Cause you were never mine...

Chapter 9

*Last May*

"Betty, please," I begged.

Her cold blue eyes stared daggers into mine. The soul I once found beautiful couldn't have cared less about me.

"It's not going to happen, James. We're done." She turned and walked further down our school hallway. I ran to catch up with her swift footsteps. I knew she hated me, but I needed to give it another shot. I grabbed her soft hand in mine and spun her to face me. I must've looked pathetic, but getting her back was all that mattered.

"Betty, we can make this work," I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

"James," she began. "We can't." I longed to pull her closer to me, to tell her everything would be okay, but she had made her choice.

"This is your fault," she told me.

"Me?" I recoiled in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, James."

Maybe this is my fault, I thought.

"Betty, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'll make myself into someone you can love."

I saw her eyes soften for only a second and she wrapped her hands around my neck, drawing me to her and kissing me softly on the lips. I leaned into her touch, breathing in her perfume. I'd do anything to have her in my arms, even if it was only for a minute. Betty pulled away and I looked at her hopefully.

"It's not there, James. You're not her."

*Present Day*

My face burned as I clutched my phone and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. I couldn't believe she had texted me. I glanced at my phone again to see "Betty" written across the screen. I wasn't imagining it. My stomach flipped in my chest, and I quickly walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sitting on the smooth, sand-coloured countertop, I found the courage to open the message. I clicked on it and my phone opened to a new text chain with her.

Hi.

That's it? I thought. I was about to click my phone off when another text came through.

You're probably wondering why I've texted you. I don't know, I guess with everything that's happened with us, I just wanted someone to talk to. Anyways, I hope you've been doing well. I haven't. Things didn't work out with, well, you know. If you want to chat, let me know. I miss you, James.

-Betty (in case you deleted my number) <3

I froze.

Well, fuck.

I picked up my phone, ready to throw it against the wall. I'd spent the last three months doing everything to get this girl out of my head, to accept that she'd never feel the same way I felt about her.

But here she was, trying to insert herself back into my life after breaking my heart, after everything I did to try and get over her. I put my phone down beside me and let my head rest on my knees. A few tears slipped down my cheeks as I remembered the way she treated me. Lying, ignoring me, then coming back. I was grateful for any attention I received.

A soft knock came at the door.

"James?" said a tentative voice.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah?" I answered, my voice wobbling.

"Can I come in?"

"The door's unlocked."

The knob turned and Augustine walked in, looking as beautiful as ever. I was stupid to think she'd ever like me. I didn't care if she saw me crying. She never liked me anyways.

She froze when she saw my tears.

"I'm so sorry, James," she whispered.

"For what?" I snapped, regretting my tones when she recoiled in surprise.

"Who texted you?" she asked softly, ignoring my harsh tone.

"It's nothing," I told her.

"C'mon, James," she said, reaching for my hand.

I took it and hopped down from the counter. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were a little bit puffy, but otherwise I looked normal. Still holding my hand, Augustine took me down the hall and up the stairs. I froze when we stopped at her bedroom door.

"What's going on?" I asked tentatively.

"God, James, how dirty minded are you?" she laughed. "I just want to chat."

Her laugh was all I needed to be convinced. I wanted to tell her she couldn't treat me this way, but something about her pulled me in. I stepped inside her room and took in all the writing she had placed on her wall. I didn't get to look at it last time, but now I let my eyes trace over all the calligraphy and scenes from stories or movies decorated across her room.

Augustine took a seat on her bed and stared at me. I sat at her desk chair and waited for her to speak.

"So," she began. "What's going on?"

"Why should I tell you?" I responded.

The curiousness in her eyes switched to hurt, and I instantly regretted what I said. She may not have been into me, but that was no reason to be rude.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It's this, uh, girl. She hurt me last year and now she's texting me wanting to chat. I wouldn't have cried, but whatever. She was kind of awful, but I really did care for her." My face burned with embarrassment at my own words, but I figured I had nothing to lose. I had no chance with the girl in front of me; I didn't care about spewing my past to her.

"James, that's terrible, I'm so sorry," Augustine said softly. "There's no way she's a good person if she let you go."

I smiled at her words. "Thanks."

She blushed, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of red. She sat cross-legged in that gorgeous purple dress of hers, looking around her room. I felt a surge of courage and got up from her desk chair, crossing the room to meet her. I sat down on the bed next to her, while a look of surprise took over her face.

"You know what I don't get?" I began, "You were so nice to me. Then we hung out and you completely rejected me. Then avoided me for three days. You wouldn't speak to me all night, and now you're getting me to talk about my feelings and blushing at my words. What's going on?"

Her eyes finally flicked towards mine, and I waited patiently for her reply.

"James, I don't know what to say," she started. "I messed up, I guess. I truly do like you. I just, I thought you were this perfect, innocent person who'd never talked to a girl before and I was worried if anything happened, I'd hurt you. I can't deal with that kind of guilt. I've had people run away from me before. I'm not going to be that kind of person."

I let her words register. She said she liked me. I tried to hide a smile with my next words, leaning closer to her, letting her deep brown eyes capture me.

"Now that you know I'm not perfect," I said. "What do you think of me?"

"I think you're the most interesting person I've ever met," she whispered.

That wasn't what I was hoping for, but I'd take it. I could sense she was shy, and I placed my hand in hers, tracing the lines in the palm of her hand. She sent me a small smile and pulled her hand away, standing up on the floor.

I got the message; this was going to take some time, but I'd wait for her. The text from Betty was pushed to the back of my mind and I stood up beside Augustine, admiring the soft curls of her hair. I stepped away and walked to the opposite wall, glancing at all the writing taped to it. Quotes, poems, and lyrics were everywhere. I stepped closer to read a few of them.

"Would you tell me to go fuck myself or lead me to the garden?"

"Something about it felt like home somehow"

"I was walking home on broken cobblestones"

I assumed those were lyrics. A poem caught my eye, and I leaned closer, seeing it written in cursive.

I thought you loved me

Never gave me a chance

Every step I took forward

Zoning out, you stepped back

My eyes flickered to the next one. Lyrics again.

"Maybe I got lost in translation,

Maybe I asked for too much,

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece,

Until you tore it all up"

Augustine cleared her throat. I turned around to see her arms crossed while she stared at me. She tried to look intimidating, but it only made her more adorable.

"I'm sorry," I grinned sheepishly. "I should've asked before reading everything."

"It's fine," she shrugged. "It wouldn't be up there if I wanted it hidden. Most of those are lyrics." She gestured to the short lines I had been reading. "The one without quotation marks is mine, the other one is from a song. I like to mix other people's work with my own."

"It's good, really," I told her truthfully. "I like to write, but not like this."

"You write stories," she said, sending me a smile. Her curls bobbed each time her head moved, and it was taking all my self-control not to wrap my arms around her and thread my fingers through her hair.

Focus, James.

"Are these all from this year?" I asked, attempting to distract myself from her.

"Nope," she replied. "Just these ones." She pointed to the part of the wall I was looking at. I smirked at her and walked to the part of wall beside her window. It was slightly messier writing and the paper looked like it had been up there for a long time.

"I wonder what these say," I grinned.

"Don't you dare!" she gasped, running over and pulling me away.

"What? I don't get to see younger Augustine's thoughts?" I laughed.

"You absolutely do not," she glared. "They're way too embarrassing and also I don't love who I was when I was younger."

"Then why do you keep that writing up there?" I countered.

She sighed. "I like to look back and think about how much more I like myself now," she answered.

"Bullshit," I laughed. "I bet you were adorable."

"Are you saying I'm not adorable now?" she mock-gasped.

I pulled her closer to me by her wrists, staring at her through my glasses.

"Oh, you're very adorable now," I told her. I had never been flirty in my life, but Augustine brought it out of me. I was beginning to become confident around her.

I watched her eyes widen as she leaned a bit closer. I wanted more than anything to kiss her, but I had no idea if she was ready. I wasn't sure if I was even ready.

Augustine blinked and took the smallest step back.

She's not ready.

"We should, uh, head back downstairs," she whispered. "They're probably wondering where we are."

My heart sank, but I couldn't let her see.

"Of course," I replied.

As we walked out the door and down the stairs, I remembered I still had something to say. In the dark hallway before we rejoined everyone, I took her hand to stop her.

"Augustine?" I whispered. "Thank you."

Her eyes widened, but before she could respond, I squeezed her hand and walked into the dining room.