Chapter 13 (Breslin)
I take a deep breath and clutch the wooden bench I'm sitting on.
It's funny what a memory can do to you. How it can bring back every single feeling and send all of your senses into overdrive.
Even when you think you're prepared for it. You never really are.
Wiping away tears, I close my eyes and root around my purse for my sunglasses, which I'm sure will make some people look at me funny seeing as it's drizzling outside, but I don't care.
It's better than letting these people see me cry.
“Breslin?”
For a moment, I think it's one of my classmates, no doubt wondering why I abruptly walked out of something as beautiful and epic as the Sistine chapel.
I'm relieved when Kit's small hand finds mine and she puts her head on my shoulder.
“How did you know I was here?”
I gave her a copy of my tour schedule but she's never tagged along on any of the tour stops. Since we've been here, all she does is spend her time with Becca and I've hardly seen her.
She shrugs. “Becca's still sleeping off last night at the hotel. I got bored and missed you. Figured I'd meet up with you today. But when I went inside, someone told me you walked out.”
Before I can say a word, she reaches up, plucks my glasses off, and frowns at what I'm sure are my bloodshot eyes. “Him.”
It's not a question, because we both know what him she's talking about.
“He let me paint the ceiling in his bedroom.” I laugh through my tears and although Kit's brows furrow, she urges me to continue.
“I once told him that I wished I was talented enough to paint on someone's ceiling. That I wanted to paint something as beautiful as Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel one day.”
I force myself to breathe. It's not the bad memories that hurt and keep me hanging on, it's all of the good ones that I can't seem to forget.
“The next day he surprised me by setting up paint supplies in his bedroom.”
I hate myself for smiling, but there's no way I can't while recalling this memory. “Then he put me on his shoulders and I actually painted his ceiling.” I bury my face in my hands, my smile growing wider. “God, it was awful and I kept freaking out thinking his mother was going to be pissed at me for ruining his ceiling, but he didn't care. He said he'd keep it up there forever and that when we bought our own house, he wanted me to paint on every ceiling in every single room.”
The tears start falling again, much faster this time. “He made me so happy, Kit. But fuck, he hurt me so much. I just don't understand...I don't understand why I can't get over him.” I point to my chest. “Why this stupid thing insists on hanging on to him and our memories.”
She grips my hand. “Breslin.”
“I want to get over him,” I whisper. “I want him to stop haunting me. I want to be able to give Lan—” I stop, because I can't bring myself to say the words.
“But Asher won't let you, because he came first and there's no room for anyone else,” she finishes for me, and my heart thanks her for saying what I can't.
“Landon is amazing,” I say, stating the obvious. Those butterflies threaten to start swarming but I don't let them. “But I don't want to lead him on. I don’t want to be with him until I'm sure I can give him all of me. It wouldn't be right.”
“I get it.” She stands up and pulls me to my feet. “However, you deserve more than this.”
I shake my head but she presses her finger to my lips. “So, here's what we're going to do.”
Before I can question her, she says, “We have a little over two weeks left on our trip. During the day, you're going to go on your tours and all that jazz. But at night, you're going to party with me.”
When I open my mouth to object she shushes me. “You're going to sleep with hot European boys and dance on bars. You're gonna get drunk, flash your tits to some unsuspecting citizen on the street, and try some marijuana. You're going to live life like it's your last day on earth.”
“How exactly is that supposed to get me over Asher?”
“It's not supposed to get you over him. It will be your way of getting back at him. Why should you spend the rest of your life miserable because of him?” She jabs a finger in my chest. “You're gonna party Asher out of your system. Consider it your personal fuck you to him...because he doesn't get to steal my best friend's sunshine anymore. It's been three years of letting him steal your happy, every damn day...it's time to take your life back.”
I start to shake my head but she grabs me by the shoulders. “Do you want to keep dating Asher Holden? Because the reason you can't start a relationship with anyone else, including Landon, is because you're still in one with him. And I say this with love, Bre—it's time you put your big girl thong on and cut the cord. Because you're only going to end up hanging yourself with it...while he's off making his NFL millions and fucking everything that walks.”
She flips her long blonde hair with now bright green tips and gives me a wink. “I'm making it my mission to make sure you have the time of your life every single night for the next.” She pulls out her phone. “Two weeks and three days.”
When I nod she squeaks and squeezes me. “I can't wait to turn you into a dirty little party whore. I've been waiting for this moment forever.”
My expression must give away my thoughts regarding that statement because she starts laughing hysterically. “Just trust me.”
“I do.”
I take another breath. Maybe letting go for a few weeks and being reckless isn't such a bad thing after all. Because lord knows...I've tried everything else in my power to get over him.
I need to let go of everything that keeps me holding on to nothing. Because that's what Asher is to me now.
Nothing.
It's time I learn to accept it and move on. It's time to start chipping away at Asher so I can make room for the person who actually belongs there.
My chest squeezes when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. A big part of me can't help but hope it's Landon...but a bigger part of me hopes it's not.
Because I'm not sure just how long I'll be able to resist talking to him.
Because I really do miss him. So much it's starting to hurt.
Which is something I'm already used to.