Break Your Little Heart// A Thomas Fanfiction

Chapter 10

The second week with Mr. Augusto in my life was just as eventful as the first. He kept his promise of driving me home every day, and he always had a new playlist of songs he played as he drove. He would actually find out ways to add time to the route home so I could stay in the car longer. And he kept doing it because I never complained. The one thing I wish I had commented on, was the lack of lip action I was receiving from the asshole, I didn’t understand his angle. I always got a simple good-bye hug from him, we hadn’t kissed since Saturday. It worried me, but relieved me at the same time.

Friday at lunch was just like any other lunch; I sat alone in the cafeteria eating my food like any other social reject in any high school movie cliché. But that wasn’t what was bugging me, no, what was bugging me was the fact that Thomas was outside these very doors, sitting on the atrium with some other girl. Every damn day it was someone new, and it always made me jealous.

I don’t know what made me so jealous though, wasn’t it I he drove home every day? Wasn’t I the girl he took out on a date Saturday night? Wasn’t it I whom he wasted all of his gas on driving me around to no-man’s land as we listened to the playlists he created for me?

It seemed as if all the girls that latched onto him were nothing but random chicks he’d met in the hallways. I was the one consistent girl in his life, so why wasn’t I ever invited to sit with him? He knew where I sat in the cafeteria, he could find me easily.

So why didn’t he?

I decided to ask him in Math.

“So, who was the new girl on your lap today in the atrium?” I asked casually.

“I don’t remember her name,” he said looking up from his math work.

“Why do you waste your time with girls like that?” I tried not to seem too desperate for answers, it wasn’t working.

“I need to train myself,” he said simply.

“Train yourself for what?” I urged him to go on.

“Why do you care?” He snapped at me.

“Pfft, I don’t,” I pretending to remove a loose thread from my pants.

“You sure seem like you do,” he mumbled.

“Are you going to answer me or not?” I asked him.

“I thought you didn’t care,” he retorted.

“I don’t,”

“I do it…” He started, “I do it so I can have connections, you know?”

“No,” I shook my head. The bell rang, signaling the end of class.

“It’s hard to explain,” he stood up.

“We have time,” I replied, packing my bag.

“You’re stubborn,”

“Aw you noticed,” I placed my hand over my heart.

“Okay,” he raised his hands. “No need to get sarcastic.”

“Then get the foot out of your mouth and just tell me why you hang out with sluts!” I whisper-yelled.

“Can you not say it so loud?” He looked around. We left the classroom together and walked to his locker first, a ritual we had developed after the numerous car rides home.

“Can you stop playing games?” I called him out.

“Scarlett,” he sighed.

“I’m waiting,” I crossed my arms. He opened up his locker.

“I do it so I know how to pick up girls okay?” He said finally.

“And why on earth would you want to do that?”

“So I could have some sort of shot with an amazing girl like you,” he replied honestly.

“So they’re practice?” I enunciated every syllable carefully.

“It sounds discourteous when you say it like that,” he said sadly.

“It is discourteous Augusto!”

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head.

“You’re right, I don’t.” I sighed. We stood there in silence for a while; even though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs:

Oh Thomas! I do understand what you mean; I know what it is like to constantly talk to people of the opposite gender just to learn more about what they want from you. I’ve used numerous guys, abused their sense of security just to learn how they work! Just to learn what they want from a girl. But I can’t tell you that, not after how hypocritical I had just acted.

“You know last Friday, when you asked me ‘tell me something about yourself that would make me hate you.’?” He closed his locker and started to put on his coat.

“Vaguely,” I replied dishonestly. I remember every detail of every interaction I’ve had with Thomas, because there were so few. I wished there were more times with Thomas, I wanted to soak up every bit of him. I wanted to know every little detail about him so if someone sat me down and told me to write his memoirs, I could regurgitate every piece of information about him. But I wasn’t going to tell him that, no, never.

“Well I told you that there was a long list of reasons why you would hate me, and now you can add that as reason number 1.”

“I don’t hate you,” I said, kicking an empty plastic water bottle. The hallways had just about cleared up by the time we started walking to my locker.

“I don’t want you to hate me Scarlett,” Thomas said sighing.

“I don’t want to hate you, Thomas,” I said, and then mimicked his sigh.

“You know you can get out of this whenever you want,” he said as I opened up my locker.

“What is this anyway?” I asked him, trying not to rely on whatever answer awaited me.

“Stick around and you just might find out,” he winked at me.

I felt my insides crumble.