All I Ever Needed

Nadine

In my opinion this chapter sucks, and I could've done it better, but you guys have waited long enough, so without further ado, I give you chapter eight.

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Nadine

Chapter Eight

I used to think women deserved it when they got their hearts broken by men, that they should’ve known better, that they brought this upon themselves. When I would spot girls at my school crying their eyes out in the bathroom stalls, or behind the bleachers in the gym, I would shake my head disappointedly and mentally think that if they’d followed my philosophy in life, that all men were heartless bastards who didn’t deserve a kind, loving woman in their pointless lives, that they could’ve prevented this.

            Whenever I would overhear the girls at my school gushing about how hot Kyle Turner – football prodigy, school golden boy and resident heartbreaker – was, I’d roll my eyes at how stupid they were because everyone knew how any relationship with him ended; tears and a gaping hole in your chest.

Every time I watched a movie where the heroine would complain about how she didn’t want to fall for him, but couldn’t fight off the attraction, I would think it was the biggest load of bull shit ever. That when a character ‘accidentally’ fell in love with the other, I would scoff and stop watching the movie. Sometimes, when I would overhear my mother crying herself to sleep over my father, I would hate her for it; he didn’t deserve her tears.

But I used to be stupid. It turns out all the crap in movies about how you can’t fight off your feelings for another person are true. That you can accidentally fall in love with someone. And that it sucks majorly when you can’t be with that person who makes you the best version of you. Of course, I already know that, and while I’m no stranger to heartbreak, I can’t say that it’s something you get used to. 

It turns out that love is actually a beautiful thing, that it does makes you a happier person, that it’s not a load of crap fed to us by the movie industry to turn all women into spineless damsels, but at the same time it can hurt like a bitch.

And because of a certain someone; also known as my dictator, parole officer, the person making my life miserable, I’m locked in my room crying my eyes out. It’s been a few days since that incident with Julian and I’ve done everything in my power to not see him on campus – or stalk –, to not open his Facebook and Twitter accounts and stalk him like a mindless loser, because just remembering him, the way he looked so heartbroken that day is enough to make me burst out into tears. 

But on another note, tonight is the night of my father’s art show and he’d arrived yesterday making my life considerably brighter. And this time, unlike the first time, I actually bought a suitable outfit for the occasion. I’d bought a cute little black dress that ended just before my knees and a pair of black ballerinas.

“We’re leaving in half an hour!”

The sound of Aunt Rachel’s voice behind my door snaps me out of my mopey mood. Sniffing, I wipe my eyes with my hands, and blow my nose. I need to start getting ready, the last thing I need is to go to this thing looking like Frankenstein’s Bride. With my hair acting like a curtain around my face, I slowly unlock the door and head to the bathroom at the end of the hall to wash my face. Luckily, none of the Peters’ see me and I don’t have to explain why my face is red and blotchy, and as I’m about to close the door to my room when I’m done, Katie’s voice startles me.

“Need help with your makeup?” she asks innocently and not like she just made my heart leap from my chest, and holds up a brush in one hand.

“You scared me,” I say as I take a seat on the edge of the bed.