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Praise for The Oracle of Dating
“The Oracle of Dating is, without a doubt, the cutest book I’ve read so far this year, and a fantastic start to a new series!”
—Lauren’s Crammed Bookshelf
“I absolutely ate up this light, amusing tale of romance and friendship…. Read it for a positive spin on girl friendship, for the spunky narrator, for some smoking sexual tension (hey, this is Harlequin, after all!) that doesn’t cross the line, and, of course, for a tale of first love.”
—Kinnelon Library Teen Blog
“The Oracle of Dating is a quick, fun read with a witty lead character.”
—The Lip Gloss Chronicles
“It’s fun, wonderfully lighthearted, and the whole Oracle element puts an entirely new twist on the typical young adult romance…it even gives some pretty insightful and useful dating advice.”
—Obsessed!
“An adorable read. It took me back to the best moments of high school, made me feel the romance and just took me out of life for a while.”
—My Reading Room
The Oracle Rebounds
Allison van Diepen
For two special guys in my life, Jeremy and Nate.
And for cheering the Oracle on, a big thank-you to Mary-Theresa Hussey, Natashya Wilson and Elizabeth Mazer at Harlequin Teen, and my agent, Ashley Grayson.
What are the warning signs that your boyfriend is about to break up with you?
a) He’s avoiding your calls.
b) He keeps canceling on you.
c) You catch him getting cozy with another girl.
d) He spends more time with his friends than with you.
Correct answer? Any of the above. Warning signs vary. And if you’re really unlucky, there aren’t any.
Contents
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
one
Happily ever after is meant to last forever, right? Well, my happily ever after lasts five months, three weeks and two days. Then Jared drops a bomb.
“I need to take a step back, Kayla. I have to figure some things out right now.”
I stop listening after the “step back” part. I feel like I’m sinking through the floor. Jared is the one, isn’t he? This can’t be happening.
He’s watching me. “You’re not saying anything.”
“I’m chewing my pizza so I don’t choke.”
“Oh.”
I swallow my food. Keep it together, I tell myself. Having a public meltdown will only make this worse. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Just that you understand.”
“I don’t.”
I don’t and I don’t want to. Why can’t this be any other Saturday night at Colonnade Pizza? I must’ve misheard him. He can’t be breaking up with me…. God, he’s so beautiful, with his curly dark hair falling over his forehead, and his blue eyes so tortured. He’s talking again. “Ever since I didn’t get that scholarship to art school, I’ve had to think about what I’m going to do with my life.”
“I get that, but how does that lead to you dumping me?” And then it hits me. He must’ve met another girl. The familiarity between us, the ease of us knowing each other so well, no longer excites him. Before he can answer my question, I throw it out there. “Is there someone else?”
His eyes widen. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
“Of course I did. I’m just asking.”
“You’re the only girl and that’s the truth.” He sighs. “I’ve been too into you these past few months. I haven’t been focusing enough on my art. If I’d put more effort into my portfolio, I might’ve gotten that scholarship. I was counting on it, and now I’m not sure what I’ll do. This is an important time in my life and I’ve been spending more time thinking about you than my own future.”
He’s talking, talking, blah, blah, blah…
And all I’m hearing is that I’m being dumped.
“Kayla, are you okay?”
My eyes fill up. My throat is closing. I’m either discovering a new food allergy or having my heart broken. “I’m…surprised, that’s all.”
“I’m not saying this is permanent. I don’t know.”
I’ll wait for you, Jared. I’ll give you time. Whatever you need. But I can’t say it. Pride doesn’t let me. “You’re making a big mistake, don’t you see that? I’m not just going to wait around for you. It’s…insulting!”
He shrugs helplessly. That look in his eyes—it’s killing me. He looks sad, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s for me.
Dumping me is one thing. Pitying me is another. He’s so crossed the line.
“Maybe it’s better if it is permanent,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “Teen relationships only have a thirteen percent chance of being long-term anyway.”
“That’s the Oracle talking, not you.”
“Yeah, well, we’re one and the same. I’m going to move on, Jared. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you.”
He nods gravely. “I understand.”
I blink. Can he let me go just like that? After spending half a year with him, after telling him I love him, this is humiliating. Didn’t he promise to love me forever? What about that?
“I’m going.” I slide out of the booth.
He grabs my arm. “Kayla…”
“What? Do you have anything more to say?”
“I guess…not.” He lets go of my arm. He can’t even look at me anymore.
“Bye.” And I’m gone.
In the blink of an eye, everything is different. I ride the subway in a daze, torn between tears and hysterical laughter. It’s over. OVER.
As the Oracle of Dating, I should have seen this coming. Sure, Jared has been acting a little weird recently, but I thought that was because he didn’t get the scholarship to art school. I’d hated to see him so disappointed, and I’d done everything I could to cheer him up. He seemed to be feeling better the past few days, like he’d finally accepted it and turned a corner. Maybe the real reason his mood had improved was because he’d made the decision to send me to Dumpsville.
I remember reading in one of Mom’s relationship books that sometimes when people feel powerless in their lives, they dump their significant other because that’s one part of their lives they do have control over. Worse, sometimes they blame their partner for their problems. Maybe that’s what Jared is doing. “I’ve been too into you these past few months.” Aren’t you supposed to be into the person you’re dating?
Well, Jared, if I’d known it was a problem for you, I wouldn’t have been so damned fantastic!
Whatever, he made his decision. I have to move on. There are lots of cute guys around. It’s not like I haven’t noticed them. I have!
Half an hour later, I get home. I live on a quiet street in Midwood, Brooklyn, with big old trees that shed branches whenever there’s heavy rain or wind. I’ve lived in this old brownstone ever since I can remember. Dad left us the house when he and Mom divorced, though apparently he made Mom buy him out. Since my sister, Tracey, is ten years older than me and lives in Manhattan, it’s just me, Mom and my stepdad, a Swedish theologian named Erland.
Mom’s car is gone, which is good because I don’t feel like talking right now. I just want to go to my room and bawl. First I have to get past Erland, who’s in the living room watching PBS. I close the door quietly and creep toward the stairs.
“What are you doing home so early?”
Great. I go back into the living room. “Jared…” My chin quivers. “H-he b-broke up w-with me.”
“I’m sorry to hear this,” he says with his thick Swedish-chef accent. “Can I offer you a hug?”
I almost laugh at the formal offer, but I go to receive his hug. “Thanks.” I sit beside him on the couch. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s his loss!”
He chuckles. “That’s true. And you are both very young, too young to get serious.”
“I know.” The Oracle is always advising teen girls not to get too serious about their relationships. I’ve seen so many of them devastated when their boyfriends break up with them. The truth is, many guys just aren’t ready for anything serious at our age. Knowing that, I’d shied away from relationships myself, since the odds of them working are extremely low. And then I met Jared, and my good sense went out the window. I thought we had a once-in-a-lifetime connection, a connection worth taking a risk for. And now…Dumpsville.
“What I’m saying is,” Erland continues in his slow, professorly way, “as we get older, we learn more about what qualities are important to us in a partner.”
“I know you’re right. It just hurts.” I’ve read that heartbreak is an accepted cause of death in some South American countries. I don’t want to die. What a waste to die over a guy!
Erland hands me some tissue. “I had my heart broken when I was young. The girl was named Hannah…or maybe it was Krista.”
“She broke your heart and you can’t even remember her name?”
“It appears that way.” He laughs. “She was such a beautiful girl, and she promised me she’d always be mine. I thought we might marry one day. And then one week before our prom, she broke up with me. I later heard she attended with another boy, one of the school’s best hockey players.”
“That’s harsh. I bet she’d regret it if she knew you were one of the world’s top Martin Luther scholars.”
Erland blushes. “I doubt she would have appreciated my career in theology. We were not well matched, she and I, and in time I realized that. If I had stayed with her I would’ve had a very different life. I will always be glad that she broke up with me because otherwise I never would have met your mother, who is truly my soul mate.”
Erland believes in soul mates? I didn’t peg Erland for the romantic type. But then, I didn’t peg him for an astrologer either, yet he is. “So after this girl dumped you, how long before you met Mom?”
“About thirty years.”
“Thirty years!” I know Erland’s old, but holy crap, that’s a long time. “I don’t think I can wait thirty years to meet someone else.”
“I met other women in that time. But for true love, yes, I had to wait thirty years. I doubt it will take that long for you.”
I hope not!
For the first time, I go to my website to find help for me.
After chatting with Erland a little more, I head upstairs and log on to oracleofdating.com. It’s a great-looking site, colorful and user friendly, thanks to Tracey’s web design skills. These days I give most of my advice via live chats. I still have the phone line, but it’s barely profitable.
I recall blogging a few times on the topic of breakups. Searching the archives, I find three blogs. Relationship SOS: Are You about to Break Up? Obviously it’s a little late for that one. Why a Breakup Can Be Good for You. I’m not ready to look at the bright side just yet. Ten Ways to Deal with a Breakup. Okay, this is the one.
Ten Ways to Deal with a Breakup
1. Cry—get the emotions out. You’ll feel better after ward.
2. Write in a journal. Putting your thoughts and feelings into words is a healthy way to work through them.
3. Exercise. If you’re anything like me, getting your butt to the gym or out for a run is hard. But afterward you’ll feel great. Exercise increases serotonin in the brain, the chemical that makes you feel happy.
4. Listen to boppy, happy music. If you keep listening to sappy ballads, you’ll never move on.
5. Get rid of as much evidence of your ex as possible. Take pictures off your wall, move emails from your inbox, put away old letters and gifts. Put them in a box in the back of your closet if you want to look back on them twenty years from now.
6. Make an effort not to hang out at the same places you did with your ex unless, of course, they are your favorite places and you don’t want to give them up.
7. Ask your friends not to mention your ex. You don’t need to know everything he’s doing or who he’s doing it with.
8. Open your eyes to the possibilities around you. It’s never too soon to appreciate eye candy!
9. Resist the urge to keep rehashing your feelings about the breakup. In the first week or two, vent all you want. After that, keep most of it in or write in your journal. Project the image that you’re moving on. Eventually, you’ll start to live it.
10. Don’t stay home because you feel depressed. Get out and party!
Looks like I’m still at #1, judging by the tears that keep blurring my eyes. It doesn’t help that my sinuses are clogged and I can hardly breathe. Breaking up is so not pretty.
My stomach grumbles, and I realize I’d barely gotten through one slice of pizza when Jared dropped the bomb. I go downstairs in search of comfort food. I think some ice cream is in order.
Why is it people on TV lose their appetite when they’re depressed? When I’m depressed, I do nothing but eat. Nestlé’s Rollo ice cream, M&M’s ice cream and Milky Way ice cream have consolidated two of my favorite vices, ice cream and candy bars. Of course, with my lactose intolerance, too much dairy is never a good thing. So I pop two Lactaid pills and hope for the best.
I head back to my room, bowl of ice cream in hand. Then I notice it on my wall: the painting. Whenever I look at it, my heart swells with love, but now it just deepens my misery. Jared gave it to me one random night, not for any special occasion. It shows a young woman in a field of white blossoms, her hair blowing in the ice-blue wind, a mysterious smile on her face. He said the girl represented me, and the wind was him, madly trying to grasp her hair or her flowing dress, but getting happily caught up in both. I knew that when he gave me the painting, he was telling me he loved me, even though it was a few more weeks before he said the words.
Based on #5 of my own advice, I’d better take down the painting. Should I punch my fist through it, like someone on TV might do? Throw it in the fireplace and dance before the flames while doing a cleansing chant? But I can’t destroy the painting, I know that. It reminds me of what a talented artist Jared is and why he deserved that art scholarship. And it’s proof that the love between us had been real. To destroy it would be like saying that the love never existed.
I take the painting down and put it in my closet, facing the back wall. Then, since my closet is messy anyway, I throw a cardigan over it so I won’t have to see it.
A bleep comes from my computer. It’s an instant message for the Oracle. Forget it. I’m not in the mood to answer questions. Right now I’m having trouble dealing with my own life.
I try to turn my mind to other things, but then my conscience kicks in. What if it’s important? What if someone really needs me?
Oracle: Good evening.
NYCgirl224: Hi, Oracle. My family hates my boyfriend. They’re doing everything they can to make me break up with him. They won’t tell me when he calls or stops by. It’s to the point that I have to meet him in secret.
Oracle: That must be really difficult for you. Have you talked to your family about why they feel this way?
NYCgirl224: Of course. They think we fight too much. But all couples fight, don’t they? It’s normal. They just don’t know him like I do. They don’t see how sweet and loving he is.
Oracle: Maybe your family’s concerned you’re not happy with him.
NYCgirl224: They’re so judgmental. Yeah, he’s made some mistakes, but he’s always apologized for them. He’s not a bad guy.
Oracle: What type of mistakes do you mean?
NYCgirl224: Our fights have gotten physical a few times. My BF’s got a bad temper—it runs in his family.
Oracle: Has he hit you?
NYCgirl224: Yeah, but it doesn’t happen often. Just when I make him really angry. And my family judges him on that, like he’s beating me up every day or something. You can’t blame him. He had a really screwed-up childhood.
Oracle: It sounds like your family is afraid for you. Do you think it’s okay that he sometimes hits you?
NYCgirl224: No. I’m not stupid. But sometimes he can’t help it. He’s working on his anger issues. He says he’s going to get counseling.
Oracle: It’s not your job to stick by him while he gets help. It’s not acceptable for him to hit you—not even once. Let him work out his own problems.
NYCgirl224: *Groan* You sound like my parents. Are you really a teen?
Oracle: I am. But I strongly feel that anyone who hits you has lost his right to be your BF.
NYCgirl224: You just don’t understand, Oracle. No one does.
She disconnects. It’s the first time a client has ever hung up on me. Did she really think I would support her in staying with her boyfriend? Usually I try to be diplomatic, but I couldn’t this time.
Talk about perspective on my situation. A breakup isn’t so bad compared with having an abusive boyfriend.
I hope I’ll hear from her again, but I doubt it. I can only hope she comes to her senses before it’s too late.
That night, as I lie in bed, I can’t stop thinking about it: the moment I fell in love with Jared. The moment I knew that my feelings weren’t just a trick of teenage hormones, but the real thing.
It was back in January. The school day had just ended, and Jared and I were getting our stuff from our lockers when we saw a crowd gathering in the hallway. We went over to see what was going on, and saw idiot jock Declan McCall giving Evgeney Vraslov a wedgie as a bunch of people cheered him on. Evgeney’s glasses had skidded off on the floor, and his face was bright red with humiliation.
Jared dropped his book bag, strode up to Declan and grabbed the collar of his shirt, hoisting him backward. Evgeney dropped to the floor, and Declan stumbled. A hush came over the crowd. No one could believe that someone would dare challenge Declan.
“What the hell?” Declan glared at Jared, rubbing his neck where his collar had bit into it. “You promised me a wedgie, Dec.”
Now no one, I mean no one, called Declan “Dec,” apparently due to his dislike of being compared to patio furniture. Since Declan was a little slow, it took him a few seconds to realize that now he was the one who looked like a jackass in front of everyone.
Declan got up in Jared’s face. I felt my heart pumping with fear. He was big and brawny and had made mincemeat of plenty of guys on the football field. A ripple of excitement went through the crowd as everyone braced for Declan to throw a punch. Several guys started chanting, “Fight!”
Jared held his ground. Didn’t even flinch. I realized that although Declan was the bigger guy, Jared had something far more dangerous. He had a quiet, deadly confidence about him. A please take a shot at me because I’m just dying to hand you your ass look in his eye that made Declan stop in his tracks.
After a few tense moments, Declan turned and walked away. The crowd, revved up for a fight, erupted in boos.
If ever there was a romantic hero, it was Jared at that moment. He was a guy who’d known trouble in the past—had even been in juvie—and wanted nothing more than to avoid it now. But he’d put himself on the line for Evgeney.
How could I not have fallen in love with him?
two
Sunday night is Glamour Girl night for me and my friends. It’s our favorite show about rich, spoiled teens and their world of brand names, booze and love triangles. As usual, we’re in Viv’s basement in Park Slope. Some might think we’re a strange mix because we’re all so different. Viv, who’s from a strict Indian home, is an honors student. Amy is a blonde bombshell who’s always looking for a party. Ryan is a metrosexual—a guy who isn’t afraid to add frosty blond tips to his hair and doesn’t mind being compared to Ryan Seacrest. Sharese is a church-going debate-club member who’s never shy about sharing her opinion. As for me, I’m not sure, but I think I’m the one in the middle who brings their different personalities together. I’m also the Oracle of Dating, of course, but Viv is the only one who knows that (and I’d like to keep it that way).
I break the news. There’s dead silence for two seconds. Then…
Viv: “That jerk!”
Ryan: “Good-for-nothing ass clown!”
Sharese: “May all his Jonas Brothers hair fall out!”
Amy: “You’re way better-looking than him anyway.”
At that, I’m slightly comforted, even though I know it’s not true.
“We always thought he was weird,” Sharese says.
“You did?”
They all nod.
“He was too quiet,” Viv says. “It was kind of creepy sometimes.”
“He didn’t know how to dress,” Ryan points out.
I’m surprised by their reaction. I thought they liked Jared. “If you guys didn’t like him, you should’ve told me.”
“It’s not that we didn’t like him,” Sharese says. “We just thought he was weird.”
“No offense, Kayla,” Ryan says, “but you weren’t much fun when you were with him. You never went to parties.”
He’s right about that. Jared preferred that we spend time on our own, and I was happy to just hang out with him. I have to admit, parties mostly lost their appeal because I already had a guy and didn’t need to meet one.
“You’ll find someone else—don’t worry.” Amy smiles. “Maybe a guy on the soccer team?” Amy’s boyfriend, Chad, is on the soccer team, and Amy is a huge fan of the team’s, um, man power.
Viv turns to Amy. “Don’t pressure her to find another guy right away. She needs time to discover herself again.”
“Self-love, huh?” Amy smiles wickedly.
Viv’s eyes flash. “You’re such a perv!”
I laugh. I’m glad I have my friends. Too many girls make the mistake of drifting apart from their friends when they’re in a relationship—a mistake the Oracle always warns people against. Thank goodness I followed my own advice. I need my friends so much right now.
“What you deserve is a hot stone massage,” Ryan says. “Total pampering, total relaxation.”
“I can’t afford that, but I’ll do a mani and pedi.”
Ryan looks skeptical. “That’s all you ever do. You need to work more shifts at the Hole and save some money.”
The Hole, short for Hellhole, is Eddie’s Grocery, where Ryan and I work. I have three four-hour shifts a week and that’s enough for me. My greatest dream is to make enough money as the Oracle of Dating to be able to quit.
“No spa day is worth more time at Eddie’s.” I pick up the remote control.
Amy grabs it from me. “No, wait! Glamour Girl doesn’t start for five minutes and we need to hear more about the breakup. How did he do it?”
“What do you mean, how? He just did it. Over pizza.”
“Did he at least wait until you were finished eating?” Ryan asks.
“No. I was still on my first slice. But I forgot to leave money, so I guess he paid.”
“Damn straight, he should pay!” Sharese says.
“So how did he say it?” Amy asks.
“He said he needed to take a step back and figure stuff out.”
They all wince as if they’ve popped sour candies into their mouths. What Jared said was cliché and we all know it. Taking a step back is the same as needing space or a time-out. It’s almost as bad as “we’ve become different people.” Lots of my clients have had those lines thrown at them and the cliché seems to add to the insult. But then, what’s a guy to say? I’m not attracted to you anymore? You bore me?
“Was that it?” Viv asks. “Is that his only reason?”
“He’s really disappointed about not getting an art scholarship. He somehow blames it on being too into me and not focusing enough on his goals.”
“Maybe he’s trying to punish himself by breaking up with you,” Viv offers.
“Too into you?” Sharese says. “What crap.”
The others agree that it was a lame thing to say. The stupid part of it was, I believed him. But I guess he was just trying to save my pride. Maybe he thought it was kinder to tell me he’d been too into me than not into me enough.
It doesn’t help when Ryan says, “I’m sorry to say this, but he probably met another girl.”
Sharese elbows him. “Nice job upsetting her.”
“Ouch!” He rubs his ribs. “Well, it’s true. It’s better if we prepare her for it.”
“I believe him that there’s no one else, but there could be another girl soon, I know that.” Or would there? If he said he needs to take a step back, wouldn’t that apply to all girls? Maybe not. If I believe that, I’ll be deluding myself.
“You can find someone, too,” Amy says. “A rebound can be a beautiful thing.”
The red numbers on the clock read 12:27 a.m., but I’m nowhere near sleep. I can think of nothing but rebounding.
REbounding.
ReBOUNDING.
I get out of bed and switch my desk light and computer on. I look up rebounding on an online dictionary.
1: To spring or bounce back after hitting something.
2: To recover from a disappointment.
The first definition is a lot more fun. I don’t want to “recover” I want to bounce back. Jared is the wall I’m bouncing off. I’m going to bounce off, do a back flip and land in the arms of a cute guy.
I’m aware of what’s happening to me. It’s textbook for someone who’s been dumped. A void has opened up in my life and I am looking for the quickest way to fill it: what better way than with another guy? Textbook or not, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s not like I’m going to fill it with drugs or alcohol.
Come to think of it, I wrote something on rebounding a while ago. I search my archives, and find a blog from last November.
You Know You’re Rebounding If You:
are too embarrassed to tell your friends you’re dating someone new because they’ll say it’s too soon.
believe that dating someone else will prevent you from thinking about your ex.
keep thinking of how your ex would feel if he spotted you with your new date (in fact, you hope he will).
The Rebound Equation:
Calculate the number of days you were together and divide it by 8.
Add 30 days if you are the dumpee.
Subtract 20 days if you are the dumper.
Add 30 days if you fantasize about getting back together.
Subtract 20 days if you believe the breakup is for the best, even if you were the one dumped.
= ___ days before you should enter into another relation ship.
I grab a calculator. Jared and I were together for five months, three weeks and two days, for a total of 173 days. 173 divided by 8 is 22. He dumped me, so I add 30 days. I add another 30 days because, damn it, I have fantasized about getting back together. Do I believe it’s for the best? No!
Total number of days before I can start dating someone else: 82. No way!
Maybe I should reconsider my answers. Did he really dump me? Undoubtedly. Do I fantasize about getting back together? Yes. Is it for the best? Ha! That’s where I put the wrong answer. If Jared wanted to break up then, of course, it’s for the best. It can’t be anything but for the best. I should have answered yes.
I subtract 20, which leaves my total at 62 days.
62 days—that’s two months! That means I won’t be able to date anyone until the middle of May. What was I thinking when I made up the equation? I’m sixteen; I don’t have two months to waste!
Of course, I don’t have to take my own advice.
By the time I get to school on Monday, the breakup is headline news.
Midwood High School is where Brooklyn gamer kids, gangster kids, emo kids and normal kids (me and my friends) collide in a maze of gray hallways. You can hear a dozen different languages in the cafeteria on any given day, not to mention the fact that we have tons of clubs representing diverse nationalities, religions, interests and sexual orientations.
Everybody is tormenting me with questions about the breakup. I can’t tell everyone the truth, can I? Thankfully, my friends have already put out the official version of events, and I stick to the story. The official version: Jared and I mutually parted because we’ve been drifting apart and (Amy added this part) I wanted to see other people.
I know that Jared won’t contradict it. He isn’t the type to make me look bad. This is the same guy who briefly dated the most popular girl in school, Brooke Crossley, and tricked her into dumping him so he wouldn’t have to hurt her feelings.
Speaking of Brooke, she tracks me down in the hallway after first period and plies me with questions—like she has a right to know! Why does she care anyway? She’s back with the king of the jocks, Declan McCall.
“So what really happened?” Brooke demands.
“What do you mean?”
“With you and Jared. Come on, you dumped him, right?”
“Ah…it was pretty mutual.”
“Was he an asshole to you?” She has the nerve to put an arm around me. Puh-lease. We’ve never been anywhere close to friends.
“He wasn’t an asshole to me.”
“Were you an asshole to him?”
“No.”
She grimaces. Obviously this isn’t as cut-and-dried as she’d hoped. “Then why’d you break up?”
“We grew apart.”
“Grew apart? So you don’t think, like, he’s a total loser?”
“No. I’ve got nothing bad to say about him.”
She looks crestfallen. I’m almost sorry I can’t give her a better story. Then she tosses her hair and walks off.
It would have been the perfect opportunity to get revenge on Jared, but I just couldn’t do it. If he starts trash-talking me, then I suppose I should do the same to him. But that’s not Jared. And that’s not me either. I admit that part of me would love to hurt him the way he’s hurt me, but I can’t. Sure, I could start some drama, but there wouldn’t be a point. I can’t break his heart if he’s not still in love with me.
At least the official version leaves my ego intact. It makes it seem like I was restless, like I’d had enough of one guy. But the truth is, sticking with one person suits me. When I was with Jared, I didn’t want to be with anyone else.
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