Childhood Lovers

Childhood Lovers. 30

*4 MONTHS LATER*

Life back in Connecticut dragged on slowly. Everything felt different, even though nothing had really changed.

Running out, disobeying my parents, and using their credit card number to pay for my plane ticket back home earned me two months of grounding. And despite all the nights I spent at home, laying around, staring at the ceiling, not once did they bring up California. They knew better than to.

Sometimes at night, I could hear my mother’s voice through my bedroom wall when she was talking to Rebecca on the phone. Most times, I tuned out my mother’s side of the conversation, knowing it was better to just block that part of my life out. But on rare occasion, I would indulge and take a listen, waiting for my mother to say, “I’m glad to hear everything’s going well.”

Everyday was a blur. In the morning, I could barely get out of bed. During the school day, I couldn’t focus. When I got home, I locked myself in my room, laid on my bed, and stared out the window.

A few weeks after school started, my parents addressed their concerns about me. When they brought it up, they deliberately avoided any reference to the summer. Instead, they attacked my recently adapted attitude. When they recommended I see a shrink, I got up, walked up the stairs, and slammed my bedroom door. I couldn’t blame them for that – they didn’t know that the reason I broke up with him was because he needed therapy – but still the wound had been opened, and the pain was uncontrollably pouring out of me.

Since that day, I always questioned if I was the one that truly needed the psychological help. Was it normal to let a break up affect me this much? Was I emotionally stable? Maybe I was a hypocrite. Maybe I should have taken a look in the mirror before making the biggest mistake of my life.

But the damage had been done, and I had to live with the consequences.

As for my friends, they tried their best to understand. They tried their best to be sympathetic towards me, even though they didn’t know why to be. They tried to their best to accept my new behavior, although they didn’t know what had caused me to change.

As the days, weeks, months went on, the pain started to numb. The hot, burning pain that I felt turned into icy, cold emptiness.

One, chilly, December day after school, the unexpected happened.

After the last period bell rang, I slugged on my backpack, buttoned up my coat, and walked out the school’s front doors. The sky was darkly grey, emitting an ugly haze around the environment. But through the fog, I saw him.

He stood there on the other side of the road, perfectly healthy, leaning against the side of his newly refurbished black jeep that was parked on the curb. His blonde hair was darker and shorter, his tan had faded, and his summer beach clothes were replaced by winter attire.

Every emotion inside of me flipped, causing a mental catastrophe. I was covered in sweat and in goose-bumps. I was filled with pain and pleasure, anger and happiness, sadness and gladness. 

What should I do? What should I say? How should I possibly feel?

My body felt like it was being torn into a million pieces, as my world came crashing down.

Finally, I got my locked, brittle legs to move me forward. I approached him ever so slightly, keeping my distance. My limbs tensed up as I forced myself to stay calm.

“Hayden . . .” he said, with relief in his voice. When he said my name, it felt so foreign, that I didn’t even respond to it. My mind didn’t recognize my name when he said it. He stared at me for a moment, just waiting. But I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t respond how he wanted me to. Eventually, he said, “You look good.”

My cheeks burned with fury. How could he say that to me? That I look good after he made my life a living hell? Suddenly, I was reminded of the cruel reality – he didn’t do this to me, I did this to myself.

“You too,” I croaked, hit with the world’s weight.

He moved forward, wrapping his arms around my motionless body. I didn’t stop him. I let his warmth fill me up, to the point where I closed my eyes and forgot about everything. I let his hug bring me back to the first hug we shared seven months ago, back when I first arrived at the airport. I was reminded of how good it felt to be back in his arms. My arms gently wrapped around his broad waist.

“Losing you . . . was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me,” he whispered, before pressing his soft lips into mine.

That kiss was all I needed to be reminded of what we shared. Love was something powerful, something that could overcome any distance, any struggle, any problem, and any obstacle. To deny love when found was a crime in itself.

When we broke apart, I noticed that the sun’s light had beaten through the dark, gloomy sky. 

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THE END!

wow guys, I cannot explain the emotions right now. The story is finished, with is a bittersweet feeling. You guys have been the greatest fans a girl could ever ask for! I really hope you guys have enjoyed the story. Please check out the next book in the series, Rebellious Lovers, which will focus on a new couple. I'll be starting it as soon as I can. And check out my other story "leather kisses" well lots of love!! and please continue your support for me as a writer!