A Beautiful, Terrible Love, Lucky 97 [classic romance novels .txt] 📗

beautiful day, the clouds as puffy as marshmallows, wildlife crawling in between the thick blades of grass.
There was a pounding, a smattering of footsteps, and then a firm hand on my back alerted me immediately to what was going on.
Peter was suddenly by my side.
I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach as I looked at him, his brown-blonde hair rippling, it's waviness catching the sunlight and displaying it on his slightly curled locks. His chocolate eyes caught my own, snagging it, holding my gaze so I couldn't look away. His hand, releasing my shoulder, sent a wave of tingles throughout my body, electrifying me. What was this curious feeling?
"Hey," he smiled, his teeth shining, his face a vision, causing awe that almost reminded me of... He Who Shall Not Be Named.
"Hey," I replied, echoing his words. His house was in the opposite direction, we both knew. He wanted to talk to me, his intentions clear.
However, he just moved his feet along with mine; maneuvering with me through the bushes, out of the meadow, onto the sidewalk which led me to home.
We walked in silence, his shoulder brushing against mine every few seconds, each of us trembling with words, words we were too shy to utter. My face burned from the scalding heat, my cheeks growing apple red from exertion.
I hurriedly took a glance at Peter in horror. What if he saw my redness, and thought I was blushing? How embarrassing that would be!
Peter caught my facial expression, of course, his eyebrows raised in inquiry, amusement wrinkling his forehead. He let loose a laugh, a big, booming one that signified pure joy and elation. "What's wrong?" he asked laughingly.
"I'm not BLUSHING, you idiot!" I angrily retorted to his jibe, "I'm just... hot. From the heat."
Peter grinned even wider, pulling a thin, rectangular object out of his backpack. We paused as he fiddled with it, tampering with strange hidden buttons, or switches.
Then suddenly, without warning, the object whooshed, a blur of movement, into a full fledged umbrella! I gasped at the sight. I had never seen anything like it before.
Peter put the umbrella behind us both, blocking the sunlight. I smiled, a blast of cool, fresh air reaching me and dancing with random strands of my brown hair.
"Aren't I your Prince Charming!" he joked, though there was a trace of seriousness behind his words. He was implying that he would be a better choice. The best choice.
"Sure," I said offhandedly, my voice catching on the whisper of the breeze and traveling outwards. Peter smiled in pleasure, his objective obtained.
"Eve," he stood in front of me, blocking my path. He reached out, with calm, loving fingers, touching the tip of my nose. It was an intimate feeling, almost like a kiss, signaling more to come. His form hulked before me, his voice straining to be heard over the robins' sweet song. "Could... you go to the amusement park with me this Saturday?" he asked in a rush, his words blurring together, his eyes drilling through mine.
Even though his speech was flawed at that moment, I understood every word. Peter was asking me on a date.
I wanted to say yes. I really did.
But something hindered me. Something blocked my way.
I had a feeling I knew what it was.
"I don't know," I finally whispered. Peter's eyes grew wide, his mouth turned into a pout, his eyebrows scrunching as he narrowed them.
"Why not?" he asked lowly, his tone was of sadness and disappointment.
I said nothing, just moving my feet in sync with his, our bodies perfectly aligned. I had no answer to his question.
Peter suddenly turned on me, his hair sparkling, his chocolate eyes trying to snag my gaze. There was a desperate quality to him now, a strange, uncharacteristic desperateness to his being. His body shook, not much unlike Jared's earlier nervous fumbling.
"Please," he begged, his voice melting like syrup through my ears. His begging sounded so delicious, so tempting, "Please move on."
I stood, stone still, my voice unable to come forth from within. Everything inside me was dead. Suspended in time, frozen forever. I wish I could move on, but it was a nearly impossible task that I felt I couldn't accomplish.
I wish...
I suddenly felt violently angry. How dare he ask me to move on so quickly! Did he have any idea how badly I had been hurt throughout my life?
All my emotions had to be let out. I had to emit the terrible feelings that were beating me from the inside.
"I just don't know, Peter!" I yelled, my sharp, bitter words slicing through the thin air like a knife. It was as if I had struck Peter, his eyes wide with shock, his hand flopping down by his side.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, faster and faster from the terrible disaster I had just caused. I didn't take a single glance back, but if I did, I felt that Peter would still be standing there, staring at my retreating back until I was only a tiny speck in the horizon.

"Hey mom!" I exclaimed, my face and back soaked with sweat, my legs tensed from the running. The terrible running.
It was as if I couldn’t stop, as I zoomed down the sidewalks, the exhaustion meaning nothing. My emotions were my fuel.
And now, as I reached home, I had no feeling left.
Lou, sitting on the kitchen table, got up and came over to me quickly. "What's wrong?" she inquired, her voice soothing, relaxing. She always seemed to immediately know, as if there was some "motherly sense" all mothers had, when I was upset in any way, and today was no exception.
"N-nothing," I whispered. It took so much effort to breathe, to part my lips and gasp out the words I wanted to say. Lou smiled nervously, immediately dropping the subject. She was an amazing mom, I suddenly realized. To not be nosy, especially if it was your kid you were talking to, was an incredible feat.
"Can you do me a favor and go get the mail?" she inquired quickly, breaking the sudden silence between us. I nodded quickly, a thin, meager smile brightening my face. When I was younger, collecting the mail was my favorite thing to do. I still remembered the amazing emotions searing through me as I walked for the first time, by myself, to the mailbox. It was mostly pure elation, responsibility as I grabbed the envelopes and trooped inside.
And, strangely, I still felt that same joy even now, the excitement long gone but the emotions still hidden inside.
I yanked the door open, releasing some of the beautiful, boiling hot outdoors into our living room. Gracefully, I stepped out of the doorway into the yard, an interesting array of dandelions, tulips, sunflowers, and roses scattered throughout it all. A single tree stood a small one whose growth was stunted at an early age, in the corner of the two fences. It was absolutely beautiful, covered in cherry blossoms and surrounded by honeysuckle. I raised my hand to the nonexistent breeze, hoping for some of the wind to brush past it.
I trooped over to the black box, curved on the top end, the pure white numbers on the top reading 3940. Slowly, I forced the bright red arrow down to its sitting position at the bottom of the mailbox. Grabbing the tiny hook, I edged the door down, waiting anxiously to see what was inside. This was my favorite part. The suspense.
A small package, covered in masking tape and cardboard, reading my name, and my name only was delicately written on the front side. I took it out, weighing it carefully. It was not heavy at all, a lightweight object that made no noise when I shook it. The container was flat, probably holding a book or something.
I wondered who sent it to me. It wasn't one of my friends or anything. They would have just given it to me. Curiosity savagely bit at me, eating me whole. Maybe it said the sender's name on the inside.
I fingered the box in my hands, bringing it inside, shutting the door quietly behind me. Once I was inside, I, fumbling with the tape, tore it open. The package's outer shell came off easily, like tearing a tissue down the middle.
All I could see, suddenly, was complete and total horror. I had to speak his name. I had to think it.
Dex was on the front cover on the People magazine, staring into another girl's eyes.
The girl was beautiful, her milky brown skin complimenting her even darker hair, her large eyes framed with thick eyelashes, wearing a gold, shimmery dress. Her facial expressions were priceless, her extreme admiration for Dex shown in the cover picture. The headline read, in big, bold letters, Hollywood's New Golden Couple, and they certainly looked like it, with the way they were staring at each other. I recognized her as Serena immediately, and hate started to bubble in my chest. Why did she have to hurt me like this? Why did she have to take him away?
I knew she would be back to hurt me.
Well, maybe Dex wanted to get away from me. I couldn't place all the blame on her. Dex obviously had to be willing to drop everything and go to Hollywood to be with Serena. I suddenly felt a pang of envy. Suddenly, I wasn't sure that if I was in Hollywood, Dex would come to see me.
I checked the package once more. The sender's name was not there. It must have been some anonymous person that wanted to inform me of the horrible situation I was in. I guess, though, I would have found out about it soon enough.
That was probably why no reporters had been near me the past couple of days. I was past news. I was another one of Dex’s washed out, heavily used toys, thrown away into the slushy mud as he found another.
A single tear exited the corner of my eye, dribbling down my cheek and chin and then splashing onto the polished floor. Thousands of questions seared through me. Why? Why did everything turn out this way?
Why couldn’t everything just be completely and totally perfect for once?
Lou had left the room, obviously seeing my distress, my desire to be alone. The tears were flowing faster, down my dress, my arms, my face. Breathing was getting harder, coming in shorter gasps. Emotions were overtaking me, the sadness overwhelming.
I picked up my cell phone, a brand new Blackberry, pressing the on button. Dots of pure, clear water dwelled on the phone, and then slipped off to collide with the floor. It was getting hard to see, my eyesight blurred by the tears. The terrible tears.
I scrolled through my contacts, pausing when I reached a name. Quickly, I pressed the call button, and a crackle followed. Another pause ensued, and then the ringing began.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?" I asked, my voice shaky, overwhelmed with the thin, gasping breaths, the terrible emotions that struck me still. As I talked, I kept glancing at the People magazine, hoping, somehow, that I was just hallucinating. That the picture on the magazine was a lie. A phony.
But every time I glanced at it, the same horrible scene reappeared in my mind.
Quickly, I tried to hold back the tears as I continued.
Move on, Eve. Move on.
"I've been thinking about it, and I decided that I would like to go with you to the amusement park on Saturday..."

Chapter 19

I was growing more and more suspicious of