4. Moving On
“Hi Shane,” Her smile is nothing short of pure evil as she stares up at me unabashed at her lack of clothing. Of course, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but still. How insane is she? I run my hands through the thickness of my hair in frustration, just now noticing how I’m shaking in repressed fury. The freaking nerve of this girl!
Mirriam, aka Mimi, Dixon was the type of girl who couldn’t comprehend the meaning of a no strings attached relationship. No, not even a relationship, just having a bunch of meaningless sex. I first met Mimi at the beginning of my freshman year at college in our shared history class, and admittedly she didn’t make much of an impression on me at first. She was loud, brash, and wild but I wouldn’t discover this until later on. I probably wouldn’t have thought about her twice if we didn’t run in the same social circles. Every party I attended, she was there too, and then I’d see her in class where she became more and more familiar to me. Inevitably, we both ended up drunk at a party one night and had sex. Then it happened again. And again. Eventually, we both agreed to have a no strings attached, friends with benefits type of thing. We were hardly friends though, I’m using the friends with benefits term very loosely. We had never hung out and gotten to know each other on a personal level. The only time our lives merged with one another is when our bodied did.
Things we’re fine for a while until her insanity set in. When I slept with other girls, which we both specified was going to happen, she went crazy; I’m not even exaggerating. She started stalking me, keeping track of where I was on campus, waiting for me in my dorm, she even had the nerve to show up to Marcus’ parent’s house! If she caught wind of me sleeping with another girl she’d terrorize her and create a blowup of drama. I thought I wiped my hands clean of this girl a long time ago.
“Derrick let you in here, didn’t he?” I ask, ignoring her stupid greeting as I stomp over to a dresser, pulling out the first t-shirt I could find and flinging it at her. “Here. Get dressed and get the fuck out.” She sighs out a dainty little breath, kicking off my covers and pulling my top over her head.
“This wasn’t the complete and utter ravishment I was hoping for.”
“Mimi you are clinically insane. Seriously, I made it very clear the last time we spoke that I didn’t want anything to do with you.” Ignoring me, she continues on speaking as if I honestly care about anything she has to say.
“I went to Marcus’ party last night hoping to make up with you, but you were too busy shoving your tongue down Shay’s throat,” The look on her face right now was equal parts murderous and disgusted, her pale lips twisted in obvious distaste. “Was she as good a fuck as me baby?” Her voice is sickly sweet, but her face is anything but. She looks as if she wants to take her razor sharp nails and rake them down my face in pure hatred, but also down my back in pleasure. Wait no, I can’t have those kinds of thoughts about her, the kind that will lead me down a very dark path.
“Come on, you’re leaving now. And if you ever pull this kind of shit on me again I swear I will have a restraining order put out on your ass before you can blink,” I grab her arm and yank her to the door. I can’t believe she’s giving me shit for a girl I actually didn’t sleep with. That’s a first. Noticing her coat on the floor that I somehow missed when I first walked in, I grab it also. Opening the door, I shove her forcefully outside it and when I go to slam it in her face her high heel clad foot stops me.
“I came here last night to wait for you, and Derrick was kind enough to let me stay. But you were out all night.”
“I don’t care Mimi. I meant what I said too. Don’t bother me ever again, because you and I? We had nothing, and you know that. I was never looking for a relationship with you.” I stare down at her emotionlessly as her lips begin to twitch with anger or sadness, I wouldn’t know.
“You’re an asshole Shane. You used me you heartless bastard!” She screams, catching the attention of everyone in the hallway and anyone inside their dorms probably. She’s gonna get my RA on me if she doesn’t stop.
“We used each other. I never had feelings for you and I never will. You knew exactly what you were getting into.” I finally manage to shut the door when she recoils, stepping back as if physically wounded. I can hear her growl before the sound of her heels click clack away. Still angry and slightly pissed off, I stalk over to Derrick’s side of the room and tear his sheets off his bed. Feeling unsatisfied, I yank open his drawers in the dresser we shared and begin to ruin his manically folded, color-coded shirts. Making sure they were wrinkled and messy beyond compare, I rip the sheets off my own bed since they now have to be washed.
“I can’t believe I have to deal with this shit,” I mutter, making sure to lock my door behind me since the last place I wanted to be was in that room. Only Mimi would ruin my relaxation after a night of drinking and on a day I don’t have to go to class. If I wasn’t still so frustrated I’d stick around and wait for Derrick to get back from class so I can witness his epic meltdown and watch him meticulously iron out his shirts and refold each and every one of them. Doing what I just did is more satisfactory than if I would’ve punched him out.
Giving every person who stared at me blankly a death glare, I ignore my RA Bennett and exit the building without looking back.
Grunting,I continue pushing myself to the limit despite my arms straining to keep lifting the weights above me. After the Mimi fiasco my day just kept getting increasingly worse. It was like stubbing your toe really hard on something, then stumbling around like a fool as you curse everyone and everything from the moon and back.When you hit your toe on something, you immediately feel the pain and frustration of it. That was akin to finding Mimi naked in my bed this morning. But just imagine, after hitting your toe, you bend down to grab something and on the way back up you slam the top of your head on the corner of a dresser or something, and it now feels as if someone has taken a hammer and repeatedly bashed you with it until your skull cracks.
When I had finally made it to the laundromat I couldn’t get the washing machine to work so I, an already pissed off idiot, began acting like a maniac. I was kicking the washer, screaming at the other customers who were staring, screaming at the lone loser who was working, okay guys I admit I was a mess. But anyone could get over stubbing their toe, yeah it hurts pretty bad at first but the pain is subjective. Now, if you go and hit your head right after and give yourself a possible concussion, I think you have a right to almost completely lose your shit.
So now I was inside the gym after being kicked out from the closest laundromat to my dorm, and I was pushing my body to the limit to release my pent up anger. The gym always helped when I got into those spiraling moods, offering instant relief to my easily sparked nerves. Setting the weights on the bar above me, I close my eyes and try and regulate my breaths. My chest was rising up and down rapidly and sweat felt as if it was dripping from me by the bucketload. When I do open my eyes though, the last thing I expected was for my breathing to do the exact opposite of slowing down.
My eyes first caught sight of her toned legs, and I admit I was stuck on them for a good few seconds. But when my eyes traveled up her frame and caught sight of her breasts that were peeking out just beautifully from her tank top, I swear it felt like I was transported to heaven. And the icing on the cake was the fact that she was already staring at me.
"Do you have a staring problem lip gloss?" Leaning against the wall beside her, I’m aching to get closer because the sight of her from up here is somehow even greater than I would’ve imagined. I don’t know what it was about this girl, but I was intrigued. What’s the harm in that?
"I have a name, you know." She replies, evading my question with her snarky response. I feel my lips curve upwards.
"I'm not good at remembering names. Ask any girl on campus," I tell her, unashamed and probably too interested to hear her response.
"I think I've heard enough about you so far to last a lifetime. And it's only my first official day here." I have to stop myself from laughing at that, her reply taking me by surprise. Who is this girl? I’ve never had this much trouble trying to get someone to flirt back with me.
"Want to learn more? You got any plans tonight?" I ask her, with full intentions of stepping closer when she completely blew my mind with what she said next.
"I have no interest in becoming another nameless female for you to notch on your belt. All the gossip and rumors about you are far from worth that," She spits, her brown eyes alight with fury and disgust. I make no move to stop her as she roughly gathers her things and stomps away from me. All I can think as I watch her leave, my attention focused on her lower body despite what just happened, is what the fuck.
As conceited as it sounds, I’ve never had to actively pursue a girl. At least, the ones who had to be chased I stayed far away from. The girls I hooked up with were convenient. We’d both be at a party looking for a good time, we’d agree on it being a one time thing, and things would be great that way. I knew a girl like lip gloss would want more than that. I know better than to try and get her, but she’s just so different than the girls I’m always around. And she’s hot as hell. Even after working out with her brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, I couldn’t help but notice her. Not only were her legs long and toned, the rest of her body was really fit. And I wanted to see her body under different circumstances. But after what just happened, the chance of that occurring was slim to none.
Even though I know Marcus won’t be there, I still drive to his parent’s place because I have nothing better to do and nowhere else to go. As irritating as he is, he was right when he said he was my only friend here. I’m not an easy guy to get along with in general and when you add the fact that I don’t like people, it results in me only having one friend at college. I have friends from back home who I still talk to occasionally, but they’re all busy with their lives and I respect that. I’m happy sticking with Marcus until he decides he’s done with my shit and chooses way better friends than I could ever be.
Greeting Mrs. Kammen at the door, I make my way downstairs and flop on the couch. Channel surfing for a bit, I eventually settle on a sports channel playing I basketball I’m not interested in and get on my phone. Looking through my social media aimlessly and ignoring the many texts from people I don’t care about, it’s not long before I find myself on the one person’s page I swore I’d stay away from. It seems as if I couldn’t help myself though as I start scrolling through her Instagram page, a familiar ache settled deep within my chest at the sight of her face.
She’s so fucking beautiful, which makes it all the harder to just block her and close that chapter of my life. She was there for me in a time when I needed someone the most and I fell for her, hard. I was too consumed by my grief and new found love to notice that she hadn’t fell too. It’s been a year now and I keep telling myself I should be over it, over her. But I know deep down that there’s still that hurt, and from it a monster of distrust and apathy grew. My best friend Justin, who I went to highschool with, has reminded me too many times that there isn’t a set time limit on when you’ll be over somebody. He always tells me that everyone nurses a broken heart differently, and that for one person a few months will pass and they’ll be okay, and others it can take years before they’ve truly moved on.
But I don’t want this to last for years to come. I never wanted my heart broken, I never wanted to fall for someone, and yet a year ago I did. It was impossible to stop it because she saw me in a way that no one else ever did. She saw how much I was struggling, how hurt I was, and we bonded over our mutual grief of losing a loved one. And even though I knew our relationship was fucked from the beginning, I still fell hard for Jasmine. After her all I’ve felt when it comes to love is absolutely nothing.
Stopping at a picturely picture she posted a month ago, my hands begin to shake at the sight of her cuddled up in someone else's arms. You couldn’t see his face because it was hidden in her neck, but it didn’t matter. Her head was threw back in laughter, her eyes shining with mirth as her sleek black hair tumbled around her in perfect waves. It didn’t matter who the guy was even though I had a pretty good guess. This picture right here proves that she’s happy, the happiest I’ve ever seen her. As weird as it is, that’s what probably hurt the most about it all. Not the fact that she’s moved on, not the fact that she lied to me, none of that truly matters in retrospect.
What really dug the knife deeper into the charcoaled remnants of my heart was the fact that she was happier without me. I’m not the one who causes her laughter or smile anymore. I’m here, all of these miles away, still the same asshole I was back then. But there’s no one like Jasmine here to see through that. To see through me and catch a glimpse at the heartbroken bastard I truly am.
So Jasmine could be the reason I go through more girls than I care to admit. Maybe she can be blamed for the empty feeling inside of me that can't be reached by anyone else. Or maybe I should just blame myself for still caring all these months later about a girl I would never be good enough for. She taught me a lot of things after we broke up, one of them being that every good thing in my life will eventually be gone and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.