Beautifully Mine: A High School Bully Romance (Voclain Academy Book Four) by Jordan Grant

Author:Jordan Grant [Grant, Jordan & Grant , Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-23T18:30:00+00:00

18

HARLOW

My heart boomerangs against my ribs, a rush of adrenaline bringing a knocking to my knees. I want to go back and find Ian Beckett and demand to know what his problem is. I want to yell and scream and throw a fit for that stunt he pulled back there, pretending like he can control me, the asshat. His silver spoon must have scooped out his brains over the last couple of months because he's lost his mind if he thinks he can. Professor Isabellan wouldn't like it if we went for round two, though, and I'm not about to test whether she was serious about her threat of missing out on graduation.

He isn't worth not being able to walk across the stage. It would shatter what's left of my mother's heart if I took that away from her, the chance to see her only living child accept a high school diploma. There'd be no fixing her after that either, no coming back. I'm positive she'd wither away to nothing right in front of me.

Just like his mother if he had chosen you, hypocrite.

I tell myself it's different. Ian's not saving his mom from heartache. He's prolonging her suffering in silence. Yet the longer I think on it, the more the lines blur, and I don't want that. I don't want that at all.

I want black-and-white, love or hate, true or lies, not the gray.

In the gray, I love him and I hate him. I long for his touch yet never want to see his wicked face again. I drown in the gray, and it's a slow, quiet death.

I don't think a person dies of a broken heart quickly. I think it's a cruel, measured process that gives you hope and then steals it away.

A broken heart still tries to work, erratically pumping blood through its chambers, its beat capricious and unpredictable. Every so often, it sends red and white cells through your arteries and vessels and into your capillaries to color your skin pink. Your body looks alive because your heart hasn't given up, not yet. Someone forgot to tell it that it's no longer needed, and so it tries to fix itself, squeezing and clenching. Slowly, those beats spread farther and farther apart until finally, one day, it stops trying altogether.

Maybe it takes days or weeks or months or years, but the end result is the same. When you're gone, it's because of a broken heart.

My heart is broken, but it still beats, and I can't watch my mother's break anymore, so I'll listen to Professor Isabellan and I'll keep my distance from Ian Beckett as best I can. I won't yell or throw a fit or give him the satisfaction of losing my cool, or at least I'll try not to.

I don't know if Professor Isabellan was serious about having us practice our instruments today. It certainly doesn't seem on topic for class, but I'm not about to turn around and ask her to clarify her instructions either.

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