Heart Bones - Colleen Hoover Page 0,16

my father.

Nothing works. I just keep crying. Five whole minutes probably pass while I stand and look out at the water through blurry, tear-filled vision while I sob.

I need to tell my father what happened last night.

I inhale several breaths and wipe my eyes, mustering up every ounce of resolve in me in order to regain control of my emotions. I eventually wipe enough tears out of my eyes so that I can actually appreciate the view of the ocean under the moonlight.

The girl Samson was kissing in his kitchen earlier has just crossed over the sand dune between the two houses. She joins a crowd of people gathered around a fire. They’re all young, probably in their late teens and early twenties. They’re likely all rich and carefree and confident. This is probably what Sara does every night, and those are probably her friends.

More people I have nothing in common with.

I don’t want anyone to see me up here crying, so I spin to go back into my room.

I freeze.

Samson is standing alone on the balcony next door. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression.

I stare back at him for two seconds, and then I walk into the bedroom and close the door.

First, he sees me eating bread off the deck of a ferry. Then he offers me money, and I’m still not sure of his motives behind that offer. Then I find out he’s my new neighbor for the summer.

And now he’s witnessed the first breakdown I’ve had in years.

Great.

Fuck this summer.

Fuck these people.

Fuck the whole current state of my life.

FIVE

I had my first kiss when I was twelve.

It was a Saturday morning. I was standing at the stove about to cook scrambled eggs. I didn’t hear my mother return home the night before, so I assumed I was in the house alone. I had just cracked two eggs into a pan when I heard my mother’s bedroom door open.

I looked over to see an unfamiliar man walking out of her bedroom holding a pair of work boots. He paused when he saw me at the stove.

I’d never seen him before. My mother was always in a new relationship or a new breakup. I did my best to stay out of her way, whether she was falling in love or getting her heart broken. Both were equally dramatic.

I’ll never forget the way the man looked at me. It was a slow gaze, from head to toe, like he was hungry and I was a meal. It was the first time a man had ever looked at me like that. I instantly felt the hair on my arms rise and I immediately turned my attention back to the stove.

“You not gonna say hello?” the man asked.

I ignored him. I was hoping if he thought I was rude, he’d leave. But instead, he walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter next to the stove. I was focused on stirring the eggs. “You make enough for me?”

I shook my head. “We only had two eggs.”

“Sounds like just enough. I’m starvin’.”

He walked over to the table and started putting on his work boots. I had finished scrambling the eggs by the time he had his boots on. I didn’t know what to do. I was hungry and they were our only two eggs, but he was sitting at the table like he expected me to feed him. I didn’t even know who the hell he was.

I transferred the eggs to a plate, grabbed a fork and tried to rush out of the kitchen toward my bedroom. He reached me in the hallway, grabbing my wrist and pushing me against the wall.

“Is this how you treat guests?”

He grabbed me by the jaw and kissed me.

I was struggling to get away from him. His mouth was painful. Stubble dug into my face and he smelled of rotten food. I kept my teeth clenched tight, but he just kept squeezing my jaw harder, trying to pry my mouth open. I finally hit him upside his head as hard as I could with the plate of eggs.

He pulled back and slapped me.

Then he left.

I never saw him again. I never even knew his name. My mother woke up a few hours later and saw the broken plate and the uneaten eggs sitting at the top of the trash can. She yelled at me for wasting the last two eggs.

I haven’t eaten eggs since that day.

But I’ve slapped plenty of my mother’s boyfriends since