Our Hearts Begin to Crumble.

I hated knowing that he was hurting.

It made me ache in that familiar way, too. I didn’t think he should be allowed to hurt. He was, after all, the one that caused all the damage. I had been willing to fix things, had I not? Then, of course, he had to go jump in bed with the first girl he could call. I don’t even think it’s because he had real feelings for Bonnie - I just think it was because her name was close to the front of the alphabet.

I was bitter.

I had too much time on the drive to Tempe. I was thinking, over analyzing. I couldn’t stop the thoughts from intruding my brain. I tried almost anything to distract myself - word search puzzles, the license plate game, my iPod. Nothing was working. I couldn’t keep my mind off of him.

The conversation had been awkward. There were too many awkward silences and a lot of stuttering. We were on the phone for fifteen minutes but neither of us had really said anything. We exchanged pleasantries and lied about our lives. He told me how sorry he was, I told him that I couldn’t take his apologies. I knew he was hurting - his voice cracked every time he said my name and there was no enthusiasm in his words. He was blank. He was apathetic.

I was nostalgic.

I wanted…I don’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted. My mind was like a pie chart - a large percentage wanted to ignore Kennedy Brock for the rest of my life. A small percentage wanted to forgive him and go back to the way things were. The rest of me was still undecided. Indifferent. The rest of me couldn’t bare to spent too much time thinking about what I wanted. If I thought about it too much, the hurt would start.

I had gotten so good at masking the pain. I was a pro at ignoring the throbbing sensation in my chest and the aching in my stomach. I could push all of those unpleasant feelings deep inside of me, way deep inside of me, until I could barely even notice that they were there.

I was in denial.

I wanted to love him. I knew that. My heart, my mind, my entire body knew that. I wouldn’t let myself believe it. I would lie. To myself and everyone that asked. I just couldn’t fathom a world where I openly admitted my weakness.

It was just too hard. Love shouldn’t be this hard. Even a year later, I was still feeling those emotions for him. I shouldn’t be. I should be over him by now. After all, it was only a stupid summer fling. A silly summer romance that changed me forever. Even in denial, I knew exactly what it did to me. It changed my thought process, my character. I would never be the same person.

I was in love.

---

“Let’s talk,” Mia suggested as she turned around in the passenger’s seat to face me.

Mia looked exactly the same as she did a year ago. She still had obnoxiously red hair (as did I) that she kept just a little below her shoulders. It was pin-straight. Her skin was still pale, despite the glowing Arizona sun, and she was still small. Personality wise, she was still outgoing, freakishly loud, and an extrovert.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Unlike Mia, I had changed. Though my hair was still an almost unnatural shade of red, it was long, almost reaching past my bust. It was either wavy or in curls every day. My skin was still pale, but I had more freckles gracing my cheeks and nose. I was the same height, but I think the stress of my senior year made me loose weight. I was thinner. Personality wise, I had matured. I was no longer as naïve, and I had a stronger sense of self-guidance. I knew who I was now, not just who I wanted to be.

“How was your senior year?” Mia asked, twisting her lips to the side of her face in a curious expression.

I shrugged. “Stressful. The yearbook almost killed me and I almost missed the college application deadline. You?”

Mia beamed at me. “Senior year was amazing. Sometimes it kinda sucked, because John graduated already and everything, but I met a lot of amazing people. I think you’ll love them all.”

I nodded at her, even though I didn’t really care. Something had changed between the beginning of the car ride and now. At first, I was excited, happy to be going back to Arizona. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I was feeling kind of moody and agitated.

“Did you hook up with anyone?” Mia asked bluntly, and there was a part of me that was almost surprised that she was asking such a personal question.

Then again, this was Mia, and there were no boundaries when it came to her. No such question was a personal question.

I blinked at her, twice, before letting out a heaving sign and running my hand down my face.

Did she think that I hooked up with anyone? Did I seem like the type of girl to use sex as a way to cure all pain?

I wasn’t that type of person. At least, not now. I had changed. I had grown into someone else. Someone less fun, probably, but I was more mature and not as easy to get hurt. I had put up barriers.

“No.” I said shortly. “I didn’t hook up with anyone.”

I was still too broken up over a certain boy. I didn’t think I could hook up with anyone anytime soon. I would feel guilty.

Mia didn’t look pleased. “You should have.” She said. “It might have made you feel better.”

“How?” I asked. “How would mindless sex make me feel better? Wouldn’t it make me feel worse?”

Mia shrugged. “It depends on how you look at it. No strings attached can be fun - you’re just living for the feeling. There’s no attachment.”

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open. Was she really saying that?

“You know you’re making yourself sound like a whore, right?” I asked her, and I could hear John’s laugh all the way in the back seat.

Mia rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying that I’m the one hooking up. I don’t need to - I’ve got John. You, however, could probably use a little lovin’.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Mia, can we stop, for today, at least?” I asked her hopefully. “I’m not really feeling up to it.”

She gave me a pointed look but turned back around in her seat with a huff. I heard her mutter something underneath her breath about party poopers, but I ignored her.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love talking to Mia - she was amusing, if nothing else. It’s just that I didn’t feel like getting interrogated for my anti-social ways. I know that my actions were ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

We spent the next four hours in silence. I had my iPod in, and was listening to Meg & Dia on repeat. I was feeling sad. I was feeling anxious.

I swear, my heart jumped in my throat the second John said those words: “We’re here.”

Arizona, here I come.