Short Stories and Stuff

Short Story #4

Hello people! This is another one of @PiperAngelo beautiful works and this is based on a Cardigan by Taylor Swift as @PiperAngleo is the biggest swiftie I know . Anyways, enjoy!!! P.S the italic font is the lyrics of Taylor Swift songs. 

When you are young they assume you know nothing.

Tousled blond hair? Check. Indigo eyes? Check. Levi's denim jeans? Check. Only a coward would show up at his girlfriend's doorstep after five months, only a coward would cheat on her in the first place. But James Dawson didn't look like a coward, and the fear that I would become that submissive sophomore girl forgiving the seventeen-year-old senior stupid enough to sleep with someone else gradually resurfaced.

I'd dreamed of the moment he would come begging for forgiveness at my feet, back when Inez had informed me of that college girl he'd met in the summer. Back when I was crying on my bathroom floor in the middle of the night because nobody had warned me how excruciating breakups were.

Breakups happen everyday, you don't have to lose it.

James was the male equivalent of a slut, and no waves of emotion threatened to wreck me as I stared firmly into his eyes—the facial feature which used to make me melt. I realised I wanted nothing more to do with my first love, and I had it in me to move on. He was the only one who'd gotten enough of me to break my heart, and now he had to bear the consequences.

"She was just a summer thing," he said, a hysterical smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The lips that used to whisper my name at night, the lips that used to fit into mine's so seamlessly. "Look, I'm only seventeen, and I don't know anything about romance. But I do know I love you, and I miss you, and I want you back."

When someone falls out of love with you, you can't change their mind. They just don't love you anymore.

James didn't miss me—he missed the connection we once shared, the empathy link which allowed us to read each other's minds. He loved the idea of unconditional love, and he loved the idea of chasing two girls and keeping the one he preferred even more. What he hadn't anticipated was that the girl he wanted would have no intention of taking him back.

I realised you love yourself more than you could ever love me.

"I used to think love was an obsession, and that obsessing over you was normal," I said slowly, but firmly enough so he wouldn't sense the hesitation in my voice. "But do we obsess over clean water when we have an endless supply of it, even when it's the one thing keeping us alive? We don't obsess over things we have no fear of losing, we don't obsess over things we have enough of. You don't love me enough. And I can't obsess over you anymore."

James' eyes hardened into dark sapphires and his brow became furrowed, just as I'd expected. Anger was a by-product of pettiness and immaturity, and those two characteristics were written in the blood of all men. He couldn't do anything to intimidate me anymore—he knew nothing about the new me, which he'd helped build by tearing apart the old one.

"You're making a big mistake. I know how broken you are, and there won't be other men willing to hold your scars in their hands." James' face was flushed, and I knew this was his version of a "last hurrah", fuelled by a twisted longing to inflict as much damage on me before walking away. "I am one of the few people who have come close to understanding you, and I am the only person who is capable of loving you."

Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right.

My stomach twisted, but I was determined not to let his careless words change my mind—because James had always known how to attack my Achilles heel. He wanted me to break down and cry, because that was what I'd done in all our previous fights. But this wasn't a fight, it was a goodbye. And I only cried for the people I cared about—James and I were strangers.

"I love you."

"No."

"One last time, because I don't think we should end like this."

I hated myself for not slamming the door shut in his face, because that's what a strong girl would've done. But maybe granting your ex the gift of a final moment of intimacy, for old time's sake, was even braver.

My lips were chapped while his were soft from making out with the college girl all summer. His hands didn't reach down to caress my hips like they usually would, as if he didn't want to waste our last moment together sexualising me. And my body, the one thing I'd always been the most conscious about during our make-outs, seemed to evaporate along with the tears forming in James' eyes.

I didn't cower, and I found myself surrendering to James' touch instead—the fear of him ruining me vanquished by the familiarity of it all. Nothing and everything was different with the way he held me, but this was the only kiss between us I would be able to recount 10 years into the future. Because the mutual understanding that we'd never own each other like this again made this last embrace beautiful and sacred.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss.

We'd finished what we set out to do, hadn't we? Write a decent last page to our tragic love story. Before my brain could comprehend that this was the end, James had silently made his way to the other side of the street. He turned around so that our eyes would meet—because from those eyes were a sense of home, and the final set of words that we exchanged.

I love you.

I know.

Cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed, look at how my tears ricochet.

I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES THIS IS PROVING MY FRIENDS HAVE MORE TALENT THAN ME SIBUYBHWIYFBWHGFUVWGVWFG tho i did notice the ' i love you; i know' part ;)