Not the One

Chapter 1

AN: I am just awful at making covers, so if anyone wants to make one and message it to me that would be fantastic! Also, please vote, comment, and share ;)

My leg fell asleep as I thought about some of the major turning points that the summer had brought to me. With the first day of school tomorrow, I would imagine most other kids were doing the same as me (minus the leg-sleeping part, but you know, it's not impossible).Some, however would be getting drunk to forget, only to be hyper aware the following day. Their red eyes and pounding heads on the lookout for teachers who might tell their parents of suspicions to last night's escapades.

I will not say where I lived was a place where everyone knew everyone, because I honestly swear that I see a new face everyday. Of course, that could just be because I only really hang out with a hand full of people outside of school. New kids could be rumors among the halls, but that didn't mean I'd recognize the new face. They would have to be introduced as the new kid, otherwise I would assume they'd been in my district's school system their entire lives. My mom and I had only moved here a week before my freshman year, four years ago. I wasn't introduced as a new kid, I never had to stand in front of the class and say my name and where I came from. Some realized I hadn't been in town from diaper years, but it wasn't often mentioned until someone started talking about a teacher they had in middle school and asked if I remembered them. It was small containing an approximate amount of 7,000 people. Within these thousands, I only associated myself with about twenty, including my friend's and I's parents. It wasn't the perfect, stereotypical small town where everyone would know you had three dogs and the names of each. It also wasn't the big city where the mall was five minutes away. My town was somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards the small town cliche. It was where horses in the drive thru weren't abnormal, and busy lives were simply not sought after very often.

Anyways, I had briefly mentioned summer turning points. It all really started at the annual end-of-school-year bonfire that was hosted by whoever was quickest on the draw to announce their ownership of such an attended party (teens from our high school, and even some out-of-towners came). I'd went with my aforementioned group of friends. The crew, as I liked to call them, included Skye Jones, Rowan Anderson, and Elijah Brexton. We got close to the fire, and while the guys went crazy, mocking any semblance of a good dance, Skye and I had been a little bit more hesitant. After looking around us, we decided to let loose. This wasn't too hard, especially after we considered that most of the kids had been drinking and the only real evidence would be if we got too wild and someone recorded us. I wouldn't have been surprised to see that happen, as I know it had happened to many in the past. We didn't get too wild, but we did have fun. I saw Skye's long blue hair whipping around in the glow of the fire. The fire's light and warmth encompassed whoever stood within a thirty foot radius. No one brought a jacket, and stood packed close instead. The mix of a blazing fire, closely molded bodies, and dancing made for an almost overbearing heat that blanketed the party. With my mind finally void of self-consciousness, I hadn't noticed that one boy had been staring at my silhouette as I danced with the flames. David Davidson was the football captain, intelligent, golden boy. He noticed me that night, and like most girls who would agree to a date with the most popular boy, I began to fall for him that summer.

Throughout the three months, I began to notice him too. With that fact stated, I'll also let you privy to the information that that had also been our undoing. I understand that everyone has their flaws, but his left a bad taste in my mouth. Like the blood I swallowed subsequently because he kissed me too roughly after a waiter looked at me too long. He didn't beat me, or even try to hurt me necessarily. Nevertheless, when you've listened to your gut your entire life without it straying you wrong, you listen. So when your gut aches like it just got punched, you take the message and run. He always had to know where I was, who I was with, and he never liked my answer. I know this doesn't equate to physical abuse, but I sure as hell knew that it wasn't love. I'd read too many books to not be aware of that. I also knew that I didn't want to wait around to find if it would morph into a relationship that he wouldn't let me walk away from.

I wrote about him, like I do with many things, especially the ones that bother me. The way we began, the way I could've and almost changed, and the way he was; it all bothered me almost to a point that I would rather not admit. The problem is that if I don't admit it, if I don't write about us, there is a much higher chance that I won't ever get over him. That was a chance I didn't want to take, he was a memory I wouldn't mind forgetting. Unfortunately our short story is the kind of memory you don't forget, the kind of mistake you wouldn't want to make twice, and the lesson you shouldn't have to learn again. I'll probably write a lot about him, in a lot of different lights, with a lot of different words. This is what I have right now:

I'd fallen in love with the good boy. I mean who doesn't? I guess, what I thought had been the real miracle, was that he loved me too. Not that I had low self esteem, but I had never seen myself with the golden boy whose hair matched his description and whose eyes reminded you of the beach. I simply hadn't pictured my life going that way, but it did. We had been everything I'd read about in the books, the couple that makes you smile because, supposedly they were meant to last. I wasn't desperate for attention, but he's been the first to see me in a light other than just friends. He saw my hesitation to dance, and then he saw I had no problem with it while I was surrounded by my friends. I hadn't been scared, I'd been slightly uncomfortable, and then I was free. He saw that. So yes, I'd fallen in love with the boy that noticed me.

My mistake.

He's gotten possessive and jealous, and while I don't mind those characteristics, he took it too far. He got extremely upset when I hugged my guy friends, who had girlfriends. I told them I loved them because I'd known them my whole life. He said he was there for me for the rest of my life, so I wouldn't need them. He always had to know where I was and got upset if five minutes passed and I hadn't told him. In his mind though, it was alright for him to flirt with other girls.

We'd been dating for three months.

None of this is too bad, I know. I'm an aspiring writer though, and I fall in love with potential too often. His potential though, it screamed stay in a way that made me want to run. He could be toxic in a way that I didn't feel like I should have to be immune to.

So I broke it off.

We had a summer romance, and I stopped it there. Never wanting to go past the point that might never let me back to who I was. While I was the one who decided we shouldn't be together anymore, I was still upset. I couldn't help but feel I lost the only person who might ever really see me, the only one who would ever love me beyond a platonic point.

On another note, but still on the turning point topic, I'll also share some positive moments. My friends and I "unplugged" for a day, which means we went without any electronics for a whole twenty four hours. The only things we could use that had electricity or a power button of the sorts, was the oven and our vehicles. Honestly, with everything that happened this summer, that was still probably one of the hardest times for all us. After tackling each other several times because we all kept thinking we could make a mad dash towards the pile of electronics and actually grab one long enough to do something with it, we finally made it to midnight. We also all went camping with each other. In hindsight, we probably should have done the unplug day that same time, but I also feel that we desperately needed the speaker when every other sound ended up scaring Skye. We also "snuck" into a bar for an open mic night. Come to our knowledge after we walked out the bar, snickering that we were so sneaky, we saw the sign that said "Open Mic Night/King of Diamonds Bar/Anyone 16+ is Welcome." With red cheeks from embarrassment, we laughed off our idiocy and went home. I also spent a day alone, away from my mom, my boyfriend of the time, and my friends. It was peaceful, fun, and a good way to get really comfortable with yourself. I suggested that all my friends do it, but I don't think they have.

There were a lot more moments worth sharing, but this story isn't about the summer. It's more about what happened after summer, because of certain situations, and lessons learned. Certain situations made me nervous for the rest of the school year. I was afraid that everyone would judge me and think that I broke the jock's heart. Which, maybe I had. I believe it's better I ended it at a summer fling that he could forget about, and that I could walk away from. I didn't want to have to make excuses for my actions or face stares/glares. I kept telling myself: one more year. I can do this, it's not impossible. High school drama, I'm pretty sure, was invented to make people stronger, despite how much it felt like it might kill us. Besides, I was one badass mofo who could make it through anything.