Breaking Hearts Has Never Looked So Cool

The final day of the year dawned crisp and bright, with the almost blinding morning light filtering through the curtains in a more concentrated way than sun rays ever could. In the short time we’d been in the house, I’d learned to deal with sharing a bed with Frank somehow, which seemed to routinely involve rising early.

I contemplated my prospects as I fidgeted slightly; I could either leave the now oppressive bed (only Frank could make a double bed seem positively minute) and risk half freezing myself to death, or remain in place and cope with the fact that I was on the extreme edge of the bed anyway, with Frank half pushing me out. I sat up decidedly, pushing Frank as roughly as I dared more on to his side. He stirred loudly and slumped in the opposite direction instead of all over me. I performed a quick survey of the room; it was 2 days ago that I had ran into Gerard in the wee hours of the morning, and I was anxious for it not to happen again.

Or was I? The dilemma over the question had been perplexing me for some time. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to be alone with him once more; a part of me that just some how could not shake the feeling of how comfortable and purely natural it felt to be coiled in his arms. That scared me, because I never let myself feel that way about anybody.

However, there would be no surprises for me this morning. Every other bed in the room was fully occupied. When I allowed my eyes to travel over to the bed where I saw tufts of beautiful black hair sticking haphazardly out of the covers, I felt an unwelcome pang of some feeling that I did not want to decipher.

That was enough to propel me. I quickly slid out of bed, squeezing my eyes tightly shut at the feeling of the stone cold floor beneath my feet, and the feeling of icy exposure surrounded me.

I pulled on my favourite hoodie and padded softly out towards the main living space with the main intention of indulging in a rich, smouldering hot chocolate. Someone I had not expected to see, however, had beaten me to the kitchen.

“Oh!” said the wrong-footed, high-pitched voice, “what are you doing up so early?”

I opened my mouth to respond to Annabelle’s raised eyebrows, but she was too quick for my poor early morning reactions, “not hoping to run into Gerard again are we?”
Her sandy coloured eyebrows darted up even further into her vivid hair and I rolled my eyes.

“Obviously not,” I said, and it came out more irritably than I had originally intended.

“Not much sleep again?” inquired Annabelle, and I was relieved to see that, as if she had read my mind, she was cobbling together a morning hot chocolate for me.

“No,” I grumbled, “I should never have shared a bed with Frank,”

Annabelle just raised her eyebrows again, as if to say ‘no, you shouldn’t have,’

I sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, defeated, “if a certain person hadn’t decided to reject me for her boyfriend, then I would have been ok!” I wasn’t really indignant, but I did feel slightly left out; your best friend is your best friend, and when she’s so wrapped up in her latest boyfriend that she can hardly see past her nose, it can be quite disconcerting.

Annabelle scowled slightly, stirring the heavenly brown liquid in the slightly chipped mug before her.

“I didn’t reject you,” she said evenly, “you don’t really think that, do you?” her eyes registered a look of concern now, so I shook my head sincerely.

“No, I don’t,” I said, “I just wish I didn’t have to go to bed knowing that I’ll achieve 5 hours’ sleep, max,”

Annabelle grimaced sympathetically and placed the mug in front of me. The steam rising from it was almost as appetising as the rich, chocolaty scent.

“So,” she said, taking a seat next to me at the breakfast bar, “I have something I really need to tell you,”

I frowned slightly in confusion. What would Annabelle have to tell me? There was nothing that could have happened in the past few days I wouldn’t have known about…

I studied her freckled face, desperate to see whether the news was good or bad. There was something in her eye a little different to anything I had ever seen before, and an almost sheepish grin played with the curve of her mouth.

“What is it?” I asked, blowing across the scalding surface of my hot chocolate. I felt like the warmth from the scorching hot cup was starting to spread through me a little.

“Well,” the grin got a little wider, “Mikey and I…”

My stomach felt a little queasy, and I felt like I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to confront in my mind that I knew.

“Mikey and you…?” I prompted, wanting her to get it over and done with. I blew again on my hot chocolate, not wanting to burn my tongue to a cinder.

“We…” she said, clearly trying to find the right words, “we…”

I wanted to scream at her to spit it out, but I just gripped the mug harder and prepared to drink some hot chocolate.

“We…” I thought that if she repeated the word again, I might have to punch her,
“Well,” she said, and I sighed once again. Could she draw it out any longer?
“We went all the way,” she said finally, saying all of the words in quick succession.
I took a large swig of hot chocolate in surprise, only to wince in pain; it was too hot, and my tongue was burned.

“Wow,” I managed to choke out.

I had seen it coming, of course, I wasn’t totally naïve. The problem was that somehow, I didn’t really feel that I was ready to hear it. I suppose that a part of me was slightly envious that I hadn’t found someone that I wanted to relinquish my virginity to. It was immature, childish, even, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to jump up and down like Rumpelstiltskin in the fairy tale, and have a huge tantrum until I got what I wanted – love; or at least, a deep and profound connection to another human being.

“What do you think?” asked Annabelle, looking extremely anxious for my opinion. I wondered fleetingly if my face had betrayed all of the thoughts that I had been considering.

“Are you happy?” I asked her seriously, and I didn’t even need her to answer.

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“Then I’m happy for you,” I said slowly and carefully, “if you’re pleased it happened and you think it felt right, then it was right,”

“Oh, it was right!” said Annabelle in a sing-song voice, “I love Mikey more than anyone!”

I looked down hastily into my mug to hide my slightly downcast expression. I didn’t have someone I loved more than anyone else.

Now, I’m not looking to unload my virginity onto any guy I happened to meet, it wasn’t related to that at all. Just meeting someone who could make me feel the way that Annabelle felt about Mikey would be enough.

“Enough about me and Mikey,” said Annabelle quickly, and I immediately felt guilty for letting my own self-pity encroach upon her coming-of-age. She seemed like she was a woman now, and I felt like a small girl, left behind.

“No, no, you go on,” I said, waving my hand self-effacingly.

“No,” said Annabelle firmly, and I was suddenly reminded of how much of a good friend she was.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked nonchalantly,

“Don’t act so innocent!” said Annabelle humorously, “you know I want to talk about Gerard,”

“There isn’t anything to talk about!” I said a little too quickly,

“Connie,” she said seriously, and I stopped hiding behind my fringe, “I know you like him,”

“I don’t!” I denied fruitlessly,

“Connie!” she repeated, a little louder, “I can tell that you really, really like him.”

She was wrong. I didn’t ‘really, really’ like him. It was already bordering on more than that.

My silence was all-too telling. Annabelle reached out and touched my hand comfortingly.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she told me seriously, “I know you have a chance, don’t forget what I said about tonight…”

I remembered; and I had absolutely no intention of following her advice.