My Ex-Bestfriend

Prologue- MUST START HERE

I bolt through the door just as another guttural sob I've been holding bursts from my chest like a tidal wave. My high heels fly across the floor landing with a thud as I hurl them off of me. My vision is blurring as mascara continues to trail down my cheeks.

The sting of mascara is barely noticeable over the realization that he didn't even see that I took the time to put on freaking mascara today. How could he, when he barely looked at me? What's wrong with how I look? I heard no complaints all week which adds to my shock and fury.

Dad jumps up from his recliner, eyes wide. "What's broken?" he shouts, scanning me from head to toe like he's expecting obvious signs of deformity.

That says it all. I'm so far from feminine that my dad thinks I must be injured, seriously injured, to come in so dramatic. I can't blame him. The last time I cried like this, my ankle was twisted at a grotesque angle requiring surgery.

But tonight? I'd give anything for it to be just a broken bone. At least that can be mended. Tonight, I am shattered all the way through. There's nothing to realign. Just an open, raw wound in my chest.

Dad pulls me into his arms as another cry escapes me, louder than the last. My tears soak into his flannel shirt. In moments like this, I wish my mom was still here. She would get it. Maybe if she were here, tonight wouldn't have ended like this. Maybe her advice could've saved me from this heartbreak.

I glance up. My dad's face is etched with worry. We don't hug often, so this is foreign for both of us. My sides burn from the relentless chafing of this ridiculous prom gown that I want to rip off and set on fire. I won't though. It's too sentimental.

I push away from him just as fast as I ran into him heading straight for the stairs with a new purpose. A fire coursing through my veins. It's time to end this chapter and start a new book. There is nothing Michael James could say that can extinguish the fire inside me right now.

I abandon my dad as he stands frozen in the living room as I take the stairs two at a time. My tears blur my bedroom but I know exactly where my target is. The rope ladder. It's been hanging outside my window for a decade. Not just a shortcut into my room, but somehow a passage into my heart. A lifeline, really. Carrying the weight of my best friend, my next-door neighbor, my unrequited love.

I spin around shocked to see that dad had followed me up. "I need your work scissors," I say, voice sharp and demanding.

My dad, a retired vet, doesn't hesitate when he hears a command. This he can handle. He can't mend the pieces of my shattered heart, but he can follow orders.

Within seconds, I hear his boots stomping back up the stairs. He hands me the scissors. I stare at them for a moment before doing the one thing I never imagined I'd have the courage to do.

I cut the rope.

The ladder falls with an anti climatic clunk as it falls in the grass outside my window. A final goodbye. I slam the window shut as I twist the latches into a locked position. It requires more force due to the years of never being utilized. My tears fall harder now, except I don't stop.

I turn to my dad with one ultimate order. "I never want to see Michael James again. Ever."

Words I never thought I'd say.

He blinks, stunned, trying to piece things together. Then he nods. Not the casual kind. The kind you give when you absorb unspoken words with perfect understanding. He disappears downstairs like a soldier taking post. Guarding the front door. Guarding me.

I unzip my lilac dress and let it drop to the floor in a puddle of fluff. I tear off the god-awful strapless bra I had to suffer through all night. I barely grown accustomed to a wired bra preferring my sports bras always.The mandatory strapless one felt like sadistic torture.

I slip into my armor, my basketball shorts with an oversized t-shirt. Safety. Familiarity.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Red, drippy nose. Black streaks on my cheeks. I really thought this would never be me. I never thought I would find myself the victim of F- boy but here I am. I am sure that every girl who stood here before me thought maybe, just maybe, we were on the verge of something epic. The kind of love you see in movies.

But it wasn't a movie. It was a misstep. A cruel twist. A heartbreak I didn't see coming.

How did I or maybe how did we let it get this far?