Corrupt Me

I can honestly say that my heart broke when Angel was telling me about what happened to him. His behaviour towards me makes so much more sense now. If I had known about his experience with his old boyfriend before, maybe it wouldn't have taken me so long to stop resisting his advances and let him and myself get close. I can't imagine ever going through what he did, practically being sexually assaulted by someone who he loved, only to be thrown in the trash when he was no longer useful. No wonder Angel has such a warped perspective on love. But yet, he said he loved me. He said that I changed him, made him open to the idea of love again. And if I'm being completely honest with myself, I think I might have fallen for him, too. I certainly care for him more than I have cared for another person before. Does that mean I love him too? Maybe it does. The thought is terrifying, but I decided as he was telling me his story that I wanted to try spending time with him as more than friends. It's ridiculous to try to deny to myself that I find him endearing, funny, sweet…and attractive. I know I've caught myself looking at his butt more than once. Either way, it's clear in my mind that I have a thing for him, which is the reason I need to end my relationship with Isabelle. After making out with Angel in the empty classroom nearly three weeks ago and skipping random classes every now and again to do the same, it's the right thing to do. I don't want to lead Isabelle on. She's still my friend and I care about her a lot. The only reason I hadn’t told her sooner that I wanted to break up is because I’d been grounded, but now I was free of my punishment, I took the first opportunity to invite her to my house after school. She seemed excited that I wanted to spend my first afternoon of freedom with her, but I guess after our talk, she probably won’t be too happy. Still, I know I have to do this. It’s only right.

When we both got inside my house, Isabelle decided that she had to spend half an hour talking to my mother, who was cooking dinner in the kitchen. The two of them were chatting away quite happily, while I was fidgeting and acting just generally restless. Neither of them noticed, although my mother kept looking over at me now and again and smiling this huge smile. I had no idea what that was about.

Eventually, I managed to drag Isabelle away from my mother and in to my room. She sat down on my bed while I paced the floor until she spoke up.

“Mics? What’s up with you?”

She had set up the perfect opportunity to start this conversation, but at that moment, my mouth had gone dry and all of my well thought out break up speech left my brain. The only word that stuck in my head was one that started with an ‘f’ and ended with ‘uck’, which is a word that I had been saying far too many times lately. Stupid Angel and his bad influence on me.

After watching me gaping at her like a fish for a few seconds, Isabelle spoke again.

“Micah?” she asked, seemingly unsure of herself.

“I want to break up,” I blurted out, and then silently cursed myself. That was not how I wanted to say it.

Isabelle sat there silently; her eyes had immediately filled with tears at my words and threatened to spill over at any second. I had to fix this.

“Um…um, I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t want it to come out like that. I do really like you. I do. It’s just…just more as friends, you know? I think we will be much better as friends than we ever will be as a couple…” I trailed off as her tears spilled.

I sat down next to her on my bed and went to hug her but she flinched away.

“Please Izzy. I’m really sorry, I truly am. I care about you so much. You’re a great girl and a great friend and you deserve someone so much better than me…”

She hiccupped, “Oh please, don’t pull that ‘you deserve more’ rubbish. Why are you really ending it?”

“I just think we will be better as friends, that’s all. I do really care about you and I really want to be friends, I’m not just saying that. Please can we be friends?” I pleaded. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

It took her a few minutes of silence to compose herself and wipe her eyes on a tissue I gave her. She looked up at me with red eyes, and studied me for a moment, before she slowly nodded.

“Yes, okay. We can be friends,” she said, smiling a watery smile.

“Yay!” I squealed, and hugged her tightly.

She laughed quietly. “I still don’t think that’s the real reason this is over though…” she whispered into my hair. I know I stiffened slightly when she said that, but besides that movement, I tried to play off like I didn’t hear her and continued to hug her until I heard my bedroom door open. We pulled apart quickly.

Standing in my doorway was my mother (who was beaming) and…

“James? What are you doing here?!” I almost shouted, and jumped up to hug my best friend, nearly bowling him over as I did so.

He laughed and steadied himself. “Good to see you too, Mics.”

“It’s been forever! How is everything? How’s the band? Are you getting many gigs? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Does school suck without me? How’s everyone else?” I babbled, too excited to stop.

“Whoa, whoa, okay. Calm down. Everything’s good, band’s great, yes, you’d know that if you came to youth every now and again, cause your mom and I wanted it to be a surprise, of course it does, everyone else is fine. Those are the answers to your questions in order.”

Everyone in the room laughed. I had almost forgotten that Mom and Isabelle were present.

I looked between the two of them. Isabelle seemed much happier than she had been a minute ago, and was looking at James with interest. Mom was grinning, clearly stoked that her plan had worked so well. She was about to open her mouth to say something when we all heard the kitchen timer go off. She rushed out of my room, leaving Isabelle, James and I alone.

“So…” James began. “Is this the Isabelle I’ve heard so much about?”

“What?” I questioned. I’ve never mentioned Isabelle to him before. “How do you…?”

“Your mother loves to talk.”

I sighed. Of course she told him I had a girlfriend.

“Uh, yeah, this is Isabelle. My, uh… friend.”

James noticed the awkwardness straight away, and furrowed his brows.

“We just broke up,” Isabelle spoke, “He said it was cause he just wants to be friends but I think it’s something else as well.”

James looked interested then. Damn it. “Oooh, why?” he directed his question at me, but was still looking at Isabelle.

“That’s the only reason. I swear.”

“Uh-huh…” James said, clearly not believing me, just as Mom shouted “Dinner!” from the kitchen. I hightailed it out of my room and was sitting at the table before James and Izzy were even out of my room. I prayed they wouldn’t mention our odd conversation from just before, and thankfully, my prayer was answered not only at dinner, but for the rest of the evening as well.

After dinner, the three of us, as well as Georgia, watched a movie and then played a game of Monopoly. I felt like it was incredibly awkward, but maybe that was because both Isabelle and James kept shooting curious looks at me in between sneaking glances at each other, but at least they didn’t say anything, at least until they left.

Isabelle left at about 10 o’clock, giving me a hug goodbye and telling me she will see me at school on Monday. James stayed for another hour, the two of us just chatting about how our lives had been since we had last seen each other. I made sure to avoid talking about Angel at all costs. I didn’t want my perceptive best friend to figure out the real reason Izzy and I broke up. Luckily, the conversation had steered pretty clear of relationships up until James had to leave, and as he hugged me goodbye with a promise to see each other more, he whispered that he vowed to find out what was going on with me.

My breath had hitched in my throat as he said it, but instead I just smiled with the smallest amount of awkwardness possible, and bid him goodnight. Once he had got in his car (he’s nearly 10 months older than me, meaning that he already has his license) and driven off, I slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

Why does everyone I know have to be so perceptive? My father, Isabelle, James. Who else knows something’s up?

God damn it.