Page 19 of Come Break My Heart Again

We never followed each other on social media, and I didn’t look her up in the time I was gone because that would have made everything a whole lot harder. Now, seeing her in person, I sorta wish I had. I’ve been staring at her for too long, same as I did outside of the History classroom earlier.

“From Mr. Anderson.” Elle takes one final step, leaving a couple of feet of space between us, holding a green folder out to me.

Rather than saythanks, I ask, “Why do you have it?”

I’m an asshole like that.

“He asked me to give it to you.” She pushes her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pulling the hair away from her face and pinning me in place with a hard stare.

“Why you?”

Elle holds my gaze. “You know why.”

Her taste in guys might have changed, but she’s still every teacher’s favorite student.

I flip the folder open to find it filled with study-guide materials and a flyer advertising the tutoring center’s services. My jaw works. Yeah, same school. Everyone expects the best from her. The worst from me.

“I don’t need extra help.” There’s an edge to my tone that has everything to do with my exasperation with this school after one day and nothing to do with her.

I’m embarrassed, though, that she’s the one witnessing this. It’s the first fucking day. Anderson couldn’t even give me a chance to keep up?

I’m not expecting her to take the folder from me, so it slips through my fingers easily. Elle rifles through the papers. A wrinkle appears on her forehead as she scans the sheets. Then, she shuts the folder and rips it clean in two. Tosses the torn pieces back to me.

“You’re welcome,” she says.

I don’t mean to smile. But I know I am. I can feel the stretch in my cheeks.

The words are right there, waiting on the tip of my tongue.I missed you. Istillmiss her, even while she’s standing in front of me, knowing that I fucked up everything between us.

I never expected to have this opportunity. I thought any conversation we had would consist of her laughing in my face or looking right through me. Thought I’d be a blip so far in the past that she’d barely remember me.

Elle’s looking at me like she remembers everything.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is impulsive, but I mean the words. Mean them as much as everything else I ever told her. I hope she can hear the sincerity.

Elle says nothing in response. She’s barely blinking. No reaction. I might as well have not spoken at all.

I try again. “Elle, I …”

She moves, her spin graceful and her posture perfect as she walks away from me. Back toward her large group of admirers, most of whom are staring this way. No doubt wondering why she was talking to me.

That went well.

Tucker is sitting in the driver’s seat when I reach his truck, tapping his fingers against the door.

“Sorry for the delay,” I say, climbing in the passenger side.

“Forget your way around?” Tuck asks. His gaze immediately focuses on the ripped papers I’m holding, one eyebrow rising.

“Nah. Medina stopped me after gym. He wants to draft me for the team.”

“You going to play?”

“Of course not.”

Although taking the starting quarterback spot from Hathaway is a lot more tempting after discovering he’s dating Elle. I wouldn’t hate watching her cheer for me either.

“Why not?” Tuck asks.

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