bro•ken
/'brōken/
1. having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.
2. (of a person) having given up all hope; despairing
that's what I was. a broken girl. and who wants a broken girl?
I remember looking at him from over my book I was been so invested in at the time. He was sitting at a table across from me, helping another girl with her homework. I tried not to focus on her, or her blonde hair, or her pretty eyes...or how he probably thought the same thing.
I bit my lip and forced my glance away from Patrick, but knew I wouldn't be able to focus on my book any more. My thoughts were now back on him. The boy I was hopelessly in love with.
But some part of me took over, it possessed me, and I stood up and walked over to him. Every step I took, I wondered if I could just stop and go back, if it was too late to stop. Yet it wasn't, and before I could take another breath I was in front of him.
Why am I doing this? I thought.
"Hey...Patrick?" I said, my throat dry.
He turned to the girl he was with, motioning for her to hold on for one second.
"Mara, right?" He asked kindly.
"Yeah." I replied. I stood there awkwardly for a moment.
"What's up?" He said.
Oh no. I didn't realize I would get this far.
"Um..." I looked around, needing a topic. "You're good at math, right? I need a tutor." Good enough, I thought.
"I'm...I dunno, I guess I'm okay," he laughed softly.
"Uh, Patty, can we keep going?" The blonde asked flirtatiously, twirling a section of hair around her finger.
"Yeah, hold on one sec, Layla." He stood up and faced me, pulling me into an aisle a few paces away from their table. "I need to...tell you something."
Clichés...heart pounding...heavy breathing...dry throat...am I in love?
"I can't tutor you." Patrick said solemnly. I felt my heart break in my chest.
"Why...why not?" I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.
Patrick smiled slightly, looking down, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"'Cause, uh, Mara, I kinda have a thing for you...I just don't think I could tutor you with that between us. So just know it has nothing to do with you, you're not at fault."
Breath hitching in my throat, I stared at him. Me? No way. This was a joke, I'm sure of it. Something Layla put him up to. Ugh, Layla. I was sure that if I looked back to her I would certainly see her laughing.
"S-sorry," I stammered, stiffly turning and starting to walk away.
"Mara." He said, and grabbed my wrist. I turned around and blinked back the tears that stung my eyes. After a single second of hesitation, he looked to my lips and leaned forward. The pain burst inside of me as his lips collided on mine, certain that I didn't know him at all and this was his and Layla's way of proving to me that I need to stay away, stop trying to make any romantic advances in the future.
I tried so desperately hard to not kiss him back, but this was better than all the fantasies I had wound up in my mind, and I found myself weightless and floating and falling into his embrace, despite the bitterness in the back of my mind. Despite the oncoming sting of betrayal.
After an eternity somehow not long enough, he pulled back. Avoiding his gaze, I looked to the nearest shelf of books, knowing that if I could see through them, I'd see Layla stifling a laugh behind her soft hands, eyes full of pity and hatred for this pathetic, broken girl.
"I had to do that." Patrick's voice cuts through my thoughts.
I still don't look at him, instead striving diligently to not let the tears fall, to not let him see me cry. I don't even try to talk, because what would I say? Any attempt would just make a further fool of me.
"Mar..."
And with that, I turn from him and run. I will not, cannot be treated like that anymore. Too much pain and too much betrayal, especially from those I love.
I can't handle it.
