Bad Romance

Because I don’t know what to say.


“That’s it.” Nat holds up her phone. “I’m calling.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. “I’m going, Natalie. Stop.” You take one last look at Gideon. “Stay away from her.”

Gideon’s lip turns up. “I think it’d be better for all concerned if you stayed away from her.”

Peter and Kyle drag you away, but not before you fix me with the angriest, most vile glare, the bat still clutched in your hand.

Gideon barely waits for you to leave before he pulls me against him. Everyone’s watching but I don’t care and he doesn’t, either.

“He’s psychotic,” Gideon says. “I mean, clinically. End it. You deserve better.”

Maybe better, but not Gideon. He’s good—kind, pure. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend. Me? I can’t even count how many blowjobs I’ve given the guy who just threatened to bash Gideon’s head in with a baseball bat.

I feel so used up and empty, and this well of sadness that’s opening up in me is getting deeper every second.

“Grace,” Gideon says in that soft, kind way of his, “you have no idea how great you are. Just trust me, okay? You’ve got to break up with him.”

I finally nod because I want to trust him. So much. “Okay.”

The words fall out of my mouth and they taste like something spicy, waking me up.

He pulls away enough to look at me. “Really?”

“Yes. I’ll do it. Tomorrow.”

Gideon wipes the tears from my eyes and he can’t hide the smile on his face. It’s the kind of thing that you could see from miles away.

“Does that mean I get to kiss you for real?” he says. I laugh-sob and he puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Something in me releases. I can do this. I sigh and lean against Gideon. We stay like that until it’s time to go.

Grace—

I’m not mad. I promise. I knew you breaking up with him was a long shot. Although I have taken to reciting the Duke’s opening lines from Twelfth Night. Do you remember us in Oregon, sitting next to each other during the show? You smelled like grapefruit and I was sorely tempted to lick your cheek, just to see if you tasted like you smelled.

If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again! It had a dying fall:

O, it come o’er my ear like the sweet sound,

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odor!

Enough; no more:

’Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

I miss you, Grace. I don’t want to lose your friendship. Stop avoiding me, eh? I promise I won’t quote any more Shakespeare. It’s just two a.m. and I can’t sleep and I … I don’t want to make all this harder on you than it already is. Anyway. Friends?

G.

hey baby—

I recorded this song for you. it’s going on the LP! have a listen. it’s all acoustic, just like you always want. can’t wait to see you at the show tonight. i love you more than life.



Grace

I know I’m not perfect

But I’ll sure as hell try

Just give me one more chance

To prove that I’m your guy

You’re my saving Grace

You’re my saving Grace

This love doesn’t grow on trees

But I’ll get down on bended knee

To prove my love to you

To prove I want you—only you

You’re my saving Grace

You’re my saving Grace

Baby, come closer now

Don’t give up on me

We’re so close to everything we want

We’re so close to everything we need

You’re my saving Grace

You’re my saving Grace

I need you

I want you

I love you

You’re my saving Grace

You’re my saving …

Grace



Dear Ms. Carter:

On behalf of the University of Southern California, I’m delighted to invite you to join us next Fall to continue your academic career. Out of hundreds of applicants, you were one of the few students that have been chosen for our prestigious School of Dramatic Arts. You will soon receive a packet in the mail with more information. Congratulations and welcome to the Trojan Family!

Fight on,

Eleanor Hopkins

Dean

USC School of Dramatic Arts



Racy Gracie!

Your BFF Nat here. Look, I know things are crazy right now with boys. You know which one I’m rooting for. But—and I know this is going to sound insane—they’re just BOYS. You’re not going to marry either one of them, I PROMISE. I know this for a fact because I heard a rumor that a certain Calvin Klein underwear model is MADLY in love with you and wants you to have his babies. Shhh, don’t tell.

I miss you, my dear friend. It’s been weeks since we’ve hung out just the three of us (and, coincidentally, three weeks since The Bat Incident). We’re supposed to be having senior year fun times, remember? It’s almost MAY! Don’t push everyone that loves you away, okay?

Because you can try, but we’re not going ANYWHERE. (I mean that totally literally because this town freaking sucks, so, like, where could we even go—the water tower?).

I Lovvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeee Youuuuuuuuuu— Nat



grace |grās|

noun

1.?simple elegance or refinement of movement: she moved across the stage with effortless grace.

???courteous goodwill: at least she has the grace to agree Radiohead is the best band ever.

???(graces) an attractively polite manner of behaving: she exhibits all the social graces when directing a play (except when Peter doesn’t learn his lines).

2.?(in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings. You deserve all the grace in the world.

???a divinely given talent or blessing: she has the graces of Dionysus, god of theatre.

???the condition or fact of being favored by someone: you can never fall from grace with me—no matter how hard you try.

3.?(also grace period) a period officially allowed for payment of a sum due or for compliance with a law or condition, esp. an extended period granted as a special favor: my feelings are getting stronger for you during this grace period.

You’re one of my most profound friends and a wonderful person with a beautiful soul. Whatever happens, don’t forget that.

G.

grace—

my therapist told me it’d be a good idea to write you a letter, to tell you everything I’m feeling. at first, I was, like, fuck that, but then I started thinking about everything and realized, yeah, I have to get some stuff off my chest. I mean, I’m seeing this therapist and taking fucking meds for you. do you even appreciate that? pretty shitty that you basically coerced me into going, saying it was the only reason you’d stay with me, which, by the way, was a lot to ask of me after what you did.

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