What I Couldn't Tell Him

40 - You clueless little sh*t

JAIMIE PERRON

I didn't expect a call from Alden, nor would I have answered it if he had tried, but I found myself glancing at my phone every so often anyway. Why would he call? Why do I want him to?

I know that this will not be easy. Pretending I never kissed him, never met his family, never told him everything about myself. Well, nearly everything. He wouldn't have benfited from knowing the truth. I don't want to let him go, and it will break my heart doing it. Unfortunately, my heart is already broken.  

I have to make up for that. I have to make him think I am sly, disloyal b*tch who he doesn't want to associate with. I have to make him hate me. I was meant to make him hate me all along, but I couldn't do it. I wanted to surround myself with people and fun and it snowballed. I should've listened to what Elodie said. 

I thought it would be easy to become someone I am not. I thought that a personality could be rubbed out, forgotten. I thought that we could pick and choose who we were. We can't. It doesn't matter where you are, what they know about you. You cannot change who you are, so it is not worth trying. 

My phone hums as it vibrates against the smooth surface next to me and I unlock it, wincing in anticipation. I breathe out in relief when I see who it is. Jenni. 

 "Hey Jaimie. Heard about your... conversation with Alden."

" Yeah... It doesn't matter." I mumble, not sure how to respond. 

"Okay. Just wanted to check that you were still good." Her voice raises at the end of the sentence, daring me to answer honestly. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. See you." I say quickly, trying to cut her off. I don't want to talk about this. 

"You still coming to the beach?" She says, before I have the chance to hang up and pretend I didn't hear.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You have to! Don't be soft-"

I cut her off by hanging up, and throwing myself back on my bed with a frustrated sigh. It buzzes again, this time a text from her with a few dirty curses in it. I don't reply. 

ALDEN WOLFF

I have not yet dragged my sorry *ss out of bed when my phone rings. I jump, thinking it might be Jaimie, and cast a glance at my closed curtains. If it is, I wont answer. 

It isn't. It is Brooklyn. 

"Hey man," He starts.

"What do you want?" I reply, voice heavy with sleep, having not been used yet. 

"Are you still in bed? Lazy b*stard." He chuckles, then pauses.

"What?" I say gruffly, filling the silence he created. 

"What happened the other night? I mean, she is definitely not stupid. Did she get angry?" He babbles, piling questions on top of each other like rocks, weighing me down. I try to answer them all, without him having a major b*tch fit. 

"She noticed, obviously. She didn't get angry she was just.. She was quiet. I dunno." I pause then, and he doesn't speak so I continue, "She just said that she was sorry for telling me what to do, or some sh*t, and then went in." I shrug, even though he can't see me, trying to be casual even when my chest tightens at the memory. 

"That's not good, is it?" He says quietly. 

"I don't know." I admit. 

"Have you called her yet?"

I scoff, shaking my head, "No, and I'm not going to."

"You think that's going to f*cking help? You clueless little sh*t-"

"She made it pretty clear. I am not calling. Its done. Now f*ck off." I hang up. 

I sit upright, rubbing my eyes with heavy hands and raking my fingers through my hair. I see a light turn on in her room, making silhouettes against her curtains. I turn away. I don't want anything to do with the beautiful, brave, witty, intelligent girl through there. 

I can't help it though. I want to hold her like I did that night, when she broke down. I want to keep her warm, when nobody else is there. Nobody tells her they love her, and I want to be the first-

No. I cringe at my own thoughts. She doesn't want anything to do with me. I am done with her. She is just a girl, who happens to be blindingly beautiful. I have slept with many of them, so I will erase her from my mind like them. 

Its not the same, because they were never stuck in my head. There words didn't make me laugh even when they weren't there, there laugh didn't ring inside my head all the time. It will be hard, but I will get over it and I will never  tell anyone about this. 

 JAIMIE PERRON

"Jai? You awake?" My mother croones from her room. I roll my eyes. 

"Yeah, been up for hours and bought the shopping unlike your lazy *ss." I mutter to myself. I walk into her room and find her sat at her mirror with hair straighteners, attempting to tame the frizz that crowns her face. I got my dad's hair, soft and wavy. The only good thing I ever got from that bast*rd. 

Her face is pale, skin starting to droop and sag. Her eyes are rimmed with neat liner but the concealer under her eyes does nothing to hide the dark circles. Her lips are in a thoughtful pout. 

She watches herself in the mirror, moving in straight, precise sections. I have only straightened my hair a few times, and I did it quickly, picking random locks and running them through a few times by accident. I suppose that is a typical difference between us. 

She is meticulous, everything perfectly arranged and planned out. Her diary is full and coordinated, everything listed by the hour. 

I can't keep my room neat for longer than twelve hours, I throw on whatever is in my wadrobe and I text twenty minutes before to tell someone if I can make it or not. 

That is the issue, I suppose. If I was like her, calculated everything and all my relationships, moving here would not have been a waste. I would never have got myself into this mess; we would be isolated and it would have worked.  I took that from my dad too. I wish I hadn't, because not only did it mess up their marriage, it has messed up this move and the remainder of my life.   

"Be a dear and get the shopping, will you? We are running low on practically everything." I force a little smile and a laugh. 

"I already did."

"Oh, lovely. Why don't you go out with your friends or something? You seem to spend all your time in the house." There is a mild bitterness in her tone, probably at the fact I actually have friends.

I actually go out a lot, but your too busy watching that tv bullsh*t to notice what your daughter is doing. 

Instead of saying that, I smile and say "Its fine. I have homework anyway." 

I walk into my room, thinking about jumping out of the window to see how long it would take her to notice my splattered corpse. She probably wouldn't, because the supermodel daughter in her tv show is getting married today. 

I was looking idly around my room when a familiar feeling seized my body. My breathing hitches as it spreads, pulling and ripping and tearing through my body like a fire.

"Mum!" I croak, before everything spins around me, colours becoming spilled paint across my eyes.

"Mum!"