Brie Sheridan has had her heart broken way too many times. Rhett Price is usually the culprit, but, this time, he might be the solution.
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Brooke 'Brie' Sheridan wouldn't necessa...
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BRIE
I'm starting to think I might have made a mistake by jumping in headfirst.
I know that nothing good ever comes from trusting boys, especially if those boys just so happen to be Rhett Price.
In theory, I know that, which is why silly little me was expecting my brain to have the decency to not ignore the warning signs blaring in my head, yet this is where I've ended up. He's all tinted in shades of light-pink, in spite of my gut feeling insisting my perception of him is distorted by how I want him to be and how I want to see him, and there's not a trace of red.
This is wrong, and I'm headed off towards dangerous territory. I should be trusting my instincts the way I've chosen to trust him, simply because the alternative option was far too painful to consider, but the optimistic part of me pats me on the back for deciding to move forward. I'm moving forward with my life even after Cole coldly broke my heart and my spirit, even after I almost lost everything I've worked so hard to accomplish, and I moved forward even after Rhett shattered my entire existence years ago.
It's not this that will ruin me for good. I want to believe it with every fiber of strength remaining in me, which means I have to come up with a way to make my pride and self-respect overpower my fear of betrayal. It's only now that I've properly started to process the breakup and everything it entails, but there's been plenty of crying involved, more than I initially expected. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as the aftermath of the Dark Days—nothing beats your first big heartbreak—but it's both embarrassing and surprising how many tears and sobs have come out of my body since then.
Even once we're well into September and I should have my shit together (newsflash: I don't; far from it, if we're being honest), I'm grieving the loss of a relationship with someone who, in retrospect, probably never cared that much about me to begin with. The memories and the illusions remain, though, carved into the walls of my brain like they've been branded by burning iron a la Angels & Demons. It's that version of Cole that hurts to have lost—both physically and figuratively.
When I'm not busy finding ways to somehow blame Rhett for everything that has gone wrong in my life since senior year started, I'm a less smart iteration of Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. I binge watch romantic comedies in my free time while I still can, curled up in bed with a large tub of ice cream for a companion, and call the men on my laptop screen liars. It's what all of them are—big evil liars I can't help but love.
At least the men I'm watching on a screen are fictional and can't hurt or lie to me, but they also can't give me a love story that changes my life, sweeps me off my feet, and turns my world upside down. I have to live vicariously through the female protagonists, longing for the day all those storylines will happen to me, even the roughest parts; after all, not everything in life is smooth sailing. Love hurts sometimes, but it's always worth it in the end.
