american dream || pulisic

twenty-six

One, don't pick up the phone, you know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.

Two, don't let him in, you have to kick him out again.

Three, don't be his friend, you know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning.

"Okay, those are just lyrics to New Rules by Dua Lipa."

"Okay, but these are actual rules you'd want to follow by if you ever want to get over that boy of yours," Marcelle explained, sitting across from the American as she laid on the couch. It was only her today, being the one who's experienced heartbreak and hurt from her loved one—she felt she could at least help her friend...by using Dua Lipa lyrics. "And it's a good song."

"You're right but..." Ellie sighed. "I....I still—"

"You what?"

Ellie hates explaining her feels down to the point, they're eating her from the inside and make her want to throw up. Especially when they remind her of the boy who once loved her.

If there's anything she wants, she just wants him to like her again, but it's not like she can do anything.

I still love him, but I don't want to.

"I really liked him. I liked him more than I liked Riley. He was...he made me feel loved, you know? It was nice to have someone other than my family love me and make sure I knew that."

Marcelle rubbed her back soothingly, brushing away the stray hairs from her face. Ellie looked truly sad—an emotion Christian's never seen on her before. He only knew her as happy and full of wonder, her eyes making him lost in the world, and her hands on his jaw as she kissed him. He always did wonder what else went on in her life because she was always laughing, but then again, he wasn't always true to himself either.

Not everyone can be happy, they might be happy on the outside, but you'll never know what they're thinking on the outside. Ellie, a true master at faking emotions since sophomore year of high school, always knew this but never did anything about it. Never told him.

And it may have been her biggest mistake.

On the other hand, you had Marcelle, who was not even similar to Ellie, be compared to her—she was happy, funny, tough. Everything Ellie strived to be.

Well, at least she looked like it.

"Ellie," Marcelle spoke smoothly, "your loved ones are going to hurt you someday. They're going to hurt you, and you're gonna have to accept the fact they're human, too."

"I know, it's just that—" she shut her eyes tight. "I don't know if I did anything wrong. Like, am I too boring? Too happy?"

"No, Christian's probably dumb. But what do you want, El? Are you just going to mope around about some boy?"

She shook her head—no, that would make her feel even more bad for herself. "No. Well, I don't want to, but I—"

"Then you can do this, Ellie. If he calls or texts you, don't answer it."

"'Cause he's probably drunk and alone."

That seemed easy, she can do this. It's only one thing that she doesn't even have to try for.

It's been weeks since their last text to each other—it was a daily goodnight from her, left on read by him, never returned back. Well, it's not like it made a difference. He broke up with her anyways.

She sat up from her spot on the couch, running fingers through her hair, wiping her sticky tear-stained cheeks from earlier. "I shouldn't have to be crying about some boy," she said. "I should be crying about how Kasia drop kicked right into my face."