1.2 | Breakup Formula | ONGOING

03 | mistake

"Listen, I know you said not to call you ever again, but please, just hear me out, don't cut me off, just listen."

The voice was vaguely familiar, and as my mind gradually cleared, I came to realise that it wasn't just anybody on the other end of the line. It was Joey, and he had dialled my number by accident. He thought he was talking to Fiona.

"I-I don't know what I've done wrong. But I know I fucked up," he continued. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. "And I know you'd always expected it from me. I'm a massive screw-up, I've toyed with the feelings of so many girls and broken their hearts. But that was all before I met you. And you need that I love you."

My heart constricted. And my head replayed his words over and over again.

"I miss you so damned much. I try to close my eyes every night and all I see is your face. I hear your voice in my head even when the speakers are on. So please, I - " His voice broke. " - I just want to hear your voice one last time. Just say something - if you haven't given up on me. Or on us. Just give me a sentence, a word. Something."

I inhaled shakily, and it took all of my willpower to keep silent. I needed to tell him I was Kira, not Fiona; that I wasn't the one he was looking for. But I knew for a fact that words had a way of giving hope no other force in the world could.

"I love you," I whispered. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to continue, "But you need to move on. You need to forget about me."

I ended the call before he could even reply, and pressed my cell to my chest. Just when I thought I'd gotten over the pain, it came back again, like a hundred feet wall that crashed right into me.

And Joey could not fix me just as I could not fix him, and maybe there was no viable way of fixing a broken heart. Maybe you just had to keep living in tiny fragments that can never be pieced back together.

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It was difficult to meet Joey again and pretend that nothing was wrong. Instead, I went back to work the following day, arriving a good fifteen minutes before my shift began. I was in the corner booth that morning, stacking up a pile of plates with great care, when the doorbell gave a tiny jingle.

I was startled when a hand snuck out to take the plates from me. Turning around, I found myself face to face with Joey. Forcing a bright smile on my face, I said in the most nonchalant tone I could possibly muster, "Hey, Joey. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

He shifted away when I tried to take the dishes back from him. "So what time do you get off your shift?"

"About two. After the lunch crowd leaves."

"If I help, will you be able to leave earlier?"

I found myself smiling at his innocent question. " I don't think it's going to make much of a difference."

"I'm sure something can be arranged," he returned briskly, before setting the plates down. Placing his palms flat against the counter top, he made as though to leap over it, and I quickly tightened my grip around his arm.

"Go around the counter, please."

"What a drag," he muttered, crossly, but went around all the same.

I watched as he headed into the kitchen. And it took me a good ten seconds to realise that I'd basically given him permission to go into a place that was solely reserved for workers.

But before I could rush in to drag Joey out of the kitchen, the customer in the corner booth signalled me over. By the time I got back, Joey was out of the kitchen, a disgruntled expression on his face. An apron was wrapped loosely around his waist, pen and notepad in his hands.

"Did Mikel kick you out?" I asked, my voice sympathetic as I stifled the urge to smile.

He scowled, knowing full well I was simply teasing him. "He talked me into working here. Before I knew it, he was tying the bloody apron around me!"

I chuckled, and immediately stopped when Joey shot me another deadly glare. "You know, if you don't want to work, just tell him that," I pointed out, simply, "He was probably just having some fun with you, Mikel's like that all the time."

"Well, I can't," he returned, rather cryptically, and I frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because you're here," he said, flatly. "I'm utterly serious about getting over Fiona, and I need your help. It's difficult - yes, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get over her, even if it means being stuck here with you."

A contrite, sincere Joey was rather interesting to watch and, stifling a smile, I turned away, busying myself with the cash register.

"You said it was going to be fine," he continued, when I didn't reply, "You promised."

His tone was akin to that of a boy who didn't get his way, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. But there was something else that was worrisome - it was the fact that he expected something of me. He needed to get over his breakup. And while I had promised Declan and Eloise that I'd help, I had no idea where to start.

"Kira."

Or maybe I did.

"Alright," I said, slowly, turning round to face him. "Let's begin."