Paper Hearts

21

It was the weekend, and I was determined to do absolutely nothing for two days straight before I had to face the reality of my current situation.

"Yeah, but was I really in love?" I asked Rachael, my phone pressed to my ear as I dabbed at my eyes with Kleenex, the credits of Pride and Prejudice rolling on my television screen. "I mean, maybe the whole fake-boyfriend thing just got me emotional; maybe I wasn't thinking straight—"

"Vick," she interrupted me, and I faltered, "You liked him. Admit it, accept it, move on. There's a lot of crap you have to deal with afterwards, but acceptance is step one."

"I can't talk to him!" I protested. "Not now, not ever. Mom will just have to get over the fact that I'm single, and I'm going to be that way for the rest of—"

"Don't get all depressed on yourself, Vicki," she reprimanded me, "No way. We're not gonna let that happen, you hear me?"

"Yes," I told her, my voice flat as the phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call. "Someone else is calling; I'll get back to you, okay?"

"Don't do anything you might regret."

"Gotcha."

I accepted the phone call, and a familiar voice filled my ear.

"Hello, is this Victoria Hemmings, the victim of a terrible crime committed by Luke Callaway?"

"Nolan?" I asked, my tone cautious. "Is this you?"

"Yes. And I'm calling in place of Luke Callaway, who is too ashamed of himself to speak to you in person. Also, he claims you've blocked his number."

"Because I have," I snapped. "Nolan, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time—"

"Of course you do. Right now, I assume you're in the mourning phase of the heartbreak, which means you are eating more than advised and watching sappy old movies about love that you think you will never have."

"Nolan," I snapped, and he heaved a great sigh.

"Before you formally apologize, it's okay," I interrupted quickly. "Now, I really need to—"

"Look." Nolan muttered, "Luke feels terrible about what happened. More than terrible. I've never seen the guy more depressed in his life. He literally asked Sherry to change his tattoo to the word 'i***t'. And she did."

I rolled my eyes. "Nolan, I don't care. What happened...it happened. I'm not mourning, and neither should he. He got what he wanted."

"No, he didn't, Victoria. He really didn't. All he ended up with is a broken-hearted Elle Dunst, an egged pickup, and the inevitablility of you hating him for the rest of his life."

"If he cares that much, he should have done something," I protested, not even angry with myself for arguing, "Instead, he just looked at me. Looked at me, Nolan. I mean, what kind of i***t—"

"Luke is that kind of i***t. It says so on his wrist."

"God, Nolan, I can't do this right now. Please, just forget about it."

"That's what I told Luke to do, but he insisted. He's called you about a hundred times now, and every once and a while, he asks me if it would be unethical to call you from his home phone, which you have not blocked."

"Nolan..."

"Hear me out, Hemmings. Luke's going crazy; I've never seen him like this. It's unnerving. He normally just gets over a girl and moves onto the next one, but this has really got him beating himself up."

I had to admit—if there was one thing I knew, it was that Nolan Johnson never lied.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, despite the way my gut wrenched when I uttered the words, "But I can't just forgive him. It's really not a good time. I have to cancel our tickets, and explain everything to my mom—"

"Oh, God, no, don't do that!" Nolan burst out. "If there's one thing you need to avoid doing, it's that. Luke messed up, and if he were here to tell you so, he would. But you can't risk everything with your mother because of this. And that's coming from me. Just—give him a chance to make things right, okay?"

I pinched my eyes shut, glancing up at the now-blank television and blowing out a sigh.

"Fine. But I'm not going to go looking for him."

"Thank God," Nolan said, and I hung up before he had a chance to add anything else.

________

Attending school on Monday was like attending my own personal spa day in hell. Rachael had a doctor's appointment that morning, so I had no one to accompany me through the double-doors and into the hallway, much less my first few classes. I was completely singled out; I hardly spoke a word throughout each period, and I didn't see Luke the entire time—which, in a way, was a blessing. God knows what I'd say to him if I had.

It was around lunch when Rachael called me and told me that she was down with strep throat, and that she wouldn't be back until Wednesday, which seemed like a century away. I told her I understood anyways, and she told me that she was proud of me, and that was that.

Until someone slid their lunch tray directly across from the empty seat across from mine, sitting down with a thump and saying,

"Victoria Hemmings."

I felt a lump rise in my throat, glancing up quickly to catch sight of Luke Callaway before looking down again, my hands shaking with overworked nerves.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice tight.

"I'm asking for your forgiveness." He said softly, his voice gentle and intent. "And I'm telling you that I'm beyond sorry for what happened the other night, and I'll do anything—"

"Save it, Luke." I told him, anger suddenly overtaking me, crashing into me like the tidal wave that adorned his wrist not so long ago. "I don't want to hear it. What you did—it doesn't even matter. I don't give a damn. You can go around kissing whoever you want; I'm not your girlfriend. It's not like we were dating or anything. You were just doing me a favor, but apparently you won't be doing me that favor anymore, so just don't worry about it because I am completely done with this and I am completely done with you."

The words that left my mouth hardly felt like my own; I spoke them with venom and spite that I didn't even know I possessed—but I was out of my seat and walking away before I could even see his reaction. Instead, I threw my discarded lunch in a trash bin, slammed the tray onto a nearby table, and stalked out of the cafeteria, down the hallway, past the bathrooms where he had kissed me for the very first time, and out the door to the back parking lot, where I proceeded to sink onto a picnic table and cry, harder than I had over the entire weekend, even when I was sitting in Rachael's car, because the world was unfair and I had to live in it and cope with the way things were.

Because the truth was, I was still hanging onto the hope that loving Luke Callaway was okay, when it most definitely was not.