Author's note: Sometimes when Love's Crash Test Dummy and I are talking about magic pants and this little show called Make it or Break it late at night/early morning, I get these ideas. Back to my old ways-ish. More exploration with different writing styles. You have been warned.
Sober Up, Tuck
You never expected to fall for her.
Kaylie Cruz – uptight, high-strung, pink-obsessed.
Emily Kmetko brought you to the Rock.
But it's Kaylie that steals your attention.
(Along with your heart)
Everything is sweet and slow.
It's like she's a princess.
And you don't mind playing prince charming.
The kisses are soft. Beautiful. Innocent.
Usually you like it rough. Hot. Intense.
But with her it's difference.
So different.
She can be bashful and awkward.
(Virginal)
Then she can be strong and fierce.
(Hot)
The thing about love is it's easy to fall hard.
So hard.
All you see is the good.
The light.
Not the darkness.
Or the secrets.
No matter how obvious.
"Kaylie, what the hell are you doing?"
You know you shouldn't be listening.
(Eavesdropping)
But you can't bring yourself to leave.
"Nicky…"
Her face lights up.
Her eyes widen.
She smiles such a sad smile.
Like she's glimpsing into heaven.
"Y—you're back. I—If you're looking for Payson—"
"Kelly told me."
"What? Sh—she told you what?"
"Madonna arms."
You don't understand.
It's like this Nicky kid sees something you don't.
You squint harder.
"Nicky, it's nothing—"
"Kaylie, it's called Anorexia."
You realize you're gaping.
Your heart sinks down to your stomach.
No.
You've spent almost every day for the last month with her.
You'd notice something like that.
Something serious.
"N—No. I'm the National Champion—"
"God, I get it, alright? We all get it, Kaylie. You don't have to remind us every five seconds. You have a reputation. All that pressure. Of all people, I get it and I'm telling you now. I. Don't. Care. The only thing I do care about is you. You. If you keep doing this, things will get bad. Organ failure. Body deterioration. Dead. Kaylie, I don't want you to die."
The word looks like it hits Kaylie just as hard as it hits you.
Dead.
Die.
"Nicky, I—I'm scared."
The tears fall.
"I—I don't know how to stop."
She nearly collapses.
You twitch on instinct.
A different pair of arms catch her.
Hold her.
Comfort her.
Keep her safe.
"I've got you, Princess. I'm here now."
"N—Nicky, don't leave me."
"Not even if you wanted me to."
You like to think you know her.
This girl you kiss by cars.
(Sometimes in cars)
But when you see her.
Crying in the arms of another.
You realize you don't know her.
And she was always some else's from the start.
They hug.
They hold.
They cry.
Like interlocked rings.
Both sides of a coin.
Reunited.
Entwined.
Complete.
So you turn and walk away.
Now you know.
You're bitter.
Hurt.
Broken.
But you can't blame them.
Kindred souls.
Clouded, teenage minds.
They didn't know they wanted each other.
Until they needed each other.
And that's life.
All along, she didn't need a prince charming.
Kaylie needed a knight in shining armor.
She needed Nicky.
You were just a fill-in.
A lesser version of the real thing.
And as long as she's happy,
You're okay with it.
That's what love means, right?
That's why you promised yourself never to fall in love.
You were right the first time.
Because this feeling is worse than any hangover.
One day you'll convince yourself.
That Kaylie Cruz was just an experiment, an adventure.
You were drunk on the idea of love.
Blindly. Stupidly. Destructively.
Dunk.
And now it's time to sober up.
Sober up, Tuck.