One month.

One month of wishing I were dead, telling myself I was better off without him, crying myself to sleep, and then repeating the entire damning cycle the next day.

It was torture.

Spending the past two weeks in Los Angeles visiting my mother's side of the extended family had been something I had assumed would take my mind off of it, but that was far from the case.

My mother's cousins lived in a large and luxurious house not unlike our own in Houston, so there were plenty of rooms for me to go off and sulk in. And since Vera and Jared had decided to not come along for the family vacation and instead stay in Texas for work and school, I had no one to talk to except for the spoiled rotten brats living in this house that were around my age.

So instead, I had resorted to binge watching Netflix and eating my weight in ice cream.

This breakup had been so much different than the previous ones. The other ones I had seen a future with, in a small-minded and naive way. I had just assumed we would end up together because that's what was supposed to happen; you date and get married. Or at least that's what my dating-deprived mind had always figured.

And then Andrew had come along, and I could see a real future with him. A future where we go off to school together before becoming functioning adults with jobs and incomes. A future where after becoming said functional adults, he would get down on one knee and propose to me, hopefully somewhere not too cheesy, but a tad bit cheesy. I would say yes, and we would have the most marvelous wedding. It was be over-the-top and extravagant, since my parents wouldn't have any problem in the monetary department.

After that extravagant wedding, we would go on a month-long honeymoon to a tropical island that would service our every need as we just became lost in how in love we were. After that honeymoon we would return to our functioning adult lives and in a few years we would have a kid, maybe more than one. And we would raise them in the best way; not spoiling them but not letting them starve either. And then we would ship the youngest one off to college and live our lives together, growing old and never ceasing to love each other.

That was the future for us that I envisioned. The future that I sorely wanted with him.

But he was just like the other ones.

I had dumped him in that car ride. That disgusting car ride where we had to drive two hours back home in utter silence. That text had been the last straw; he had gotten away with his lies back in Houston, where no one knew him, but he couldn't do it when he got back home to his family and friends who knew him all too well.

I had dumped him and he had put up a fight at first. He had argued that his buddies were just messing with him, that they didn't know what they were talking about. But I wasn't having it. I couldn't take being lied to again.

I'm sure George got a strict lecture after I had hopped out of the car and ran up to my house about texting while I was around.

And now here I was, lounging around in a house that was far too big to only be occupied by four people who hardly ever seemed to be home, wishing that I was even further away from the drama and heartbreak of Texas.

As I let Netflix know that I was indeed still watching Gilmore Girls, my phone rang.

I picked it up without checking the Caller ID, since only one person ever called me.

"Hey Jess."

"Hey Sam. Anything new?"

"Besides my uncanny ability to attract terrible guys and my constant desire to be dead? Not so much."

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