Getting It Right

It's Not Me, It's You

CHAPTER ONE

"Sorry, it's just not working out."

My heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Again.

"W-what? Why? Everything was going so well, we were so in love...right?"

His sea blue eyes that were once filled with so much emotion for me - that I once fell so in love with - now held no emotion, no regret, no sympathy -no anything; just bored emotion filled with no interest.

"That's the thing Jamie, you were so in love, but for me, it was just fun, like...a little experiment, you know?"

Well, ouch. That kinda stung. A lot.

"So, you never took this relationship seriously? The whole time, I was just some experiment?"

"Yes, now you're getting it!" And his face actually filled with relief.

Bastard.

He put an arm on my shoulder and leaned his face closer to mine, of which I had a really strong urge to roundhouse kick right now.

His face, I mean. Not his shoulder.

"Look," he started, "it's not you, it's me..."

I rolled my eyes at the agonizingly cliché phrase that had been passed down generations for every testosterone filled living thing.

The number of guys who have said that before breaking up with me is really a fucking shame.

"Well, actually that's a lie. It's not me, it's really you."

Well, that was different.

"You're just...way too clingy! I mean, have you ever heard of personal space, woman? And you never chill out and do anything fun, like go to teenage parties! And what's with your whole 'modest and conservative' persona? In the six months we've been dating Jamie, I have never, ever seen you dress inappropriately; you're sixteen years old for god's sake, make yourself interesting! I swear, if it wasn't for your amazing body and gorgeous face, I would have never even looked your way!"

I gasped silently at the outburst.

"I dress inappropriately!...sometimes." I justified.

He just scoffed. "When I say inappropriate, I mean slutty."

Oh, well then I definitely don't do that.

Unlike most of the girls in my school, I actually have self-respect for my body. Cleavage is a definite no-no, as far as I'm concerned.

After I was silent for a few minutes, he shook me lightly. His hand was still situated on my shoulder, his face leaning even closer to mine, and my urge to roundhouse kick him was achingly burning.

"Maybe if you work on...all of this," he started, gesturing to me from head-to-toe, "you might get further with guys like me. Because, let's face it, guys like me are hard to come across, and when you do, we're really hard to impress." He smirked.

Okay, scratch that; let's make this a little more exciting and add an adjective to the equation.

Cocky bastard.

I really wondered what I ever saw in this retard; but, looking at his heartwarming eyes, naturally tan skin, light brown hair and jaw-dropping smile, I realized that his existence in my life was due only to his amazing looks, and really good lip skills, if you know what I mean.

But, that's all there was to it. No 'striking personality', no 'vivacious sense of humor', just an immature little freak stuck in an Adonis' body.

"And maybe, if you're lucky, I could consider the whole friends-with-benefits thing." He winked.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

Noticing his hand still on my shoulder and his face closer than ever before to my face, I became extremely pissed.

"So, no hard feelings?" He asked, giving his award-winning, famous, heartbreaking breakup smile.

"Fuck you." I hissed, before round-kicking him in the face.

Well, my patience had finally ran thin, people

He swore as he held the right side of his face.

"You bitch!" He said, the side of his face that I had kicked was starting to swell extremely fast.

Then, as if he had a sudden lightbulb moment, he smirked at me, stood up a little taller and said, "sorry I had to end our relationship this way, but I'm even more sorry that you're so obsessed with me that you had to leave an imprint on my fucking face! See you around, JC."

"Don't ever call me that again." I snarled.

Of course he, of all people, would know how much that name would piss me off, especially now that we've broken up.

I flipped him my middle finger and turned around to head out of the parking lot and into Tribeca Prep High School, just as the five minute bell rang.

Well, boyfriend-number-nine, see you in hell.