Goals

SIX ~ It's Broken Heart

At home, I watched videos on YouTube. The funny cat videos are my personal favorites. Like most girls depressed about boys.

"Summer, can I talk to you?" Flora poked her head into my bedroom, looking at me curiously. I spent all night watching YouTube videos in my panda onesie, dark circles under my eyes.

"What do you want, Flora?" I groaned, my voice sore from all the cookies I ate that night. I felt the equivalent to a person experiencing a hangover. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't bring my brain to switch off for a while.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. Now if you'd please just get out," I replied.

For the first time ever, Flora did just that. And I was happy, yet surprised. I was glad I could go back to wallowing in self-pity with more junk food, namely Malcolms Ice-Cream, double fudge supreme. Yay.

But when I went downstairs, I was met with the surprise of my life. That cute boy who tormented me everyday was sitting in my armchair, in my living room, with my little stepsister and mom, talking.

He looked up at me, and smiled. "Hi, Summer."

Before I could turn around and run for my life, mom turned and said, "Summer, sit down." I loved my mother, but seriously, she's so mean sometimes.

"Yeah, Summer," Fiona said. "Sit down. Mummy and I are going to make some lemonade for you and Jooheon." She dragged mom to the kitchen and left Jooheon and I alone in the living room.

"What an excellent wingman," I muttered, plopping down on the sofa. I didn't care that I was in my most stupid clothes. I didn't care I was in front of my crush of three years, in my living room. I didn't care that he could make fun of me, and everyone would believe him with no proof whatsoever. I just didn't care. I had enough of this guy. I didn't want to like him anymore.

He had a sleeveless light denim jacket on over a black shirt, and black skinny jeans on. He had a black pair of high tops which I was in love with, and a cap perched on the side of his armchair next to him. He looked like a male model ready for a photoshoot.

"How are you, Summer," he asked, looking right at my eyes.

"Mmm."

"Nice clothes," he commented teasingly. I didn't have the heart to tease back, or even blush. I was sick of him and his irresistible charm.

"Mmm," I replied, picking at my cuticles.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just a little embarrassed, and I didn't want you to ask me about it anymore, you know? I wasn't thinking. Like, at all," he said. "You'll forgive me, won't you?"

I picked harder at my cuticles. They hurt, but just like everything else happening, I didn't care. At all.

"Summer?"

I ripped a chunk of cuticle off my thumb.

"Summer!" he said, pulling a tissue out of the box so desperately that it almost toppled over and leaning toward me, wrapping my thumb in the tissue to mop the blood. My heart beat was fast as his skin met mine, but I pulled away. He looked at me sadly for a while. "Are you okay, Summer? Do you need a bandaid or something? I-I'm really sorry."

"About what?" I snapped. I didn't care if he got mad and wanted to beat me to death after this. I just wanted him to know the truth of everything. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. "Yesterday's tiny occurrence, or how you treated me for the past four years?"

He kept quiet. "When I ask a non-rhetorical question, I expect one to answer it," I said, repeating his words from a few days ago. He stared down at his shoes on the carpet. "I don't care about what happened yesterday. I really don't. I'm just tired of how it went down."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"How you dealt with it. How you treat me. I'm tired, Jooheon. I'm so, so tired of it."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Yeah, because an apology will solve everything. On a normal day, I might have forgiven you, no questions asked. But now..." I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Jooheon, baby?" Tina said in a coo. She stepped down from the stairs, in a tight tube she called a dress. It was covered with sequins, and almost blinded me. "Are you ready to go?"

I was suddenly aware what was happening. Jooheon didn't care about how I felt of him. He was here for Tina. Perfect, pretty and slutty Tina Gordon. I was skinny, ugly and conserved Summer Hall. Nothing at all that could point to a guy like Jooheon.

Of course he wasn't here for me. What idiot would come over to our house to speak to me? It was always boys from school trying to get information about Tina. She treated them like dirt, but now she was going to live a happy life with Jooheon.

Maybe it was good that she was around Jooheon. Jooheon wasn't good for me. He and I were polar opposites, definitely not meant for each other. Not like him and Tina. Tina was popular, and so was Jooheon. Tina was pretty, and Jooheon was handsome. Tina was egoistic, and so was Jooheon. I was unattractive, quiet, boring, plain, and a loser. To think I obliviously let my hopes soar up and thought Jooheon could have liked me.

He was forced to teach me how to dance for money. I was just his dance student and favorite kid to pick on. Nothing more could possibly happen between us. But I was so hopelessly in love with him, I almost couldn't let this go.

I suddenly thought that this was all Jooheon's fault. His fault for being so attractive, his fault for doing this to my heart and hurting me so much even before today. I wanted so much, but I couldn't have half of what I wanted. I needed Jooheon, or I would die. It sounded so helpless of me, but I couldn't seem to help myself. He was so tempting.

He made me do so much I regret now. He made me feel like I didn't have the right to fight back with him. I realized that it was indeed my fault for letting him feel obliged to pick on me. But it could have been too late for me.

I pretended like I knew he was here for her.

"Have a good night, you two," I said, getting up. I might have sounded too cheerful, smiling like The Joker just defeated Batman, but as if I could do anything else to stop the surfacing tears. I walked briskly up the stairs past Tina, not looking back at Jooheon.

My room had never been so inviting with my unmade bed, my dirty laundry scattered all over the floor. I stuffed my face into my pillow, hoping it would suffocate me while I flooded it with my never ending tears.