The Bad Boy’s Heart Read online

  “Get better soon, sweet girl.” Her signature scent of Chanel No. 5 surrounds me, and I almost break down. Cassandra is the closest I’ve gotten to a motherly figure recently, and all I want is to hug her, ask her to take the pain away. She kisses me on the forehead, sweeping my hair to the side.

  “Call me if you need anything. Jason knows how to re-dress the wound; he can tell you everything you need to know about that. But remember what I said, make her feel happy.”

  Is that even possible?

  ***

  I slip in and out of sleep. When I wake up for a few short minutes, Beth gives me my pain killers and a huge glass of freshly squeezed OJ. Before I know it, I am asleep again. Given that I haven’t slept more than three hours a day during the past two weeks, it is a welcome reprieve. Due to the medication, my sleep remains dreamless, for the most part.

  Until I am woken up by my worst nightmare.

  “I just need to see her once; that’s it. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

  “I can’t…if someone found out that I’d even let you in…Cole, they’ll never forgive me.”

  Megan. I recognize Megan’s voice. When did she get here? She usually visits in the morning, and we study together while I try not to ask her about him through Alex. She pretends, too, like she isn’t dying to tell me things I may or may not be ready to hear.

  It’s an incredibly healthy partnership.

  But right now, right this very second, I want to throttle her, wring her neck with that red hair of hers. After all, I’ve started developing a cannibalistic hatred for redheads.

  My breathing starts to quicken; my heart starts to race. He’s here. He’s so close, right outside my door. I’m hearing his voice a month after I started deleting all his voice mails and leaving his texts unread. I cannot find it in myself to delete those, always promising myself to read them when I’m ready.

  I’m so not ready.

  And he’s just a few feet away from me.

  I swear, I don’t breathe as I listen in on their conversation.

  “She’s sleeping, right? I’ll go in and be right out. Travis won’t know. I’ll leave before they get back.”

  Make him go away, Megan. You can do this. Please don’t let him in. I won’t be able to take it. It’s taken me so long to put the pieces back together, if only tentatively. I might break apart at the sight of his face.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this…Alex shouldn’t have told you. You hurt her, you hurt her so much, and now you expect me to just forget that and let you be with her. You haven’t seen what she’s been like…” Her voice breaks off. She sounds close to tears, and again the guilt comes back to haunt me. How bad have I been for the last four weeks? How did I not see that I’d been hurting the people who love me? And then I feel anger, anger all directed toward him because he ruined everything. Just when I’d started to think that my life had changed for the best, he went ahead and swept the rug from beneath my feet.

  Why does he even care now?

  “I love her, Megan. I love her so damn much. Don’t you think it’s killing me to know that I hurt her? You think I’m doing any better? I have to see her…I just need to see that she’s okay.”

  “She’s not okay!” Megan cries out, but lowers her tone before continuing. “She’s not okay, and I don’t know if she ever will be. You were everything to her. I don’t know what you’ve done, but whatever it is, you cut her deep.”

  “And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I’ve lost the girl who was supposed to be my forever. I’m in hell, Megan; just give me this.”

  Don’t listen to him—he’s lying. If he loved me as much as he says he does, he wouldn’t have shattered me like this. A tear slips down my cheek, and it’s followed by another. Everything I’ve done to patch myself up goes to waste. And it’s like I’m bleeding from every single pore on my skin, there’s so much pain.

  “Fine. Go see her, but you only have five minutes. I don’t know how long Beth’s therapy sessions take, but Travis will want to be back soon. She’s asleep; don’t do anything to wake her up. Your mom said she needs to rest.”

  Shit.

  I think I die for about the time it takes my brain to spring into action.

  But then I decide that I won’t throw a tantrum and that I need to stop acting too affected. People break up all the time. Men cheat; that’s what they do. It’s up to me now to decide whether I want to spend the rest of my life mourning the loss, or whether I should put it all behind me.

  It would be so much easier if I still didn’t love him so much.

  I turn onto my side, my back toward the door. I bury my head into the pillow, hoping my tear-streaked face isn’t visible. Then I try relaxing my body so that it’s somewhat believable that I’m asleep. Thankfully, there’s a blanket covering most of me so that he won’t be able to see just how stiff I’ve become and how shallow my breathing is.

  The door creaks open.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Can he hear how loud my heart’s beating?

  Footsteps. I’ll probably never forget the sound of his boots. It used to comfort me, at one point. I always associated it with him, my safe place. Now there’s just hurt and pain and then some more of it.

  Then my senses are swarmed by his scent, the citrusy, woodsy smell that defines him. I hadn’t realized how much I craved it until now. I’m torn between screaming accusations at him, hitting him, and begging him to lie down beside me and hold me in his arms. How weak does that make me sound, huh?

  The bed shifts, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

  The bandaged hand is toward him, and the moment he gingerly touches my wrist with the back of his hand, I nearly jolt out of bed. It takes every ounce of willpower to just lie there. Anger simmers just beneath the surface because I like his touch too much. But then there’s relief that he’s here. He’s really here.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. His voice quivers, his body shakes, and once again it’s a testament of my will that I don’t react.

  He’s quiet for a while, but then I feel wetness on my arm and it’s followed by more. It’s when I hear his breath catch that I realize that he’s crying.

  Oh God.

  He can’t! He can’t do this! He doesn’t get to cry. He isn’t allowed to make me hurt for him. He’s supposed to leave me alone and let me forget that he ever existed. I can’t feel this for him. Please stop; please don’t do this to me.

  “You know I’ll always love you. So, I’ll wait; if you ever decide to come back to me, I’ll be there.”

  He presses his lips to my hairline in the softest of kisses. It’s barely there, but I feel it to the tips of my toes.

  Then he’s gone, and I’m left broken all over again.

  Chapter Two: I Currently Have the Self-Worth of an Amoeba

  “So, is it true you tried to kill yourself because Cole broke up with you?”

  I stare at the door of my locker, observing the rusted metal and the paint that never stops chipping. It looks strong, sturdy, even if it’s aged. If I were to bash my head in repeatedly, it would cause some sort of damage, right? I might even talk the school nurse into giving me a, “She’s crazy; never let her enter the building again pass.” But then again, if I calculated how many times in my life the “what ifs” actually came true, the math could probably be done on a single hand.

  Oblivious to my suicidal thoughts, Stacie, an ex-Nicole minion, continues her probing. Inwardly, I curse myself for not ditching the bandage when I could. If it’s not bad enough that I currently have the self-worth of an amoeba, of course, to these people it would look like I slashed my wrists courtesy of a broken heart. Apparently, our breakup has created quite the hype and caused conspiracy theories to spin out of control.

  The first one I squashed was that I was pregnant. To someone who’d always been fat, being told that you looked like you could possibly be carrying another human being inside you when you’re not really reduces a girl’s self esteem to
the size of a puddle.

  I turn to face the tiny blonde who’s still wearing her cheerleading uniform even though there are no games left to cheer for or any tournaments to practice for. She’s the kind of person who perhaps lets this uniform define her; without it, she’d be lost. The cheerleader, that’s what she’ll always be.

  Opening my mouth to give an explanation I’ve already given more times than I can count today, I’m stopped before I manage to get the words out.

  “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your boyfriend nailing Melissa in the girl’s bathroom, Stacie?”

  You’d think it would be Beth being this brutally defensive of me, but I’m blown away when I see Nicole towering intimidatingly over her former partner in crime.

  Huh. People never cease to amaze you, do they?

  Stacie struggles to find words, sputtering and choking on half-formed responses. Finally, when she thinks she’s got something good enough to throw in Nicole’s face, a malicious grin spreads across her face. It turns her otherwise good-girl, angelic features vixen-like.

  “What is this? The ‘dumped by the Stone brother solidarity club’? Isn’t that sweet,” she sneers, gesturing between the two of us, “two ex-bfs brought together because their boyfriends didn’t think they were good enough? How darn sweet.”

  Whereas I’m horribly embarrassed and want to be anywhere but here, Nicole is eerily calm and composed. Instead, she gives Stacie a look that would make a lesser women cry. I would know. I’ve been subjected to the look more times than I can count.

  “Well, at least we had the pleasure of enjoying their fine, fine bodies for however long it lasted. Last I heard, neither would go near you with a ten-foot pole. What exactly was it that you got tested for at the health clinic last month?”

  Ouch.

  I’m so glad I’m not Stacie. Poor girl, she looks like she would be relieved if Armageddon arrived right here, right now. Oh well, she had it coming. I’m pretty sure she’s one of the strongest proponents of the “Tessa tried to off herself” brigade.

  “You’re such a bitch! I’m glad Jay broke up with your sorry ass.” Stacie’s face is turning a rather garish shade of purple at an alarming rate. I’m afraid she might have a stroke; Nicole needs to back off, but the poor girl is giving her one too many excuses. She’s going to get pulverized. That sorry excuse of a retaliation is just more ammunition for someone with the skills of Nicole.

  “At least we had monogamy, honey. I don’t know how I’d feel about my boyfriend being more active than a stud horse.”

  She shoots, she scores. The round goes to Nicole Andrea Bishop; actually, wait, she wins the whole freaking championship. Someone give her the gaudy gold belt now. I look at Stacie and am actually scared for her. She needs to run, run right now before she suffers a nervous breakdown. Smart girl that she isn’t but decides to be, she huffs and shoots us both a death glare and stomps away. I think she might need a therapist after this.

  I turn to Nicole, who’s still watching her latest victim stomp away and try to figure out her latest angle. Why on earth would she stand up for me? Is it because Cole and I are no longer together? Does she think she finally has a shot with him now? Is she going to use me again?

  I really, truly don’t know; besides, both my brain and heart aren’t ready for going into that. Who knows what twisted scheme Nicole’s working on now? What I do, however, know is that from now onward, I need to focus on the positives in my life. It’s been a month of moping, and while I’m yet to recover from the devastation that is my poor heart, I’m done hurting the people around me. Time to man up, Tessa.

  “Thanks?” I say to her and she simply shrugs in response.

  “I always wanted to say all that to her. It was even more fun than I expected.”

  Leaning against my locker, I study her. “Do you spend your days trying to figure out how to hurt people?”

  Facing me, she crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow. “Is that how you normally thank people who help you out?”

  I huff out, “I never asked for your help. And it’s not like I don’t remember that; that was me seven months ago.”

  She whistles lowly. “Well then, next time when I see one of them going at you, I’ll just leave you to the sharks.”

  Feeling bad about being mean to her, I stop her as she’s walking away, “I’m sorry. You were just trying to help, but I don’t really agree with your method.”

  “Too soon?”

  “Too soon,” I agree and she nods.

  “But can I ask you something?” Here it comes. She’s going to ask me about the breakup. Then she’s going to ask if Cole’s available and if, in the shadow of our newly formed truce, she could steal him as smoothly as she’s done in the past.

  Honestly, I might have a love-hate, mostly hate, relationship with the guy right now, but I’d rather have my hair catch fire than see them together, or even entertain the idea.

  Preparing to bring my claws out, I practically snap at her, “What?”

  “I get it that you’re really affected by whatever happened with Cole, but Tessa, what the hell are you doing to yourself? You’re mopey and letting people walk all over you. I mean, if you had the nerve to stand up to me, the rest of these shitholes should be a walk in the park. When are you going to get a grip and control what’s happening?”

  I’m rendered speechless. After people tiptoeing around me for so long, never testing my emotional stability, Nicole’s words are like a bucket of ice-cold water. I’m thrown for a loop, nothing coming to mind as to what could be the right answer. I don’t know how to answer her.

  It’s because she’s right. I’m doing it again, being weak and a pushover. The only difference is that now it’s not Nicole who’s bullying me, it’s my feelings and my stupid, pathetic, blackened heart. All it wants to do is retreat into my shell and whine and cry. It’s what I used to do before Cole, and now I’m doing it because of him. Oh boy, have I come a twisted full circle.

  “Think about what I just said. Don’t let one bad relationship experience knock you down. If you go back to being who you were at the start of the year, then everything he’s done for you becomes pointless.”

  I know who she’s referring to, but it’s not the argument I want to hear. I don’t owe Cole anything, not anymore. But she’s right about one thing—I can’t go back to being who I was. That would just make every life-changing experience I’ve had this year a waste of time, and nothing’s worth doing that.

  “Is she bothering you?”

  Jay, bless him, has been trying his best to act like my knight in shining armor. No one dares ask offending questions when he’s around, so he’s taken the role of my bodyguard this finals week. Most importantly, it wards off Cole and buys me some time while I get myself ready to talk to him.

  It’s only because I need some closure; that’s it.

  Though the look on his face when he sees Jay around me is kinda like a kick to the stomach. He looks hurt, but he has no right to do so. He doesn’t get to act hurt and be the victim here. But Jay doesn’t seem fazed and is really insistent on being well…anywhere where I am. I can’t be bothered to talk to him about it. He shows up at all the inappropriate times; this one would be a prime example.

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Stone; I am capable of having a civil conversation.”

  It’s weird that she refers to him as Stone, and it makes my heart ache.

  “Not with her, you aren’t. She doesn’t need your shit right now.”

  I roll my eyes. “Jay, it’s okay. She was just helping out. I had a little run-in with Stacie Dixon and she stepped in.”

  Jay narrows his eyes at her, but Nicole doesn’t flinch. It’s really strange to see them like this and an even more awkward position to be in. I have no idea what their post-breakup relationship is like. From what I’ve heard, they avoid each other at any cost, so it’s not the easiest thing to be in the middle of their showdown.

  “Stay away fr
om her. You’ve done enough damage as it is; don’t bother being her friend now.”

  “Hey!” I want to hit him over the head for being so insensitive, but my words fall on deaf ears. Nicole’s raring and ready to have a go at him.

  “And you haven’t? God, do you know what you did to her? You’re as much to blame as I am! Stop acting so high and mighty, Jason. You always knew what I did or why I did it.”

  I don’t wait to hear his response and leave them to hash it all out. If the hatred that’s radiating from the two of them for each other is any indication of how they feel, then it’s a miracle that their relationship survived as long as it did. Maybe all relationships are meant to be doomed. Every single one I’ve witnessed in my life is an example of it, the biggest being my parents.

  I shudder at the thought of one day ending up like them and go to take my last final and that is calculus. If that doesn’t bring you down, then I don’t know what does. Oh wait, I have the perfect answer to the question.

  It’s the person who has sat next to him during every single exam this week.

  When I reach the classroom, I ignore Cole and sit at my desk, making a big show of digging my pencils and pens out from my tote. He always tries to catch my eye, but I religiously try not to and am pretty good at it. I usually end up finishing my exam early and leave early, and he doesn’t have the opportunity to corner me after class.

  Except today.

  It’s calculus, and despite all my hard studying, math is not a monster I can defeat. By the end of the first hour, I’m pulling at my hair and resisting the urge to just get up and leave. Megan’s tutored me and helped me catch up with any classes I’d zoned out in, but this is beyond saving. I struggle until I’m somewhat certain I’ll get a decent grade and then start packing up my things. Today I finish at the same time as everyone, so my usually evasive technique fails me.

  Megan and Beth are taking an exam for another class right now, so there’s no one I could’ve had stand guard. This is exactly why, as I’m briskly walking away, Cole catches up with me.

  I could pretend that I haven’t been staring at him this week. I could pretend that it doesn’t give me any satisfaction when I notice how tired and haggard he looks all the time. The circles under his eyes tell me he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s lost weight, his hair’s longer, and he no longer bothers to shave daily. Even today, there must be a five-day stubble on his face.