Page 51 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Now when I look at the girl in the mirror, tears track down her cheeks. Her mouth hangs agape with horror at the revelation that she is like the abused animals. Afraid of her own shadow. Afraid of the hand that feeds her. Afraid. Her chin quivers with pent-up emotion. Her face is flushed with anger and fear and embarrassment.

I look that girl square in the eye. I stare long and hard until the fear begins to dissipate. Because I’ve seen how kind consideration can help repair a tattered soul.

When Dylan came along, I found him to be callous, conceited, and judgmental. But that was only the persona he’d adopted. Instead, I’ve witnessed how gentle, observant, and mindful he is. I swipe angrily at my tears and straighten. Dylan is kind and trustworthy, and I need to stop being afraid of that. I need to stop being afraid. Period.

As I turn away from the mirror, I deflate a little. The thought of inviting his friendship scares me to death. Opening myself like that would expose me and leave me vulnerable. I could get hurt. My heart isn’t strong enough to be broken again after being crushed multiple times a week already. I have Sam and Bek. I don’t need more friends. My future is slowly taking shape, and it doesn’t include Dylan. I turn back toward the mirror and find my shoulders hunched forward. I nod. Life is safer like this.

No matter how much Dylan might deserve my friendship, I can’t open myself up to the vulnerability of it. What if he forgets me as soon as his community service ends? The thought of the strength I’ll need to make it through another year at home is already more than I have, and I’m going to need more fortitude once Joel leaves. I can’t chance that I’ll open myself to Dylan only to hold a temporary place in his life.

I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes. I don’t want to see the girl in the mirror. The big, huge coward in the mirror.

Turning my back to the looking glass, I tug my phone from my pocket and text Sam, asking her to pick me up early. When the confirmation comes through, I sneak to the breakroom to grab my stuff. My heart is pounding as I anticipate Dylan walking in at any moment. I can’t face him right now. I feel raw.

With my bag over my shoulder, I push through to the lobby, and for the first time since I started volunteering at the shelter the day after my sixteenth birthday, I tell Chloe I’m not feeling well, and I practically run out the front door.

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