Broken Things

I woke the next morning to added weight at the foot of my bed. When I talked myself into opening my eyes, they fell upon Declan, dressed in a pair of blue skinny jeans and a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms.

“What do you want?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

“It’s my last day off and we’re going sight seeing!” He declared. “Get up.”

I didn’t bother to humor him. Instead, I buried my face into my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t be sure what time it was, but I had been up late, unable to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. Waking up to a demanding Declan hadn’t been something I anticipated the night before, and I had absolutely no intentions of being out of my bed until at least 11, but his hand slipped beneath the sheets and began tickling my feet.

I jerked up, sitting upright as my back hit the headboard. As I glared at him, he grinned back, pushing his weight up off my bed and telling me I had half an hour.

Reluctantly, I threw the covers off and let my feet hit the hardwood floor. I dug through my drawers until I found some clean clothes to wear, then headed for the shower, all the while rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

The water pressure in our apartment was shitty, to say the least. The temperature never got anywhere near warm enough and the bathroom lock was broken, so I managed to be in and out in twelve minutes flat, which was a record time when it came to shaving my legs.

I could hear the TV on in the living room when I walked back to my room, shutting the door behind me as I plugged in my blow dryer and got to work taming my thick mane of hair. When I was satisfied in how it fell in a straight curtain past my shoulders, I threw on some makeup and called it quits.

Declan was poised on the couch with his feet on the coffee table when I entered the room, purse slung over my shoulder. My sandals had been haphazardly thrown by the door and I slipped into them easily while he finished the text he’d been typing furiously. With a click of the remote, he was up and swinging his lone key around his finger in a circle. Wordlessly, he reached around me and pushed open the door. I followed without a word, wishing only that I’d made a to-go cup of coffee before he locked the door behind us.

“I was thinking Hollywood for the morning, Beverly Hills in the afternoon, and maybe Santa Monica for this evening. What do you think?” he asked as he held the gate open for me, leading the way to his car. I shrugged, indifferent. The way I saw it, today was just as much for him as it was for me.

“I don’t care as long as we stop off for a cup of coffee and maybe some breakfast,” I replied as I slid on a pair of sunglasses.

Declan nodded as he unlocked the car. The metal burned my hand as I pulled on the handle, but I ignored the sting as I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt.

I still hadn’t forgotten what it had been like the last time I found myself in a car with Declan for a drive further than three blocks away, so I was understandably nervous as he put on his turn signal for the highway. From the underpass, I could see the slow-moving pace of traffic and knew it would be a while before I had my coffee.

I reached forward for the radio, in desperate need of distraction. He didn’t protest, so I flipped through stations until I found an agreeable one, some Ellie Goulding song I recognized playing softly through the speakers. Relaxing into my seat, my eyes drifted to the view in the distance, barely visible over the concrete barricades set up on either side of the motorway. The houses extended for as far as I could see, clumps of palm trees peeking out above them. I wondered if I would ever get used to it.

“I haven’t done anything this tourist-y since I first moved here,” Declan said, more for conversation’s sake than anything. “Are you excited?”

I didn’t take my eyes from the rows and rows of houses, especially since he had thrown on his turn signal and watching him merge into traffic would more than likely have sent me into cardiac arrest. Instead, I shrugged, only hoping that he didn’t see it because he was too busy focusing on the road.

“There’s something about seeing it all in person that kind of takes the magic away from it, you know?”

“How so?”

He had effectively cut off a green pick-up truck, the driver laying on the horn as Declan sarcastically waved a thanks. I watched in slight terror, yearning for the Tube. Declan’s blue eyes found mine and I remembered I was supposed to be answering his question.

“I don’t know. I guess when you see it in pictures or on a screen, you can pretend like it’s this place where perfection can be reached and nothing ever goes wrong. Seeing it in person reminds you it’s no different than anywhere else. Life sucks the same no matter where you are.”

Declan’s brows were furrowed as he considered this, switching into a passing lane to get around a crawling Greyhound bus. I lowered my eyes to my fingernails where the dark green polish was chipped, but keep picking at it anyway.

I suppose my answer was a little morbid, but I couldn’t help but dread the sinking feeling I was sure to get strolling down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, legendary names scuffed and chipped under the weight of too many careless feet stomping about. Sadder yet, the people soaked in sweat, dressed as characters and making money off of guilting tourists into giving tips for every photo snapped.

No, LA was much more pathetic than the silver screen likes to portray it.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said after a few moments, disappointment lacing the tone of his voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dec,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

“No, really. We can do something else. We can just go to the beach or see a movie or something,” he suggested, turning to me. I looked over at him, frowning.

“What kind of person would I be to live in Los Angeles and never see the sights?”

“Sawyer, you literally just said –”

“Don’t worry about what I just said. If I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t be going.”

He fell silent and I had the feeling he was thinking of another way to talk me out of going, but despite the fact that I knew this would probably ruin the way I watched <i>Clueless</i> from now on, I was mildly interested in seeing what all the hype was about. So I reached forward to turn the music up louder, giving him a pointed glare when he warily glanced at me.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as he maneuvered his way to the appropriate exit and drove through the crowded streets of downtown Hollywood. Sometimes, as we drove past things, he’d don a tour guide voice and point out landmarks.

“Nick Jonas lives in that hotel,” he said when we passed the W. “Wanna stake it out?”

I punched his arm, trying to hide my blush at the mention of my Jonas Brothers obsession. It had been a dark time for us all, but it was something Declan liked to frequently bring up in order to draw a blush from me. He grinned as he turned on his signal to enter a parking garage beneath the Dolby Theater.

As we made our way deeper underground in search of a parking spot, I pulled off my sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of my sun dress. It didn’t take too long to find parking on a weekday afternoon, and ten minutes later we were emerging into a shopping area attatched to the entrance of the theater.

“Don’t they do the Oscars here?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder through the glass doors that allowed a view into the posh theater.

“Yeah. They do a lot of movie premieres, too. Sometimes they completely shut down Hollywood Boulevard for it. It’s always fun getting stuck in traffic down here on those nights.”

I nodded absently as I tried to keep pace with him, pushing through throngs of tourists and photographers.

“There’s a Starbucks over here, if you want to grab coffee or whatever,” he offered. My eyes scanned the signs until I found the familiar mermaid, and I couldn’t help but smile. When I looked back at Declan, he was rolling his eyes. “Come on, then.”

The line was ridiculous, but the coffee smelled too delicious for me to pass up. There was a low rumbling in my stomach that had been present all morning. I had never been one for skipping the most important meal of the day and I was desperate for a muffin.

Declan kept quiet beside me, periodically checking his phone every few minutes. I tried not to be annoyed, but I couldn’t help but suspect who he was corresponding with.

“Where’s your best friend today?” I asked casually, eyeing the custom-made Hollywood mugs as we shuffled forward in the line.

“Standing right next to me, sounding bitter,” he replied easily as he tucked his phone back in his pocket, sending me a lopsided smirk. I glared at him.

“You know who I mean. I was beginning to think I’d never see one without the other.”

“They’re in the studio all day. Did you forget that he’s here for a reason?”

“You mean besides bringing unhappiness to my life? Yes, I had,” I shot back, bitterly. Declan shook his head in disappointment, but I ignored him in favor of stepping up to the register and ordering a blueberry muffin and a trenta iced coffee with milk. I stepped aside after paying, Declan close by my side.

“That kind of morning, huh?” he asked, referring to my coffee size. I didn’t bother with a verbal response, instead nodding my head as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you, believe it or not,” he mumbled.

“I don’t want to get into it,” I answered him, stepping forward when my order was called. I thanked the barista as I accepted the brown paper sack and coffee. “Do you want to keep walking or is it okay if we eat here?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he led the way toward a small table near the window that had been vacated only moment earlier by two Asian girls with camera straps digging into their necks. I sucked in a deep breath, exhaling through my nose like I had been taught by my therapist in those three years my mom forced me to go. Sitting down, I defiantely pulled open the bag and began to pick bits off the muffin.

“He worries about you, Sawyer. I do, too, for that matter,” he finally said, leaning forward on the table with his elbows as he played with the wrapper from my straw.

“I’ve never concerned him before, I don’t know why he’d start worrying about me now,” I replied before taking a sip of my drink.

“Come off it, Sawyer. He’s always cared about you.”

“Harry has two years of drunken missed calls and voicemails from me that beg to differ. Smartest decision he probably ever made was changing his number.”

“Did the thought ever occur to you that maybe the break-up wasn’t easy for him, either?” Declan sighed, reaching forward for a piece of my muffin. I eyed him suspiciously before handing over a chunk.

“I don’t know, maybe I should ask one of the twenty plus models he shagged in the first few months after it happened,” I snapped.

Declan frowned before popping the bit of muffin into his mouth. He chewed slowly, swallowing it before making his response.

“He was a kid. You were, too. Can’t we be mature about this?”

I rolled my eyes, finishing off the last bit of blueberry muffin. “Have I punched him yet?” I asked. He rolled his eyes, fighting a smile.

“Well, I suppose that’s all I can really ask of you,” he replied sarcastically.

I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows at him. “Exactly.”

I stood then, crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it in the bin with the last few sips of my drink. Declan was right behind me as we pushed out onto the pulsing sidewalk.

“Chinese Theater?” he asked, offering me his arm.

“Chinese Theater,” I confirmed with a nod, looping my arm through his.

I’m not sure what it was that convinced him to drop it. Maybe he sensed he would still get no where with me and didn’t want to ruin a good day. For that, I was appreciative. The last thing I wanted was to spend all day with him, tensely making small comments as we passed various landmarks. I didn’t want to focus on the tension between us, created by a boy who had unintentionally ruined everything. Instead, I hoped the tension would disappate, at least for the day we were going to spend together.

As we rounded the corner leading up to the Chinese Theater, I watched in awe as tourists posed for photos and slowly made their rounds, taking in the hand and footprints of the most iconic actors and actresses Hollywood has ever seen etched into the concrete. The thing about Hollywood was that you didn’t have to feel self-conscious about how embarrassingly obvious it was that you were a tourist; everyone here was. It was how Hollywood thrived, the people here welcoming and centering their businesses around it.

So that’s why I didn’t hesitate to grab Mr. Incredible and pose for a photo with him while Declan grinned and took it on his iPhone, promising to text it to me later. It was why I wasn’t self-conscious about sitting on the slab of concrete where Marilyn Monroe had signed her name with her finger and dated it June 26th, 1953 while I hammed it up for the camera. And when my eyes fell upon the most embarrassing souvenir shop imaginable, I led the way while Declan laughed behind me.

All in all, I was having a pretty awesome time. By the time we were on our way back to our car to make a stop at the Hollywood sign for a photo op, I had a new floral LA snapback and two Republic of California tee-shirts that I knew would probably never see the light of day from anywhere except the sheets of my bed. My mood had lightened tremendously, and it was nice to just be able to spend time with Declan, goofing around and making lame jokes.

Sliding into the car, I relaxed into the passenger seat as Declan started the engine and settled on a radio station he liked. I tried not to complain about the shitty Katy Perry remix that fought against the FM radio static, instead letting my eyes softly fall shut as he began in the direction of the Hollywood sign.

“Would you rather go home?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head, focusing on the red backs of my eyelids as the song changed so something a little more tolerable.

“I’m having a nice time, actually,” I responded as I stifled a yawn.

“You look pretty knackered to me.”

“I’m fine,” I shook my head, peeking one eye open to show him I meant it.

He chuckled quietly and pointed ahead.

“Well, the road is closed, so this is as close as we’re going to get.”

I sat up tiredly, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to sharpen my focus. Declan pulled over to the side of the road and I undid my seatbelt before pushing open the door. A light breeze was blowing, sending my hair behind me in all directions to tangle and entwine, but I was too invested in leaning against the open door and biting down on a smile. I heard a shutter sound and turned to see Declan smirking as he took a candid shot.

“Hey!” I whined. “I wasn’t ready!”

He slammed his door, walking around to the back side of the car and pointing his camera at me. I glanced over my shoulder and realized that if I stepped up into the car, holding the open door to steady myself, he’d be able to get both the sign and myself in the shot. So I did that, throwing one hand in the air and laughing as he snapped the photo.

When he was done, I turned back to the view, eyeing it as I took a deep breath of California air. Leaning my head on my forearm as it curled against the hood of the car, I examined one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world. It seemed so surreal to be standing there, looking at it in person with context rather than to see it on a television screen.

“Are you ready?” Declan asked. I turned to look at him as he finished typing yet another text and stuffed the phone back in his jeans. His eyes found mine from behind a pair of aviator Raybans and I nodded, giving the sign one last glance before hopping down and shutting the door behind me.

“Beverly Hills?” I asked as he put the car in reverse. To my surprise, he shook his head.

“Let’s skip it and go another time. Santa Monica Pier is calling our name.”

I knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Are we skipping Beverly Hills because you had planned on another Harry ambush but had a change of heart?”

When Declan didn’t respond, I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, eyes returning to the passing houses. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I spoke again.

“I think I want to start looking for apartments soon.”

“Really?” Declan asked as he pulled up to a stop light. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept them trained ahead.

“Yeah. No offense to you, but it just might make things easier for me.”

“He won’t be around forever, Sawyer. Just while they’re working on the album,” he said. I shrugged.

“I love you, Dec, and I love hanging out with you, but I think I’ll get by better on my own. I’m used to it now and it feels weird to be sharing space with another person.”

He kept silent as the light turned green and he lightly accelerated. I had only been in California a total of four days, so I knew that it would come as a shock that I’d want to move out so soon. But I’d always liked to do things my way, and I was determined to get my shit together, sans help. On top of that, I didn’t like feeling like I was burdening him. I still had yet to meet any of his friends, and I’m sure he must have had a few, but they’d been warded off by my arrival and his doubtless warnings to them that I hadn’t been in the most stable of states.

I didn’t want to be treated as delicate anymore, so it was time to start actling like I wasn’t.

The drive to Santa Monica took thirty-five minutes in traffic, but it was worth it when my eyes caught sight of the sea. It was mid-afternoon by this time, and it felt nice to stretch my legs when he pulled into a space and I was finally able to feel the wind again.

He led the way with me following slowly behind. I’d always loved watching the crowds, and this was a people-watcher’s dream. As we walked past a carousel, packed to capacity with children and their parents as well as young teenagers in short shorts passing lollipops between themselves and their counterparts, I was fascinated by how undeniably unashamed these people were to just <i>be</i>.

It was something I had been picking up on all day, but it wasn’t until I watched one of the young girls steal a snapback from her boyfriend just before his lips crashed into hers that it hit me. This complete openness and acceptance that seemed to permeate the air was much different than the small-town gossip I’d grown accustomed to in Holmes Chapel. No one here really seemed to care what you did or what you looked like. Maybe California had a reputation for skinny girls in bikinis and surfer boys carrying longboards, but I’d never seen a wider array of people before in my life.

“Bet I could kick your ass in the milk toss,” came Declan’s voice suddenly beside me. I hadn’t even realized I had stopped until he spoke.

With furrowed eyebrows, my eyes scanned the space around the carousel for where boardwalk games were. I turned to mention this to him when I realized it was all behind me, a bit further off in the distance. With a grin, I turned to him.

“I’d say to stay away from Vegas, because you make pretty bad bets.”

With that, I punched his arm and took off in the direction of the boardwalk games. He let out a yelp before chasing after me, laughing as I artfully dodged through the crowd to make it to the game first, throwing down my five dollars to an amused boardwalk employee. He accepted and handed me three softballs before taking Declan’s money and giving him the same.

“Ladies first,” Declan told me, bowing at the waist. I rolled my eyes before turning to the pyramid of metal milk bottles. Taking aim, I let one fly and hit dead center, knocking all over but one. The attendant nonchalantly whistled a tune as he walked past the mess I made, pushing over the last bottle with his finger and a wink in my direction.

“That’s cheating!” Declan shouted, glaring at the attendant before turning his narrowed eyes to me.

“I didn’t do anything,” I argued, crossing my arms as I leaned against the booth. “I would just say you’re a sore loser.”

Declan grumbled as he got into position, reeling his arm back like a baseball pitcher before he threw the ball with such force that I jumped when it collided with the stack of bottles. They were all effectively knocked over, and it was my turn to frown as he smirked in my direction.

“I’d say it was a tie,” the carnival worker said, handing us each a Minion stuffed animal. I accepted with a smile, but Declan eyed the boy warily as if to ask him just who he thought he was to be commenting on a serious sporting event such as the one he’d just witnessed.

“What else is there to do?” I asked, if only to take his attention from the poor kid who probably wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with Declan’s antics.

“There are some shops and restaurants,” he started as we began to walk. “We could do the rollercoaster and ferris wheel, if you want.”

I looked down to the oversized stuffed animal in my hand, then back to Declan.

“I don’t think the four of us will all fit.”

He chuckled, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his head. “Well, I don’t mind ditching my date, but something tells me you’ve grown pretty attatched to yours.”

I looked down at the Minion I was clutching to my chest like a small girl would clutch a doll. When I looked back up at him, I gave him my most winning smile.

“Well, he’s a better date than you.”

“I bet you’ll take him with you when you move. What a lucky bloke.”

I bumped his hip with mine playfully, leading him over to the wooden railing that lined the pier. Below us, hoards of people were sunning themselves on towels or playing games in the sand. A few brave souls had even ventured out into the cold water, laughing and shouting from the waves.

“It’s going to take me a while to find an apartment, Dec. I’m not moving out tomorrow or anything.”

“I know,” he said, setting his stuffed animal on the railing beside him as he leaned backward on it against his forearms. “I just think maybe you’re rushing into this.”

I sighed, setting my Minion beside his before I ran a hand through my hair.

“If I don’t move out soon, I might not ever. And I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in LA having girls warded off by your female roommate. I’m quite scary, you know.”

He rolled his head backward dramatically before looking at me.

“Absolutely terrifying,” he agreed sarcastically. I winked, turning my attention back to the activities on the beach.

“Well, if you want to start looking, I’ll make a list tonight of some places you might want to check into,” he told me, flipping around so we were both facing in the same direction now. He had his hands clasped in front of him, leaning forward as he peeked over the railing.

I didn’t say anything. It was a comfortable silence we lapsed into as I leaned my head on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the horizon and the endless body of water that stretched out as far as I could see.

For the first time since arriving in LA, I felt completely at peace.