Moving On

*Prologue* 

"How could you?!" I screamed at him. He flinched. How could he not? We'd been together for four years. Four years of my life I'd never get back; all because of the stupid jerk that I was looking at.  

"Baby-" 

I interrupted him with,"No! You don't get to call me baby anymore. You lost that right, for what? A little hook-up. I've loved you for four years, Anderson! How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me!" I yelled at him. Grace peeked out from behind him with a smile. I wanted to bash her pretty little blond head in. His beautiful face was filled with despair. His black hair was messy, and blue eyes so passionate. I wanted to hate him. I really did. 

"I do, Blaire. I love you so much-" 

"Then why did you cheat on me? I deserve that much!" I cut him off with a glare. Anderson winced.  

"I... don't know," he said finally. I slapped him. He looked shocked.  

"If you don't know... you don't love me. Forget my name, number, where I live, birthday, and I assume you've already forgotten our anniversary is today," I offered. He tried to hide his surprise, but I knew him too well.  

"Goodbye, Anderson James Ross," I announced and left the room.  

"Care-Blaire!" A sleepy voice called from behind me. I turned around to see Carson, my best friend since birth. His brown hair was spiky from sleeping on it, and his green eyes were heavy-lidded. I smiled at him bitterly.  

"Guess you were right, Cars. You brother really is a liar and a cheater," I told him and ran out of their house. Yeah. I was dating my best friend's older brother. I fell in love with Anderson.  

"Wait! Blaire!" Anderson yelled after me. I didn't look back to see tears gushing down his face with it's sharp features, or the look of victory on Grace's blue eyed face, or even the look of confusion on Carson's face with sharp features, like his brother. Did all the Rosses have to be beautiful? Apparently so, seeing that their dark headed Dad was the older version of them with brown eyes, while their mom was an brown haired ex-model who had one green eye and one blue. I started to drive the ten minute drive home, but no tears came. All I felt was this dark sense of betrayal. I felt it when my Mom left me and my brother. I felt it when my Dad signed the adoption papers over to my brother. I felt it when my friends started to do things behind my back. And I'm feeling it now, only a hundred times worse. My phone rang. I ignored it. It rang again. And again. Finally, I snatched it up and pressed the answer button. I know, driver safety, but I was stressed to the bone.  

"Bab-" Ugh, Anderson. Of course.  

"No, Anderson! I hate you. I freaking hate you!" I shrieked. I was filled with so much hatred.  

"Blaire, just listen to me for a sec-" Anderson pleaded.  

"No. I hate you so much. Just, how could you? I. Hate. You-" But I was cut off. By the huge semi that t-boned my car. I faded out of consciousness hearing Anderson's screams.

Two Weeks Later:::

"Ms.Hayes! Just because you broke your arm, doesn't mean you get a free pass in my class," Coach Mitchell shouted at me. I went to sit on the bleachers. Being the complete athletic person that I am, somehow I got all the way to the top bleacher. I had no clue how; after all, I'd broken my arm, it was in a plain white cast. It's not like I could actually do something. Note the sarcasm. But in Coach's eyes, I couldn't. I was wearing black skinny jeans, a yellow tank top, and yellow Converse. Black and yellow, right? Today, in P.E., the other kids had to play dodgeball, which I loved, while I got to stay up in the stands and read. I actually loved to read; I read 24/7 and I read really fast.