How To Get Your Heart Broken Read online

  “Sit with me,” he ordered when I finally reached him.

  He seemed so sure that I would take him up on his offer, and I was even more annoyed with him than I was before. I hesitated. But every table was filled.

  “Well, I guess since there’s literally nowhere else to sit…” I sighed.

  “It was meant to be,” he said flirtatiously. Flirty. That was the best word to describe everything about his demeanor and, overconfident, of course.

  Mercifully, the server came to deliver my little tea and kettle before I had to respond.

  “Looks like an appetizing breakfast,” he said after the waiter left.

  “You know, I’m sure that old man would love my company,” I said, tilting my head towards a sweet looking old man in a paper boy hat sitting at a table by himself.

  “I’m sure he would.”

  I raised an eyebrow, gathering my things to leave.

  “Oh come on,” he said, putting his fork down to reach for one of my wrists, “Stay, please. I’m just making conversation.”

  I hesitated again, and he smiled easily, confident that he’d convinced me.

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  He picked up his fork and dug back into his hash browns.

  I poured a packet of sugar into my tea, stirring slowly and trying not to get lost in my own thoughts. I could feel his eyes on me. I’d noticed that he’d started eating very slowly; probably trying not to finish before me so he could hang around and bug me.

  “It’s not polite to stare,” I said without looking up.

  He cleared his throat. I could hear the smile in his voice, “I can’t help it.”

  I looked up. His embarrassment seemed genuine. I couldn’t deny that it was flattering, especially considering the way I looked and felt lately.

  “So…are you here with your parents?” He asked, changing the subject.

  I shook my head, finally taking a sip of my tea. “Just the other girls, you’ve met one of them. We’re definitely not related,” I snorted. I love them, but thank God.

  He nodded. And when he realized I wasn’t going to return the question or pose another one he continued talking.

  “Cool. I noticed your class ring,” he said, pointing at the ring on my right ring finger. “Is this vacation a graduating present or something?”

  “Something like that,” I murmured. I almost felt bad about being so short when he was struggling so much to make conversation. But it was easier this way.

  “I just graduated too,” he said half-heartedly. He seemed to be on the verge of giving up.

  “So what’s your plan?” I cringed. I hadn’t meant to encourage him, the question had just slipped out of me, a natural instinct to help an awkward situation.

  His face brightened, but he shook his head, “If I have to answer that question one more time I’ll lose my mind.”

  “I actually know how you feel,” I said truthfully.

  He nodded. “So…what’s your plan?”

  I rolled my eyes, “Very funny.”

  He smiled. “People make you think they had it figured out when they were our age, but I’m pretty sure the adults I know still haven’t figured it out.”

  “But we are the adults now,” I protested.

  He shrugged, “Only technically. I think I’ll always be a kid at heart.”

  “You?” I asked, titling my head. “Hard to imagine.”

  He grinned. “Sarcasm. I like it.”

  I sighed. I always pitied people who felt the need to call out sarcasm in order to process it. I gulped down the rest of my tea.

  “As much fun as this has been, I actually have to run now.”

  I pulled out my wallet, searching for a couple dollars to cover my tea.

  “I’ve got it,” he said quickly.

  I continued on as if I haven’t heard him, putting three dollars on the table. “That’s okay, thanks.”

  I rose out of my seat and grabbed my purse from the back of the chair.

  “I’ll see you around,” I said before making a quick exit. If he did reply, I didn’t hear it.

  I really did have a plan for today. It didn’t including running into the gift shop next door and crying in the bathroom for half an hour over he-who-shall-not-be-named, but that’s what I did.

  --

  “Anyone wanna join me for a swim?”

  I looked up to see Ash standing in front of me in a Pokka-dotted one-piece.

  It was the middle of the afternoon. I’d been home for a few hours. I’d eventually managed to pull myself together after this morning’s slip. I actually felt a little better. Rachel and I were in the living room. Me on my laptop, her mindlessly surfing channels.

  I heard her pause at the sound of Ash’s question. I sent a subtle glance her way, trying to gage her reaction. A stranger wouldn’t have noticed the difference, but I saw the way she tensed up.

  “Maybe later Ash,” I replied anxiously.

  She paused, “…Rachel?”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Rachel turn to her with a surprised glance.

  “Are you that desperate for company?” She asked.

  “I was just trying to be nice,” Ash said. She sounded hurt.

  “Rachel’s not much of a swimmer,” I said, trying to ensure that Ash wouldn’t ask again.

  She gasped, “Rachel, do you not know how to swim?”

  “I always knew you were a racist,” Rachel said with narrowed eyes.

  A part of me wanted to laugh. She’d obviously been caught off guard if that was the best she could come up with. I knew that she was diverting. And I knew she didn’t mean what she’d said, that she’d only said it because she knew it would affect Ash and distract her. But Ash had touched on a sensitive subject, and I was too worried about Rachel to be mad at her.

  “God! I…you know that’s not what I meant! I was just saying that because I haven’t seen you get in the water!” Ash’s cheeks turned crimson.

  “Whatever,” Rachel mumbled. She rose up from her seat and walked out of the living room.

  I bit my lip as I watched her departing figure. This secret was one thing we never talked about. I didn’t know how to ask if she was okay.

  The truth was I’d been too engrossed in my own drama to think about what a whole summer at the beach would mean for Rachel. I didn’t know what to do with the guilt.

  Ash turned to me for support, “Eli, you know I’m not.”

  I shook my head, “Relax Ash, she didn’t mean it. She’s mad about something else.”

  She let out a slow breath, seemingly unsure of whether or not to believe me.

  “Does she really think I’m racist? Is that why she doesn’t like me?”

  “She doesn’t not like you. She just doesn’t understand you,” I said. It didn’t sound very convincing, but I was distracted.

  Ash stood quietly, biting her lip as if she wanted to chew it off.

  “Enjoy your swim Ash!” I added.

  She sighed, grabbed her beach towel from the back of the armchair, and then walked out. I got off the couch and ran up the steps towards Rachel’s room. I didn’t bother knocking; I knew she wouldn’t give me permission to enter if I asked.

  “I’m fine Elle,” she said before I could open my mouth.

  I hesitated; our relationship was built on knowing just how much we could push each other’s boundaries. We both had our respective lists of taboo subjects and I knew this one was at the top of Rachel’s.

  I opened my mouth and closed it again multiple times. Before this summer, Rachel hadn’t even been to the beach since the incident. I knew that just being here was a big step for her, even though she didn’t mention it. I didn’t need to push her any more that she was already pushing herself, I decided.

  “Good to know,” I said casually, plopping down on her bed.

  What I really meant was, ‘I know you’re not fine and I’m here in case you want to talk about it. I’m even going to hang around your room just in case.
’

  But she knew that. At least I hoped she did.

  Sometimes the Understudy Steals the Show

  One of my favorite things about the beach house was how it managed to be relatively private. I enjoyed our relative isolation, despite the evident draw of the water on warm summer days for locals and tourists. To our left was our newly discovered neighbor, and to the right, an unoccupied house. It was almost comical how whomever built these three houses had neglected to pay any attention to spacing, with ours and our idiot neighbor’s being so close together and the home to the right being more than twice that distance away from us.

  The few generic vacation homes behind us were noticeable only because amongst them stood one abandoned house, so decrepit looking it made me laugh, it reminded me so much of Ash’s grandfather’s coffee table. Apparently the house had been owned by a man that used to look after the lighthouse. He’d died there mysteriously, and many people believed the place was haunted. The couple who had bought it and tried restore it had been met with “hostile energy.”

  Alas, with so many (except those brave souls that chose to live next door) too afraid to go near it, there was no one to restore it or tear it down. It stood there, a small yet menacing cloud of darkness over otherwise bright, sunny days.

  Maybe that was why there were always so few people on our side of the beach. Whatever the reason, I didn’t mind. Most beachgoers tended to stay further to the left of us, by the boardwalk surrounded on either side by little gift shops, street vendors, and small restaurants whose names were all along the lines of “Someone’s Famous Something Shop” and in smaller letters, SINCE before your grandparents were born.

  Further down, so far from our little shack they seemed to be in another world were the expensive condos and extravagant homes of those with last names all of the locals were familiar with. They were at the furthest left tip of the crescent shaped shore, and because those places reminded me so much of home, I was glad for their distance. I did not go further than Southport’s “official” gift shop. I did like going into town though. Away from the beach and past the haunted house was Southport’s little downtown. There wasn’t much to see I quickly discovered, but it was a welcomed escape from the sporadic waves of claustrophobia I felt on days when the beach was too crowded.

  I walked up to our front door after returning from downtown, and ran right into Ashton.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I asked.

  “Ummm, over there?” She said questioningly as she pointed to her left.

  I frowned, she noticed. “All for you, remember?” She said sarcastically.

  I noticed how she’d dressed for the occasion. Though she was wearing one of those cardigans she never went anywhere without, she had on a pair of fitted jean shorts. This was a change for Ash, whose style could best be described as “business casual.” No matter the event, she was always dressed formally, ready for a meeting with the president at a moment’s notice.

  I opened my mouth to ask, but she only shrugged as she tucked her chest-length brown hair behind her ear. I’d only seen her wear it down a handful of times in all the years I had known her, but she seemed to be trying something new today. She had even blow dried it, hardly necessary since it was naturally sleek straight anyway, something I had always envied.

  I sighed, “Ash-”

  She put up a finger to stop me, “For you,” she said dramatically, before walking out of the door.

  I smiled. Ash seemed to have changed her perspective on how she was going to deal with this whole thing.

  She was going to keep pretending she was helping me by doing this until I begged her to stop doing me any favors. But, though it was no secret she thought this whole thing was stupid, I think a part of her wanted to win, just to see the look on Rachel’s face when she did.

  I watched her walk up the stairs to his porch and ring the doorbell. Judging by the look on his face, he had been expecting someone else. ‘Would that be me?’

  I headed into the living room, where someone had left the glass doors open. I inched towards them excitedly; with the glass doors open, I could make out almost everything they were saying.

  “Hi, I’m Ashton, your neighbor. Or, one of them.” She pulled a Tupperware container out of her bag and pushed them towards him, “I bought cookies.”

  She looked down shyly, avoiding his half naked body. Apparently he wasn’t into shirts.

  He seemed to notice her discomfort, “I’ll be right back,” he smiled.

  Ash turned towards me, waving and giving me quick thumbs up. I remembered to pretend I wasn’t snooping, glancing down at my phone like I had just received a fascinating text message. He came back fully dressed and invited her to sit on the porch swing with him.

  “Sorry, I’m Jessie by the way, he said.

  I huffed. I suppose I could stop calling him Idiot now, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to. And who knew he could be civil anyway? And why did he choose now to do it?

  She placed the cookies on the small table beside them, meanwhile dropping her bag and the book inside. So quickly I would have missed it if I had blinked, she bent down to reach for her bag, and he seemed to look right where I was standing, and at me. He smiled as if to say he knew I was watching, and then he reached down and helped her pick up her things. He had obviously been trying to annoy me, and it worked.

  I retreated a few feet towards the couch, but I could still make out parts their conversation.

  “Pride and Prejudice, I love that book!” I heard him exclaim.

  I snorted.

  “Really?” Ashton asked in surprise.

  What an idiot! I’m guessing he’d never read it, otherwise he wouldn’t claim to love it.

  “Actually, I left my copy at home…”

  I had had enough. This was absurd. I walked back towards the glass doors, slid them shut, and pulled the blinds over, not caring if he heard.

  Ash was always so… innocent. At the same time, I think Rachel underestimated her. She probably didn’t think he would give her a second look. And sure, Ash was shy and naïve; few guys ever got the chance to look at her face because it was always buried in a book, preferring fantasies of Mr. Darcy and Hamlet to the unappealing reality that is the teenage boy. But with her emerald green eyes, long legs, and olive toned skin, complemented by a small array of freckles that only made her more endearing, she was far from unattractive.

  Despite her lack of confidence she was probably smarter than both Rachel and I combined. And opposites do attract. Rachel was…too much of what he was used to. And I, well…I didn’t think he could handle me. Besides, I wasn’t exactly inviting.

  I thought of Ash, with her cookies on the table and her eagerness to lend Pride and Prejudice to someone who’d probably never heard of Jane Austen. She was the picture you’d find next to the definition of inviting.

  Ok, So Maybe I Think You’re Kinda Hot

  “Tell me you’re not wallowing about he-who-shall-not-be-named. You’re giving him more attention than he deserves,” Rachel said as I approached the couch with a loud sigh. She was wearing another pair of barely-there shorts and a T-shirt she had never returned to me. I never bothered asking for them back anymore, I just returned the favor whenever I borrowed her clothes.

  “Mmm, not wallowing,” I mumbled as I plopped down beside her. I had actually committed to the opposite; I was aggressively not thinking about he-who-shall-not-be-named which, unfortunately, was why I had been thinking about the-idiot-next-door.

  “Whatever,” she muttered.

  “Honestly! Our idiot neighbor is a great distraction.”

  She sent me a suspicious glance.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking. Please, I just called him an idiot,” I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, with you, that’s a term of endearment,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I immaturely flicked her arm.

  “Ouch!” she exclaimed, slapping my thigh in response. This was the sort of thing that always made p
eople think we were sisters despite the shades of difference.

  Without taking her eyes off the television screen, she pulled out the hair tie that had held her hair up and handed me a comb. She moved to sit on the floor in between my legs and waited expectantly.

  I stared at the back of her head with narrowed eyes. Had we gotten to the point where she didn’t even ask?

  “Please?” She croaked out, as if it hurt her throat to say the word.

  I released another dramatic sigh and begin moving her mound of curls into a French braid. Even though I always acted like I was doing her a favor, I actually enjoyed doing this for her. She didn’t let just anyone touch her hair, so I was always pleased that this was one of our little traditions.

  “What are you watching anyway?” I asked, finally glancing at the T.V. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of it since I’d entered.

  “Up,” she said in a whisper.

  “Aww!” I exclaimed. “That was such a sweet-”

  “Shhh, I’m missing the best part.”

  I rolled my eyes. She had seen this movie at least fifteen times now. Rachel had an obsession with animated films, a truth I always used to embarrass her after she managed to convince people that she had a heart of stone.

  “Wait, where’s Ashton?” She asked.

  “I’m sorry, weren’t you the one just shushing me? Why do you want to know anyway?” I questioned. Rachel didn’t normally care where Ashton was.

  She took her eyes off the screen to give me a suspicious glance, then reached for the remote and paused the film. Without a word, she got up and headed towards the front door.

  “Rachel,” I said, confirming what she already seemed to realize.

  I tilted my head towards the glass doors as she turned back towards me. She walked towards them, opening the shades the slightest bit and then gasping in surprise. They were still sitting on the porch.

  Okay, it hadn’t been that long, but for some reason I didn’t like the two of them together.

  I got up to join her as she peeked between the blinds. She seemed torn between amusement and annoyance.