DRAWN (30 page)

          He’s so, so unfair.

          Can’t he see this is such a
girl
thing to do?  How am I supposed to know what to say this moment when he’s just dumped on me 16 years’ worth of trauma in five bloody minutes?

Guys are supposed to say it as it is. They’re never supposed to keep anything to them because they’re smarter than girls that way. They know it’s just a bloody waste of time to say one thing but feel another. They know that loving another person doesn’t mean the two of you automatically have a private ESP link.

 “I’m sorry.” It’s the only honest thing I can say. I can pretend to be Dr. Phil for him, but Yuki deserves more than that. I don’t want to say I know what he’s going through, how he’s feeling right now, because I don’t.

Yuki smirks.

It catches me by surprise, not because he does it, but more because it’s just not his usual smirk. It’s not cute. It’s not cool. It’s more a jerk’s kind of smirk actually and I flinch at the sight of it.

“Didn’t I tell you a while ago you don’t have to be sorry for me?” His hands briefly settle on my shoulder, spinning me around before I can get over my shock. Yuki whispers to my ear, “When you go, it really won’t make a difference. Do you see all those girls staring at us? All of them are waiting for me to dump you. They want to be my next toy.”

          Only two seconds pass but I’ve already counted at least eleven pairs of eyes on me before they finally realize I’m staring back at them in a daze. Their eyes swerve away like cars driving back to the lane they’re supposed to be on.

          Out of those eleven pairs, ten of those were girls. The last pair’s gay.

          This time, the silence is more like a bee’s sting, where you don’t just worry over the pain. You also worry about how your face could get all bloated and horrible because of it.

          Every student in this hallway knows now that I’ve gone after Yuki. They don’t have to speak Nihongo to know that, and they certainly don’t need a translator to interpret the shame on my face. They know he’s turned me down, too. And right now, they’re also going to know I won’t go down just like that.

          But when I look back, Yuki’s gone.

          First to fourth periods fly by without me saying a word. I can’t. I’m afraid if I do, I’m going to cry. I’m such a wimp.

          Lace passes me a note in class.

         
Are you okay?

         
I was dumped.

          I’m sorry.

          It’s okay. I’ll get him back.

          The game’s not over till it’s over.

         
I smile at her.

          Lace does her best to smile back. She hates it when people go emo on her, but because I’m her best friend she’s doing her best not to roll her eyes at my glassy stare and trembling lips.

          When the lunch bell rings, I run out of the room. When I don’t catch sight of Yuki in his class, I dash out of school, just in time to see him starting his car.

          “Wait!” I jump in front of his car, throwing my arms wide out. Pathetic, I know. But not suicidal. Really. His driver reflexes are amazing. I’ve seen that for myself countless times. Besides, he’s Japanese – he’s got the same blood as the guys who managed to turn drag racing into an art form.

          Yuki’s brakes screech as his car comes to a stop. “Are you crazy?”

          Umm, yeah. Crazy in love with him, but thanks to Akito-san, he’s probably going to take that literally so I don’t say it.

          “We’re still not done talking.” Because we’re not. Because I get it now, and I know what I was supposed to say.

          He stalks out of his car, slamming the door shut with so much force the car actually shakes a little. Looking at him, I remember that song of
Ne-Yo
about how girls look prettier when they’re mad. I wish I could show him Yuki. He’s beautiful, too, when he’s mad – so much it’s heartbreaking.

          Once again, I’ve made us into Immaculate Heart Academy’s sideshow. After today, I’m pretty much sure it’s going to be official now.
I
am going to be the subject of
all
blind news items in the next issue of the Immaculate Heart Tattler.

          “Why won’t you just quit it?”

          Bloody hell.

He’s speaking in Japanese again.

Panic bubbles reform inside me and rises closer and closer to my heart, but I don’t back down. “I still have some things to say.”

 “Stop looking at me like I’ve killed you! I told you to move on. Crying will just make me want to get away from you more.”

“Then just listen---”

“I don’t want to!”

The panic bubbles threaten to explode, and I have to close my eyes for a moment. I try to imagine Yuki and I shagging – no, having
sex.
I need something to keep me sane, something to just take my mind off the fact that everything about Yuki’s telling me he can’t get rid of me quickly enough.

“How clearly do you want me to say it?”

Yuki’s touching my, my – BREASTS. We’re about to FUCK.

Yuki starts shaking me. “Stop fantasizing and listen to me!”

          BREASTS. FUCK. VAGINA. PENIS. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

          “I’m not into you anymore!”

          I blink rapidly, and I don’t stop until the threat of tears retreat.
He’s lying,
I tell myself. He just needs to kick me out of his life because he’s scared I might one day kick him out of mine.

          Staring down at the ground, I say, “I know your parents didn’t exactly give you a good introduction to what relationships are supposed to be. I get that. But we don’t have to be like that. You don’t have to keep substituting sex for love---”

          “Listen to me very closely.” He takes hold of my face.

I struggle against his hold, but of course you can’t go against a god. When my eyes are finally level with his, he says slowly, succinctly, “Stop thinking what we had was
special
.”

          Oh, the bloody bloody irony.

          Something
special
was – is – exactly what I hoped for Yuki and me. Maybe when there’s love, even if it’s one-sided, the two of you do have ESP, the kind that lets you hurt each other the way no one else can.

Yuki’s words make me want to bury my head in the stand, but I don’t. Guys don’t fall in love with ostriches. They fall in love with kick-ass girls who can save them from their own brand of hell. Or at least that’s what my reading history of
shoujo manga
tells me.

“You told me that I remind you too much of Akito-san because I love you.” I draw a breath, all the way from the deepest part of me, because I need all the courage I can get. “I think it’s the opposite. I think you’re scared that because things can get so much b-better between us that I’m going to be like Sascha and you’d be like your dad.”

A familiar mask slips over Yuki’s face, turning it into an exquisitely blank canvas, like a
bishounen
meant for
hentai
instead of a ba-thumping
shoujo manga.

“I think you’re just too scared---”

Yuki curses.

It makes me flinch, but I don’t let it stop me. “You’re just too scared to admit to yourself that…” I take another deep breath and then one more because it’s my first time to say the words out loud. “You don’t want to admit that your parents
fucked
you up.”

I wait for Yuki to explode, but he just smirks. Again. It’s still not cute and cool, and that scares me.

          “Funny you should say that. Because I am leaving to get
fucked
.”

          My head suddenly feels like I’ve puked out my brains and it’s all light and floating. I think I’m in shock. I blink several times. When my gaze clears, I see Yuki getting back to his car.

          “You don’t mean that.” I try to sound confident even though just the thought of Yuki doing it with someone else is enough to send me to my knees. I don’t care about the past, but the present’s different. The present’s mine.

          His fingers clench around the steering wheel. “You’ll just have to wait and see, then.”

          Wait and see?

          “Are you saying it’s someone I know?” Is it Amelia? Do I get a blow-by-blow on Twitter? A sneak pic on Instagram? Is it going to be live on a bloody private channel in YouTube?

          Yuki nods. “The girl who took my video.”

          And then he’s driving away.

Normally…

Normally, what happened earlier is enough to have a girl give up.

          But I’m not normal.

          I’m a girl with a very active imagination when it comes to sex, a girl who turns British when she swears, and most importantly – I’m a girl who can make people fall in love with my drawings.

          Through
shoujo manga,
I’ve seen hundreds of ways a girl’s heart can be broken and hundreds of different ways a guy you love can be such a pain in the arse. The point is, I’ve drawn too many
manga
to give up just like that.

          When I trudge back to school, past the prying eyes and not-so-subtle whispers, I see Lace lounging in the hallway, speaking with one of her boys. She leaves him without a word when she sees me.

          She hands me a Gatorade.

          I take it, unable to help but smile as I uncap the bottle and take several gulps.

          “What?” she asks, defensively.

          I guess this is how she comforts her boys when they’ve been dumped.

          “Nothing. Thanks.”

          “There’s always another day.” She pounds my back heartily.

          I choke on my Gatorade. Sympathetic pats on the back shouldn’t hurt this bad. I guess she’s forgotten I’m
not
really one of her boys.

          “Sorry,” Lace mutters.

          Jace is so much better being a Love Guru than Lace, but I love her so much for trying.

          “I love you, Lace.”

          She stops karate chopping my back, springing away from me like I’m contaminated. “Stop that. It’s gross.”

          I laugh. And then I laugh some more. I feel like it’s my last chance to find something to smile or laugh about so I need to make the most out of it.

          By sixth period, I’ve come up with my last ditch effort to make things up with Yuki. No matter what my dad says, no matter what anyone thinks, and no matter how even Yuki feels – I
know
there’s more to us than just sex.

          And if he had sex this lunch break, it’s going to hurt like hell, but fine.

          I’ll even let that go. But no way will I do it again, not if I get my way and I make him admit he loves me, too.

          Because he does. I know he does. He has to.

          What we have is
special,
never mind how much Yuki wants to deny it.

          Lace’s SMS comes in halfway to seventh period.
They’re in the locker room already.

          I excuse myself from class, muttering I don’t feel well without looking at my Lit professor.          I make my way to the locker room in the fifth floor. The court’s empty and I sit on the steps of one of the staircases leading to the second-floor control room for the sound and light system. Its concrete sides hide me from view, and I have to stand up and peek once in a while just to see who’s coming and going from the locker room.

My plan to get Yuki to talk to me is simple.

I take out my iPhone and start typing.

I’m outside the locker room. We have to talk. If you don’t come out in ten minutes, I’m going right in and come for you.

I re-read my SMS threat before pressing the
Send
button.

Simple, right? A little out of this world, true, but that’s the
mangaka
in me going in overdrive. I’m betting on the fact that it
is
special between us, that he loves me even though he’s been hurting me like a bloody reincarnate version of Marquis de Sade since this morning. I’m betting he loves me so much he’s not going to want me to see the boys in his gym class with their willies out.

          The minutes drag by. My eyes start to get itchy, but I don’t want to blink too many times. I hate how lovesickness has turned me into a brainless chick. Right now, I’m scared that if I blink one time too many, Yuki might end up escaping my clutches. Silly, right? It’s not like he’s got some superhero speed going on.

          The sound of the locker room doors swishing me open puts me in alert mode. I bend halfway over the staircase’s side, but instead of Yuki I see Amelia, withdrawing her head from the locker room. She turns around and adjusts her bra, plumping them like she’s preparing them for a physical.