too, “Well, my stepsisters call me Jules, when
they’re trying to annoy me, that is.”

He looked at the notebook in my hand and then pulled it
out of my grasp, carefully sliding his thumb where I’d placed mine as a
bookmark.

Skin
inside out

Flightless,
flailing

Danger is
nearing

A kiss, a
breath

A new
start, a sudden death

 
“So you’re a
poet?”

 
I managed a shrug.
He nodded before placing my notebook back in my limp hands. Then he took the
pen from my other hand. He started scratching on the space between us on the
bench. I watched as he ruined my beautiful and very expensive pen. My favorite
pen, the one dad had engraved for me a few Christmases ago, and I didn’t
mind...
 

I didn’t mind that he’d ruined my pen. I didn’t mind that
the heart looked like it was drawn by a third grader with a broken wrist. I
didn’t mind anything.

I flipped the page to
find a more traditional entry, titled with the question I’d been pondering
since I’d first discovered her journal.

June 21
^rd
, 2015
              
Who Is Julian???

I saw him again today. I
went back to that bench, hoping he would show up, and he finally did, just as I
was about to leave. I showed him some of my poems, which no one has ever read
and he seemed to like them. Maybe he’s just a really good liar. I feel like I
would believe anything he said.

And he ruined my pen, the
one that Dad engraved for me a few Christmases ago, but it was while he was
writing our names on the bench, and I couldn’t really bring myself to mind.

I found it odd that
the two entries seemed to recount the same incident, but it wasn’t exactly like
I was at liberty to ask questions. I pondered the possible significance of this
as I continued to flip through.

 
June 22
^nd
, 2015

His hair is this rich brown,
like the color of milk chocolate. It’s also really curly. His eyes are blue,
light blue, like the color of the sky today. They are huge; beautiful, and
intriguing. He is rather pale, like he hasn’t been spending much time outside
even though he’s at the beach. He has a few, sporadically placed freckles,
there’s one on the side of his jaw that I think is my favorite. When his mouth
is closed his smile is sort of lopsided, but he usually smiles with teeth, and
then angels sing. He’s taller than me, but only by an inch or two. He has huge
feet and a large scar on his ankle. Based on his physique I’m assuming he plays
sports, despite the paleness. He looks like a Greek god and I’m sure he could
have any girl he wanted. I don’t know why he chose me. He sort of dresses like
a homeless person, but he is so beautiful that he can get away with it. I try
to remember his face when I’m not with him, because it feels like waking up and
finding out the best dream you’ve ever had is real. For some reason I can never
get it quite right, and that always makes me want to see him again, so I can
try again, to memorize him.

I don’t know much about him.
I just know he isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. Honestly, I don’t know
what’s going to happen between us, but I’m scared. It’s like we’re from two
different worlds, two different galaxies. It’s like what he said today; someone
like me doesn’t belong with someone like him, but I think I’m drawn to the
poetics of that. If this is going to be my first heartbreak, I can’t wait. What
can I do? It’s fate; it might as well be etched in stone.
 
I mean, it’s etched on that bench.

June 24
^th
, 2015 ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! (And
the plot thickens)

He knows how to surf and play guitar. He laughs
when he doesn’t want to answer a question, and I’m convinced that his smile is
the cure to depression.
I think he sees everything
differently from the way the rest of the world does, and it’s impossible to get
tired of the sound of his voice. I can’t believe I’m so obsessed with someone I
didn’t even know existed a few days ago.
I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day
to learn everything there is to know about Julian.

 
But some
things are too good to be true. Today he mentioned something that, to say in
the least, complicates things. Julian just so happens to be our next door
neighbor, which is a problem for many reasons, but mostly because of one very
important one.

And then I knew.