How He Broke My Heart

Chapter 25

At Jonas' house, we clean up and Brandon gives me clothes to sleep in. When I leave the bathroom dressed, I enter his room to find it empty. Hearing noises downstairs, I assume he's just grabbing something, so I sit down on the bed to wait for him. Utterly lost in joy, I fall back and smile and blush and every second that passes, my heart beats faster. Brandon's going to walk through that door and he's going to come hold me.

When a figure appears, I perk up, but instead of Brandon, Jonas is standing in the doorway. Yanked back to reality, I scramble up, but before I can speak he asks, "What are you doing?"

Brandon appears right behind him, looking somewhat defeated. "Jonas—"

"No. No more Jonas. You two are a mess." He looks right at me. "Really, Emma? Really?"

"Please, everything is good right now. Don't ruin it," I say.

"I'm sure I won't have to."

Hurt, I turn away and sit down on the bed once more. Brandon tries to talk to him, but Jonas leaves down the hall before a full sentence is spoken. "I'm sure he's just upset that you left him at the bonfire," Brandon says, closing the door gently.

"I don't get it. I thought he would be happy to see us together."

"I'm sure he'll be fine in the morning. Just let him sleep on it."

As Brandon closes the shutters and likely locks the window, a phone buzzes from one of the bedside tables. Thinking it's my mom wondering where I am, I scoot over to the collection of our things—phones, keys, and his wallet. Peering down, I quickly see that it's Brandon's phone that went off with a text from Jess. Swallowing, I can't help but notice it says: I thought we were going to get ice cream—accompanied by a little emoticon with a nervous smile and a drop of sweat on its forehead.

"It's Jess," I say, bothered.

Brandon looks to me and sighs. He grabs his phone and taps back an answer before setting his phone down. "You know she's just a friend."

Not wanting to be the jealous type any longer, I mutter, "I know," and lay down on top of the covers.

"Emma," he breathes out, sitting on the bed.

"I know she's a friend. We've been over this. It's fine. I don't mind it."

Brandon stays quiet, probably expecting me to speak again, say something like: But maybe she shouldn't text so late. Or: Why were you two getting ice cream, though? But I don't, I simply get comfortable and glance up at him as he sits against the dark wood headboard.

"I don't want you to think that I would be intimate with you and then leave to hang out with whoever," he says.

Letting out a small laugh, I sit up a bit. "Brandon, when I was sixteen I let Milo deflower me after he spent all night trying to get me drunk and flirting with other girls at a party. I-I don't think you leaving to hang out with friends is going to hurt me."

"See, Emma, it's those kinds of stories that make me worry."

I know what kind of role I'm trying to play—the strong girl who's been screwed with so many times that nothing fazes her. Peering down to my hands, I shake my head. "I can't believe I ever compared you to them—thought that you were going to end up hurting me like them. I only let him have it because the other girls at the party were talking about sex. I thought that if I didn't put out, he would leave. I pretty much handed it to him, and after, he left right away. I just laid in bed, sad, for hours."

"Emma—"

"I get it. Jess is pretty, normal, probably easy to get along with. She really likes you as well." I stop. "God, I'm doing it, aren't I? Being jealous."