"I'm not feeling it anymore," he said softly, his eyes pleading me to understand.
What a load of crap. He was definitely "feeling it" when we made out in the backseat of his car two days ago. What, did he suddenly have a change of heart in that small span of time?
I wish I could say I handled our breakup with dignity. That I acted cool and unaffected and uncaring of the fact that he didn't want me anymore. But my reaction was the exact opposite. I spent a good ten minutes screaming at him while tears ran down my face. If there was any consolation, Brad looked completely remorseful—and totally freaked out.
Now, I'm at my best friend's house and still bawling my eyes out. I probably look hideous already, what with my makeup all smudged up and running down my face. The large pile of tissues tinged with black on the coffee table practically confirms it.
Freaking Brad.
"I don't get it. Why did he dump you? You're a great catch."
"Right?" I sniffle, blowing snot into the tissue before tossing it on top of the pile.
Allie wrinkles her nose at it then turns back to me. "I mean, you're one of the prettiest girls in school. And popular, too. Did he hit his head while playing lacrosse or something?"
This is what I love most about Allie. She says the right words when I'm at my lowest. She knows how to lift my spirits up.
But it's true. I have one of the prettiest faces in Maple Grove High. I'm not even going to pretend to be humble about it. I'm well aware of my physical attributes.
I have long, silky reddish-brown hair that flows down my back. Naturally thick, curly lashes that frame my hazel eyes. Pink, soft lips with a peaked Cupid's bow, and small dimples on either side.
I wish I could say that I have curves to die for, but they're pretty average. No big boobs and hourglass figure on this girl—just your regular B-cup and slim waist and hips. I have a good height though, standing at five feet and nine inches, and topping at six feet with high heels on.
All in all, I'm happy and confident with the way I look.
But back to the real issue—Brad and I were good together. We rarely fought. There was little to no drama in our relationship. And I always made sure to be a supportive girlfriend. If there was a lacrosse game, I would be there to watch. If he wanted to go to some party, I was right there with him. And whenever he had a problem—like a difficult homework—I always provided help.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was great.
Which is why I'm completely stumped that he broke up with me. Had I been too demanding? Or maybe he found my kissing skills subpar? But he always complimented me for being an excellent kisser. But what did I really know? He dumped me.
"I gotta say, Red, this is the prettiest I’ve ever seen you," comes an amused male voice that makes me stiffen.
I lift my eyes and see Grayson, Allie's older brother, smirking down at me.
"Shut up," I snap, uncaring that he's seeing me looking like a raccoon. It’s just Gray.
I’ve known the guy since I was, like, five. I’ve seen him run around the playground naked, chasing girls and making them scream by showing them his tiny-size dick. I’ve seen him plucking booger from his nose. And I’ve unwillingly smelled his disgusting farts every time he farted in front of my and Allie’s faces back when he was at the obnoxious ages of eleven to thirteen.
He’s different from any other guys I've met. He's the one guy I’ll never be self-conscious with.
But I digress.
Because here’s the thing about Grayson Turner: he’s a senior like Brad and a year older than me and Allie. And again, like Brad, he plays lacrosse. In fact, he’s the captain of the team—which makes him the most popular guy in school. The title, which I know, my ex has always wanted for himself.
He’s also extremely hot. Right now, he’s in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his thick, light brown hair damp like he just came out of the shower. Which is probably the case since I can smell the clean, cool scent of his shampoo from where I’m sitting.
Which does nothing to me because, again, it’s just Gray.
His deep green eyes flash a tad sympathetic as he stares at me. "Sorry to hear about McNeely.”
I freeze. What the hell? How did he know about that? It’s only been hours since the breakup.
“How did you find out?” Allie demands, beating me to it.
Gray cocks an eyebrow. "You two haven’t seen it yet? He already changed his status to ‘single’ on Facebook."
I gape. Is Brad for freaking real? "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope," Gray says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.
Glad to see he finds amusement in my heartbreak.
"What a jerk!" Allie exclaims, eyes flared wide in disbelief.
I ball my fists on my lap. How could he do this? Was dumping me unceremoniously not enough, and he had to announce it to the whole world? It hasn’t even been a day. The asshole didn’t bother to wait. And the news should’ve come from me, damn him. Now, everyone knows he was the one who initiated our breakup.
"Rat bastard.” I angrily wipe the fresh set of tears rolling down my cheeks.
Allie narrows her eyes into slits. "We should get him for this.” She snaps her fingers. “I have an idea. Why don’t we egg his house or, hell, his car? He loves that damn thing, doesn’t he?”
“Lame,” Gray snorts.
Allie and I glare at her brother.
“Do you have another idea?” she snaps.
Gray’s lips twist into a smirk. “Course I do, baby sis. And it doesn’t take rocket science,” he gloats. “Everyone knows that if someone dumps you, the best thing you can do
