Promises Hurt

“He doesn’t do exclusivity. You should know that. Everyone does, I’m the closest he’s gotten to a relationship and when he’s finished toying around with you he’ll be back. He always comes back.” She’s smiling at me and it's sickly sweet.

 

I’ve never been in a fight before but I can see that changing real fast; I want to rip this girl’s head off. But it's not me—I’m the quiet one, I run from awkward situations and that’s what I’m about to do until she lets out a satisfied little laugh. Like she knows she’s just upset me and she’s won.

 

“I’m sorry, can you die from constipation?” She gives me a blank look and I continue. “I’m just a little concerned about how full of shit you are. There is no way in hell he’ll be going near you again.”

 

I’m so mad I can feel heat radiating off of me as I clench my fists at my side, trying to stay calm. I stand and make to move past her when she grabs my arm and gets in my face.

 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I know Ethan a whole lot better than you think. I bet he doesn’t even call you by your name when you're screwing, does he? Let me guess, he calls you ‘babe’ or ‘doll’ or another pet name you probably think is fucking adorable. Wanna know why? Because that way he doesn’t have to remember your name, sweetheart, especially when he’s thinking about someone else.”

 

I can feel my eyes starting to sting with the tears that I’d rather die than let this bitch see fall.

 

“You’re pathetic,” I practically spit, shrugging out of her hold. But there’s no fire behind my words this time because I’m the one who feels pathetic. He calls me ‘princess’ and I loved it up until two seconds ago. I feel sick and I feel stupid. A leopard doesn’t change its spots; I’m a smart girl, I should know this.

 

“No, honey, you're the pathetic one thinking you had anything with him. You do know he calls you the ‘tutor nerd’ to his friends, right? Doesn’t sound like a guy in love to me.”

 

I take a deep breath and barge my way past her, weaving in and out of the tables. I reach the exit doors and look back just in time to see the look of confusion cross Ethan’s face as he notices me about to leave. I don’t mean to make eye contact but I do and it feels like someone has punched me in the stomach and ripped my heart out. He’s a singer and guitarist in a band. Mr. Popularity and me…I’m nobody. What was I thinking? I’m grateful that I haven’t slept with him yet.

 

The band is still playing and Ethan’s singing, but he knows something’s wrong, he can see it written all over me. My poker face officially sucks. He stops singing mid-song, pulls his guitar strap over his head and places it down on the stage. There’s confusion on everyone’s faces as they wonder what the fuck he’s doing, Drew picks up where Ethan left off and the guys carry on but I can hear a man shouting his name. I spin and push the doors open and break into a run across the parking lot. I don’t want him to catch up to me, I don’t want him to see me cry; in fact, right now I don’t want to see him ever again.

 

I reach the end of the lot just as I hear my name echo through the quiet. I don’t stop, though. I run past a few more vehicles and head for my car. I grab the door handle just as he catches me and cages me against the door with his arms.

 

“What’s happened, what’s wrong?” he’s out of breath and his eyes are frantically searching my face.

 

“Move, Ethan.”

 

“What…no, Princess, what’s wrong? Why ar—”

 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” I attempt to push him back from me but he stays where he is, like a mountain of steel that I couldn’t move if my life depended on it.

 

I can’t hold back anymore and I feel hot tears spill onto my cheeks. He pulls back slightly but grabs onto my shoulders, there’s panic written across his absurdly pretty face.

 

“Fuck Blair, tell me what happened.”

 

“Why don’t you go ask Della Fucking Fields!” I sob and I hate that he’s seeing this. I hate that I’m being weak and can’t confront him about this without him knowing how much pain I’m in.

 

“I don’t want to ask her anything, I’m asking you.”

 

“Fine.” I straighten my back and stand tall. “Where do I start? Oh yeah, that’s right…she told me why you call me Princess, the same reason you call everyone you hook up with babe or whatever, so you don’t have to remember their names.” I pause for a beat to see his reaction but he just stands looking blankly at me so I continue. “But you don’t just call me ‘Princess’, do you asshole? No, you call me the ‘tutor nerd’ to all your friends. God I’m a fucking idiot, I knew yo—”