Breaking the Heartbreaker

Breaking the Heartbreaker

Chapter 1: Meeting Mr. Player

            He’s tall, has amazing eyes, smells amazing, and gives the best hugs. I didn’t say a name, but you were thinking of someone the whole time, am I correct? For most of the girls that attend Richfield High School, Trevor Webb was the poster boy of that quote. He was tall, handsome with a chiseled chin and gorgeous green blue eyes, an olive skin tone, and the body of a Greek God. He belonged in a magazine. But with the killer looks, comes the player personality. That is something Trevor did not lack at all. In fact, he practically believed he was God’s gift to women. But not once I’m done with him. I’m about to whip this boy into shape. I’m about to break the heartbreaker.

            The alarm clock sounded, smacking a hand toward it as I groaned, I sprawled out of bed. Taking my long caramel brown hair out of the messy bun that had rested on top of my head the whole night; I opened my curtains to let some light into my violet room. It was bright and looked fairly warm out; a perfect September day in Swedesboro, New Jersey. It was a whole new school year, and I knew absolutely no one. Attending Richfield high school as a junior with a class size of eight hundred, I’m bound to make one friend, I reassured myself.

            Dragging my feet against the plush white carpet, I grabbed the outfit I had planned out: a peach three quarter top with a white lacey tank top underneath, white jean shorts with spandex underneath so it didn’t violate the dress code, and silver Toms.

            Stripping off my oversized Twin Cities tee, and basketball shorts, I remembered when I got that tee. It was last summer when I still lived in Minnesota. Me and my friends from back home; Emma, Sophia, Dylon and I, had all gone to the Mall of America to celebrate Emma’s 17th birthday. We went on a huge shopping spree and I had made my friends stop at a secondhand vintage store with me on the way back home, which is where I found the navy blue shirt. My family had never had a ton of money, so I was always searching for the best deals.

            The shirt had a ton of meaning to me, still. It was the only thing I had left of home. All my old friends started rumors about me and started calling me a skank, which is why I moved, but beside the point, that shirt was the only thing I had left of what I used to know. Everything is so unfamiliar here. The move was terrifying, my parents calling me into the kitchen to announce some “news” they had for me, after I had come home crying for the third week straight.

            “Honey, you’re moving. All of this trauma is unhealthy for such a young girl.” My mom had said.

            “Wait, I’m moving?” I had squeaked out. Then she turned to my step-dad, Ryan, giving his hand a small squeeze, while nodding at me. She informed me I would be living with my aunt Karen in New Jersey, for junior year, seeing how I liked it here.

            My phone making a little beep snapped me out of my thoughts. I scooped it up and drew the unlock pattern.

MOM: Have a GREAT first day I love you sweetheart! J

            Typing a quick “thank you” I threw my phone back onto my bed and turned my flat iron on. I unzipped the flower makeup bag my mom had given me before I left. Going through the contents of the bag, I found my liquid foundation and smeared a little on my face with my hands as I blended it out. I still had most of my summer tan, which set off my hazel eyes and the flicks of blonde highlights in my brown hair. They always call the pretty girls the skanks, is what my Aunt Karen told me, smiling.