A/N: Hola my lovely readers. I keep amazing myself at how quickly I finished this chapter. It only took me TWO days. Needless to say, I'm very proud. This story is my baby :)
I can't say how disheartening it is when a chapter has been released for weeks and it only gets two reviews. I spend hours working on these updates for you guys and you can't spend three minutes writing an encouraging review. I almost considered not updating at all. You know there are stories that have been out for three months and get like 300 reviews? Do you know how bad that feels?
But on a positive note, shout-outs to my only reviewers for last chapter: EveofFaith, and Ready123. This chapter is dedicated to EveofFaith, who before today I thought was going to be my only reviewer.
Also, thanks to GracelesslyFalling for the song lyrics below. Her story introduced me to this lovely song.
But enough rambling. Chapter 13!
I'm terrified of what you do
My stomach screams just when I look at you
Run far away
So I can breathe
Even though you're far from suffocating me
I can't set my hopes too high
'Cause every hello, ends with a goodbye
- Catch Me, Demi Lovato
Chapter 13
His delectable cocoa eyes pierced through mine. Daring me to challenge him.
I took up their offer. "I ca- I can't trust you. I can't trust anyone." I had never uttered the words aloud, entertaining the illusion that if the thought was never spoken, it didn't exist at all. Now that they were bare and on display, I felt like I had cleared a back corner of my mind and a tiny part of the rubbish in my heart disappeared. I could never pinpoint why I was so withdrawn socially. Why I never had an extensive group of friends. Why I had never possessed a true boyfriend.
I had trust issues. How cliché.
He was asking me to allow him the one thing that I had never been able to give anyone since . . . well, for a long time.
It had been fun so far. Jake had been fun so far. One of my old teachers back home had told us once, "Why do people in high school relationships take them so seriously? I never had a girlfriend for more than three or four months at a time. I wanted to just have fun. High school is supposed to be fun. Don't worry about all crap. You have the rest of your life to be serious. Go have fun." I thought that was what I wanted. A fling that gets serious way too fast. That didn't change when I moved out here, and met him. But now, I realized that fun is the highest that I wanted to aspire to. No more of the crap.
"Who made you like that?" His voice took me out of stupor. Why did he have to be so damn concerned all the freaking time? I didn't want to be with someone that was always perfect. Where's the thrill in that?
"It doesn't matter anymore." My words, barely above a whisper, betrayed my sentiments towards the person in question. That was a chapter of my life that I had no intention of flipping back to.
"Ce . . . just- please stay." He pleaded; his eyebrows folded together, his forehead creased. He attempted to caress my cheek. I shied away from his burning touch. Did I wake up with the mission to go out and destroy my love's heart?
"No! I need to go back home. Home. To Tennessee." I started to walk away, turning my back on the one boy that I thought I had ever truly loved. "I'm sorry."
I paused, spinning on the heel of my foot.
"Actually, I'm not."
When did my heart turn so hard?
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
After class let out Thursday, I sped straight home. I almost forgot about Abbey in my hurry to get out of the horror movie I like to call High School: The Hell-Hole.
We were leaving for Nashville today, and I was ready to finally shake off the dust of this crummy town and get back down south in Dixie. I had romanticized about the small town way of living for as long as I can remember. The fantasy faded when I was shipped off here.
I bounded up the staircase, snatched my suitcase off the floor with both hands, and lugged the huge mass as fast as my stubby legs could handle. As I started to descend the semi-steep incline of the stairs, the burden of the bag pulled me forward, and I tumbled down the stairs. When the walls ceased to spin around me in dizzying circles, I checked for any broken bones. Nothing was poking out through my skin, so I took that as a good sign. Using the walls for support, I heaved myself up by the fingertips. I glanced warily up to the top of the stairs. Wow, I fell down like 10 steps. Why am I never injured when these things happen? Maybe my Catholic grandmother prays to the Saint of Injuries or some such dribble, and he/she is watching over me. Although, I couldn't help but think that if Jacob had been right at my side, then I wouldn't have just wasted the past 45 seconds of your life.
Even when the thought of him made me want to go harm an innocent pillow, that one thought of him completely consumed my mind.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
I trudged slowly down the steps of the front porch. I guess that rough-and-tumble with the stairs had a bigger effect on me than I thought. My whole body was aching.
Why did my mother insist on buying suitcases without wheels?
I took my usual place in our shiny gray station wagon's backseat (formally called a Volvo CrossCountry, informally called The Silver Bullet). I always sat on the far right, my sister in the far left seat. It was a silent tradition that had lived on through the grade-school era.
I settled into my designated spot on switched on my iPod. I quickly flicked the touch screen, racing through hours of Ke$ha and Lady Antebellum until the display finally rested on Paramore. Bring on the angry music.
I cranked the volume up so all that filled my mind was the sound of guitar riffs and wailing vocals. I needed to think, but I didn't want to. This was one of those times where I really wanted to either drink myself silly, or take a really long drag on a bong or joint or something of the sort.
Somehow, the lingering, painful bits of though overcame Hayley Williams.
A shot of soreness ran through my side. It's getting worse. I hadn't spoken to Jake since The Incident. As the week passed, the pain progressively got worse and worse until it felt like I had just endured a 4 hour dance practice every time I took a step. The muscle cream didn't help anymore.
I spent this week focusing on school and Marie and Crew. My grades had started slipping since I spent all of my free time with Jake. And I have a feeling that my normal lunch table felt the effects of him too. After-school runs to Panera and Sonic became routine these past couple days, and Tuesday we made the trek to Port Angeles for some shopping.
Of course, I had to endure the obvious, generic questions, "What's the status of you and Jake? Are you still together? Did you break up?"
Honestly, I didn't know where we stood.
My parents finally dragged their butts out of the house, and my mom revved up the engine. I swear, when they died and I inherited this car, I was spray painting The Silver Bullet on its side in black.
As we pulled away from the garage, I flicked my eyes towards the woods. My heart jump-started. Jake was standing right there, in all his wolfish glory. His eyes, devoid of life, mirrored back my own. I raised my hand, almost waving, but not quite making it.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
In light of the events experienced coming up here, my parents made the enlightened decision to fly to Nashville from Port Angeles instead of making the trip solely by car. I willed my eyes to stay open, forcing myself not to fall asleep on the way to the airport. I didn't get much sleep last night on account of the fact that I couldn't move without my body aching in protest. Oh well. I could just rest on the plane.
I got a good six hours of sleep. At least until I felt someone slapping my arm repeatedly. I cracked my eyes. Abbey's freckled face was staring back at me. "We're here."
I glanced out of the tiny sphere they had the nerve to call a window, looking for some sign that we were no longer in Yankee country. But all I saw was empty tarmacs and endless concrete. I groaned in protest, rubbing my eyes furiously. I clumsily got up out of the seat, grabbing my bag out of the overhead compartment along the way.
I walked out of that little enclosed passageway that connected the plane to the, um, airport. My eyes drank everything in, trying to commit it all to memory. I wanted to remember so I'd have something to take with me when I go back.
And then I saw the loveliest sight of all.
My friends. They were all there. Jenni, Lizzy, Emily, Jordan, Sara. I shuffled over to them as fast as I could with the fifty pound suitcase slung over my shoulder. I reached them at last, trying to hug all of them at the same time.
It didn't quite work out. But at least I made an effort.
"Come on girl. We're gonna party." Sara grabbed by hand, dragging me out of the terminal.
I laughed, "Where? We're underage."
"We're headed over to Bo's condo." I forgot about that option. My friend Bo (short for Robert St. Michael) lived in a condo complex in the Gulch, the trendiest neighborhood in the whole Middle Tennessee area. We partied there frequently, by the rooftop pool in the summertime, in the lounge in the winter. But maybe we could still go skinny dipping.
I looked back toward my parents. "Go on! You can head on over to the hotel tomorrow morning."
I squealed my thanks and raced over to them. We pulled out of the lot, and I took in my hometown. The trees are what I loved the most. All maple and sycamores.
No pine as far as the eye could see.
Please step up to the plate and review! Each means more than I can write in ordinary words.
P.S. – I did a major rewrite of some of the previous chapters. For all of my old readers, read them again and see if you can spot the differences. Thank you and goodnight!