The Heartbreakers' Rule Set

Chapter One

As usual, the cafeteria is overcrowded, noisy, and the perfect place to pick a victim.

"You've got that look again," Emma complains. "That look that automatically means you're searching for prey. It reminds me of a lion. A popular, well-dressed lion."

"Well, the difference between a lion and me is that I'm not interested in the weak and sickly," I reply. A slightly wicked grin curves across my face as I notice the wrinkles of Emma's scowl.

"You know, this would be easier if you could actually settle down with a guy for more than a few weeks at the maximum," she lectures me. Groaning, I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat. If I could tell Emma the real reason behind my seemingly random dance through the male population, she would understand. Of course, that's not an option.

Heartbreaker Rule Number Six: The bet is confidential information in all situations.

"What do you think of Brandon?" I inquire, cutting off Emma's familiar tirade against my so-called antics.

"Ericson? Didn't you date him freshman year?" she responds. Narrowing my eyes, I struggle to recall the relationship in question.

"No, that was Brandon Irving. I'm sure of it. How could I forget that nasty acne?" Emma and I share a smirk at his misfortune. "Anyway, that's perfect, because you know my rule. NO repeats," I declare. Well, not exactly MY rule. But a Heartbreaker Rule is a rule.

Heartbreaker Rule Number Two: Once a heart is broken, it cannot be broken again.

"Brandon will be a suitable homecoming accessory," I conclude.

"If he lasts that long," Emma mutters. Choosing to ignore her comment, I search for a different type of target: Ethan, my current-yet-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. Once I've found him, I stand and shoulder my bag.

"Talk to you in art, Em. Right now, I have a heart to break," I tell her, cracking my knuckles as I head over to his table. She calls a response after me, but I can't make it out over the din of the cafeteria.

"Hey, Ali!" Ethan greets me, pulling me onto his lap. A few of the guys around him shift uncomfortably, probably suspecting what I'm about to do. I'm relatively sure that some of them have experienced it firsthand.

"Babe, we need to talk," I murmur in his ear. His face falls. Though I know he's head over heels for me, I'm also sure that he's well aware of my reputation. Together, we make our way out of the cafeteria and end up in a secluded hallway. On the way, I surreptitiously open a recording app on my phone and press a small red button. Seconds start ticking and I slip my phone back into my pocket.

Once we reach the end of the hall, Ethan turns to face me. His glare foreshadows his next words, and I wince in anticipation.

"Just say it, Ali. I know you're breaking up with me," Ethan challenges. His words are meant to show that he doesn't care about me or what I do, but the level of pain in his voice betrays him.

"Ethan, I'm sorry. It's not you; it's me," I tell him. I'm not sure if he can detect the hint of bitterness in my voice. Every so often, I find myself wishing for the ability to have a normal relationship. Even though Ethan isn't necessarily the one I would choose, it would be nice to at least have the choice.

Heartbreaker Rule Number Seven: Any signs of distress in a relationship on the part of a Heartbreaker will result in disqualification.

Yet another Heartbreaker rule that dominates my life. Inwardly, I sigh and prepare myself for the usual barrage of insults.

"You know what, Ali? It is you. I don't know what it is about you, but you can't stick to anything. Or anyone, for that matter. You had my heart," his voice cracks. I struggle to place my facial features in an expression between detachment and sympathy. "I thought we could be different. But I'm just another guy to you, isn't that right? Well, guess what? You're just another spiteful bitch with too many slut genes," he spits the words at me. Again, the emotion behind his words shows his true feelings when his rant ends in a sob. As I stand motionlessly, unable to defend myself, he shoves past me and makes his way back toward the cafeteria. Once I'm sure he's out of sight, I slip my phone out of my pocket and press the button to stop recording. Grimly, I title it "HB #12" to symbolize my twelfth recorded heartbreak and save it. Of course there are more, but those involve different kinds of proof.

Heartbreaker Rule Number Three: There must be undeniable proof of dating. In addition, there must be proof of a broken heart, not just a breakup. Examples include unbiased witnesses, screenshots of text conversations, and/or recorded face-to-face or telephone conversation.

"Also, slut isn't a gene," I mutter sullenly as I reenter the cafeteria. Immediately, Emma spots me and waves me over wearing a look of resigned disapproval. Before I can join her, another set of eyes catch mine from across the cafeteria. The eyes are deep green and unblinking, meeting my stare and holding it. To be more specific, they belong to Asher Evans, our football team's devastatingly handsome captain. After a few moments, he turns back to the clichéd horde of girls surrounding him.

For those few moments, though, I feel a connection I haven't felt in years. I know why you just broke up with your twenty-third boy in this high school, his gaze confessed. And I know why you just finished up with your twenty-fourth girl, mine admitted. I kept my eyes on him for a few seconds longer, lingering on his dark, mussed hair and honeyed skin. His thin blue t-shirt was practically tailored to fit his lanky body and still show off the muscles that shifted every time he went to flirt with another girl. Not that I was admiring, simply observing.

I shook off any clinging thoughts of Ash as I started towards Emma, but the bell rang just then, so I figured I would make good on my promise to talk with her in art and, in the meantime, work on seducing my future boy toy.