"He's not taking any of my calls," I wail into my phone the next day.
"You need to give him time," Winnie replies. "Boys have egos like delicate flowers. They bruise easily."
I sigh for what seems like the fiftieth time. "I should just become a spinster and adopt a whole bunch of cats."
"While you're at it, make sure they're those hairless cats. A roomful of weird naked cats will scare off unwanted visitors." The smile in Winnie's voice makes me smile too.
"Thanks for the tip." I wander to the window facing the parking lot and lean my forehead against the glass. "What do I do now?"
"I don't know. Your dad's a drummer, what does he do when he's too depressed to make noise?"
"He watches funny cat videos."
"Well, there you go. Your journey into crazy cat spinsterhood can start there."
I laugh despite myself. "Thanks, Winnie."
Shortly after ending the call, the phone rings in my hand. My heart flutters with hope as I peer at the display, then sinks.
It's Dustin.
My fingers hover over the green button. I have no idea why he might be calling me, but I'm done ignoring calls. It's cowardly and rude, and I need to stop being that person. Plus it sucks being on the other end. I know that now.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Hey babe. Shoot, I can't call you that anymore, can I?"
"Not unless you want to be delusional," I affirm.
A half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah."
We fall into silence, which is unusual for Dustin. He's never had a lack of things to say.
"What did you want to talk about?" I probe.
"The last time we spoke. You know, that day..."
"When I broke up with you."
I can almost hear him wince.
"Yeah, that. I was kind of in shock, you know? Like, I honestly thought we were good together."
"You don't even like my drumming."
"So? It's not like you were asking me to join a marching band. Were you?"
"A marching band?" I blink at my phone, wondering how I ever thought this was the guy for me. "No. It's not that kind of drumming. It's— You know what? Never mind. My point is, we like different things. I just went along with whatever you preferred because I wanted you to like me."
"Oh."
"And I realize now that was wrong. I wasn't being myself. The version of Jordi you knew wasn't the real me."
"I see."
I give him time to process my words, still not sure why he called.
"Well, you did a damn good job," he says when he finally recovers. "The guys were jealous of me, did you know that? They pretended to give me a hard time, but none of them had a devoted girlfriend like you." He sighs. "Too bad it wasn't real."
"I'm sorry, Dustin."
"Why'd you do it?"
My mouth opens, wanting to answer, but unsure what the answer truly is.
"I don't know," I eventually say. "I think..." I grimace at the incoming thought. "I think I didn't like who I was. And when I tried being someone else, you liked it. So I thought that was better."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense." He pauses. "Come to think of it, I act kind of different around the guys, don't I?"
"You turn into Mr. Bro-hard. It's kind of unattractive."
"Unattractive? Me? Impossible," he teases.
I'm thankful for the lightened mood and decide to tease back. "While we're on the subject of unattractive, I've never liked your soul patch either."
"What? Come on, it's cool!"
"It really isn't."
He laughs. He always was very good at not taking things personally.
The laugh turns into a heavy sigh. "I guess I have to find a girl who likes it, then. And football."
"You will."
"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're cool."
I smile into the phone. "Cooler than your soul patch?"
He laughs again. "Yeah. Way cooler."
Aww it's nice when two people can part on good terms. Dustin the jock might have actually earned himself a vote!
YOU ARE READING
Drumbeats into My Heart
Teen FictionA sheltered honor student must overcome his anxiety and esteem issues to win the heart of a charming street performer who just may be the key to unlocking his self-confidence. ***...