The Anatomy of a Broken Heart //Completed//

40. Caleb

Santana had a huge cassette collection. There were rows and rows on her bookshelf of bands I'd never even heard of. "Carlos Santana," I read aloud. There were at least fifteen of his cassettes on there.

"My namesake," she answered from inside her bathroom where she was doing her makeup. It was Saturday evening, and since I forgot to give her the dress the day we bought it, I had to come and bring it to her. It was by a miracle that I managed to slip away from my mother who was too busy yelling at her assistant about the flower arrangements to notice.

"Dad loves him. He actually met my mom at one of his concerts. If that isn't the most cliché meet cute, then I don't know what is."

"Well there's always the 'pretended to date and fall in love' trope," I said, looking up from the shelf.

"You wish," she stepped out into her room, hands on her hips. The green dress I hadn't seen her try on fit her nicely. It dragged to the floor in a full skirt, and the sleeves went down her arms just below her elbows. It had pretty beading on the bodice which shimmered as she moved.

"What do you think?"

"You look great," I said trying not to sound too surprised. Her hair was sleek and spilled down her back in a sheet of dark brown, tucked behind her ears.

"Good. Shoes." She moved to get the heels resting by the door, but something caught my eye.

"Whoa, your eyes!" I took a step towards her to get a better look and she backed away shielding her face.

"Let me see," I demanded. The fading light from outside had shined right into her eyes which were no longer just brown.

She rolled her strange eyes but faced me. One eye was a rich chocolate while the other a nebula of green and blue and brown.

"It's heterochromia," she informed, not looking at me directly. "I wear contacts because it freaks J...people out. Like you." She waved her hand vaguely towards me.

"You're not one to care what people think."

"No. Well, just one person in particular."

Ah. "Jasper."

"Yeah. I wear them all the time since I never know when he's going to show up. I hate them though."

"Then stop wearing them." I shrugged. "I think your eyes are cool."

"It's a deformity."

Well, she wasn't wrong. "I'm going to choose to ignore you because that's detrimental to my argument. They're awesome."

"Thanks," she said slowly. They really were. It was strange but not in the way she thought. Instead of being repulsed, I felt like I could stare at them all day.

"Caleb?" She asked wearily

Was I drooling?

"We should go."

"Just don't put them on tonight, okay?"

"I just ran out, anyway." She was still looking at me like I was crazy.

We settled into my cold car and made for the party, then my phone lit up in the cup holder.

"Can you read the text to me?" I asked her. I was expecting a text from Ansel, who was supposed to be on the lookout for Farrah at the party.

"'Hey, I had a dream about you last night.' Ooo, saucy," Santana laughed as she read a text clearly not from my cousin. "Oh, there's a picture attached. Whoa. That's graphic. Are you also acting as her gynecologist, by any chance?" She showed me the phone.