The harsh sound of the rain impinging upon the earth resonated throughout the uninhabited house. I sluggishly made my way down the staircase, moving deliberately slow as the pelting of the rain lulled me back to the comforts of my bed. The faint echo of my mindless footsteps descending the staircase struggled to be heard against the clamour outside, and the feeling of detachment enveloped me within the confines of the house.

The jagged edges of the notepad paper we had stashed near the house phone stood out against the deep mahogany dining room table. It was haphazardly thrown onto the pristine surface, accompanied by a crisp twenty dollar bill, a stark contrast to the hurried scrawl it possessed.

Dodging the bullets of water, I hurriedly opened an umbrella and walked between the raindrops. After having completed my trek to my car, I grabbed a cloth I had stashed away to clean my hands whenever I ate in the car and dried the stray raindrops that splashed onto my legs.

My father's voice reverberated within the leather interior of the car. His morning segment on the radio was something that he genuinely took pleasure in hosting, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. He was in the middle of taking calls from his listeners I noticed, and it was one of the few times I had managed to catch this portion of his segment on the radio.

The rain extended my journey to school by ten minutes and somewhere within that extended period of time a woman with an exhausted voice had called.

"Welcome new caller, how can I help you this morning?" My dad's cheery voice beckoned. A small smile tugged at my lips as my dad turned on his southern charm that he had gained in the first eighteen years of his life.

"Good morning Lucas, my teenage daughter recently experienced her first heart break. I know you have a daughter around her age, but I don't have a clue on how to help her."

I blanched. The woman was presumably in her mid-thirties and her words were laced with early morning exhaustion. I said a silent prayer hoping that my father wouldn't mention my name anywhere in his advice, but maybe it worked a little better than I had initially expected.

"Nursing a broken heart is a harrowing endeavour, and it's something we've all had to experience at one point in our lives." He took a deep breath and gave a hearty chuckle, "Kids these days eh? We try to hold onto them but they keep insisting on growing up." I inhaled sharply, anticipating the mention of my name and my break up with Jared. "In fact, I don't know one person who hasn't felt like their first heartbreak would be the death of them. Once you can accept what happened, and prepare to take care of yourself and your emotions, you'll be able to move on and grow past it. One thing to keep in mind is that you will eventually feel like yourself, and that's something I think we need to be sure our kids know."

My heart stammered in my chest as I listened to the words roll off of my father's tongue with ease. I tried to recall my time spent holed up in my bedroom, wrapped in the security of my comforter. My father hadn't once mentioned any of this to me but instead he let my mom deal with it. My mother, who was weary from a long day's work had to come home to a distraught daughter.

I jammed my finger onto the radio, effectively switching the stations with slight force, no longer wanting to hear my father's upbeat voice laced with wisdom that was hardly extended to me when needed. The rational part of my brain tried to justify the actions – or lack thereof – of my father, and every fibre of my being believed it, but I was still left inhaling a suffocating sense of inadequacy.

By the time I found a parking space, the downpour had subsided and shifted into a light drizzle. I opened my umbrella for the second time for the day and hurriedly made my way up the stairs and into the school.

Nearing my locker, I noticed a familiar head of auburn hair, pulled back into a ponytail. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion upon seeing Breanna casually leaning against my locker, with a wristlet looped around her wrist and a phone clutched between her fingers.

"You're on my locker," I said, stating the obvious. In reality, I'd had this locker since the beginning of the year, something Breanna was fully aware of. She regarded me lazily, unperturbed by my presence. Finally rolling her eyes after a pregnant pause, she shifted her body onto the adjacent locker. "Can I help you?" I drawled uninterested.

Breanna regarded me with a speck of amusement shining through her eyes, "You? Help me?" she scoffed in disbelief. "Honey you can't even help yourself," she finished, with venom dripping from her words. Her words made my insides tighten into coils, but I refused to show weakness.

Breanna's face fell for a brief moment, the cracks in her exterior showing for the slightest of moments, before being carefully reconstructed into a mask that I was becoming all too familiar with. The change was so effortless that I vaguely wondered if I had imagined it all, but I wasn't left much time to confirm my suspicions as one of the members of her dance team strolled towards us and opened the locker adjacent to my own. I had been coming to my locker every day for the entire academic year, but I had never spared a second glance at my locker-mate.

*****

All five of my morning periods sluggishly crawled by, leaving me with an exorbitant amount of newfound knowledge that threatened to burst through at various points of my skull. Sociology class ran ten minutes late and it was prime time for the lunch lines, and by the time I'd have made it to the front, most of the food would be gone. Not in the mood for soggy, room temperature leftovers, I spun on my heels and walked in the opposite direction of the cafeteria.

The halls were bare of its usual bustle save for the sparse dusting of the students that deposited their books into their lockers uncaringly. I drifted towards my own, letting my eyes wander past vaguely familiar faces. I had spent the better part of four years at this school, and yet I couldn't identify the students who shared classes with me by name.

I blew a breath of resignation as I arrived at my locker and stowed away the seven hundred-paged Sociology textbook I had been lugging around. A few strands of golden hair fell from my loosened ponytail, and I tucked it behind my hair making a mental note to stop at the bathroom to fix it before the end of lunch.

A few lockers down, I noticed Kinsley Martinez leaning against an unoccupied locker as he waited on Holland Jefferson to gather her belongings from her locker. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I recalled spending lunch with and other mutual friends of Jared and I, spewing laughter over Kinsley's futile attempts to woo Holland with his cheesy pick-up lines. Their relationship was like an unspoken agreement between them, unbeknownst to the public. Regardless of what reckless decisions Kinsley made while drunk or Holland's impassive reactions towards Kinsley, there was always a gravitational pull that seemed to be locked between the two.

After Holland had closed her locker, she spun on her heel and walked past me with her eyes set forward. Kinsley caught my eyes however, as he strolled a footsteps length behind Holland with recognition brightening his features. He hesitated for a short second before telling Holland that he'd meet her in the cafeteria. When Holland's eyes locked with mine, they softened slightly before tossing a tight lipped smile and curt nod in our general direction.

"Hey," Kinsley pocketed his hands and dropped his shoulders, "how have you been?"

The question seemed so generalized, useful in any type of encounter, but I couldn't stop the noticeable tightening in my chest as he spoke. It was then did I realize that I hadn't spoken to any of Jared and mine's mutual friends; far less had they expressed concern for me.

"I've been better," I admitted in a semi hoarse voice, averting my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. "How is everyone?" I asked uninterested. I really wanted to know how they were without me, if my presence was missed, but I held back.

"Everyone's doing fine," he added, "Holland's finally agreed to let me teach her how to drive."

"That's great, it's only been what, two years?" I asked with a small smile on my lips as I reminisced on Kinsley's countless pleas to convince Holland to drive.

"Give or take," he added with an easy smile. He dragged one of his hands from his pockets and rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen Georgia, I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you earlier. A part of me wanted to but we don't have any classes together and -"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I forced a smile onto my face. It was the first time I was conversing with Kinsley nearly a month, and I didn't want to ruin it by mentioning that he could've met me during lunch or simply texted me since he had my number.

"I was guilty," he spluttered, "I couldn't talk to you because I felt – I feel, partially responsible for what happened."

My skin bristled. "Exactly what are you referring to?" I spat, "Remind me because a lot happened at once. Was it the breakup, my best-friend turning against me, the article that bashed my character or my favourite, becoming this social pariah?" So much for threading lightly, I thought bitterly.

Kinsley averted his eyes this time, casting them downwards as he adjusted his hold on the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "I should've warned you about the break-up," he mumbled.

"Wait – are you saying that you knew?" I asked in astonishment, "Did everyone know?"

"Definitely not, just Kurt and I," he corrected hastily. "I mean we didn't know that Jared would do it the way he did but –" he paused his rambling, "- the point is, he told us about Julie, and the idiot I am supported him." Kinsley's face was the perfect mirror of regret and contrition.

I thought of Jared and my relationship; how filtering through the now hazy images that were tucked neatly into a file in my memory still had a faint string of emotions attached to them like the tape that secured a buy one get one free promotion.

"You know what? It doesn't matter anymore."

It did.

"Enjoy your lunch, tell everyone I said hi."

Please don't, it's not like they'd care anyways.

A door slammed shut, and Finn flinched. I spotted him exiting a classroom lower down the hall and noticed the phone he held against his ear, whispering his reply into the speaker.

"I will. But I'm still really sorry Georgia." I pulled my attention from Finn. Kinsley radiated sincerity, but I had already constructed a wall between us that was built on weak foundation. As he turned to leave, I felt the last of my restraints fall free.

"I'll see you around Kinsley," I said, tossing him a weak smile. I hadn't even begun to process what had transpired, but that didn't mean that I wasn't willing. I missed the companionship, and Lauren had been missing in action for quite some time.

Finn neared, still holding his phone to his ear as he tossed a nod of recognition towards the departing Kinsley. For a moment, I thought that he was going to do the same to me, before he halted his footsteps and pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked off-handily. I shook my head in response and he muttered a few more words to the receiver on the other end of the phone before pocketing his sleek cell-phone. "I don't particularly enjoy eating alone, have lunch with me?" He asked, glancing my way as he resumed walking.

I rushed to match his pace, "Is this something that you do all the time?" I asked wearily.

"Not exactly, but I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and get a report on your participation in the Website Club." I nodded my head in understanding, wheels turning in my head as I formulated my opinion on the nerd club. It seemed unfitting to refer to the website club as nerdy or geeky after our last meeting, but an accumulation of years' practice had made its presence into an uneasily broken habit.

I sat on the bench that was placed a ways off from the main building, with a view of the greenhouse. Finn and I had parted ways, me choosing our location, and him to collect the food that he had ordered.

I saw him in the distance, walking with a pizza box in his hands as he manoeuvred through the tree stumps and uneven lawn with ease. Despite being decked out in his full formal attire, he looked a lot less like a sore thumb as he seemed to radiate the confidence that he lacked in the first weeks of his training. With his newfound poise and morale, he seemed to belong in this environment, with the backdrop being an old English building that screamed sophistication that was surrounded by greenery.

My newly gained perspective on Finn had me on edge, as in that exact moment the memory of who he was in the abandoned stadium resurfaced. Finn was a complete stranger, with secrecy woven into the fabric of the suit that he wore, in stark contrast to the laid back attire he sported on the day we had met. Caught up in his authoritative presence, it was convenient to forget all about the danger that surrounded our initial introduction.

He sat the box down onto the bench in the space between us, and I eyed the box warily as he opened it, revealing a simple pepperoni pizza. He ordered from a pizza place that I usually ordered from, so the still hot object taunted my all too familiar senses.

"Finn?" I asked carefully, stringing together my thoughts into coherent sentences, fortitude pouring into my words, "I need you to explain the day we met."

*****

author's note: 

to all my lovely readers, thank you for getting this novel to 15K reads and 1K votes. i love you all so much, and your opinions and thoughts mean the world to me.

gabrielle x