The Scars on My Wrists (Nanowrimo 2013)

After struggling with depression and a suicide attempt, Marie decides to take a Gap Year to Italy and Spain. She falls in love, and more importantly, changes her entire life.
Edited for movellas, in its poorly written state. R rated for lots of swearing, cutting, and sexual language. TW: (recollection of) sexual assault, cutting

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16. Chapter 16

Holy hell! It was Jandro. I snuck a look out of the corner of my eye, and there he was, in all his glory. A tsunami wave of emotions overswept me. Jandro singing to me, cradling me in his arms, making love to me, a million memories in one voice. Shaking, I tapped away at my keyboard, trying to ignore the fact that he was only a couple of feet away from me. Fuck. I guess he came back to Penn after all, I thought. Too late for me. Guess he broke up with me for nothing, the asshole. And I can't believe I forgot that Penn students and Drexel students share this Starbucks! I thought bitter thoughts about him, when in reality my heart was flopping and begging him to notice me and at the same time begging him to ignore me. I made a mental note to go to the one on the east side of campus.

    Don't notice me, don't notice me, yes PLEASE notice me. I turned my head slightly to catch a better look, and I caught him staring right at me. Fuck. Caught.

    "M-marie?" He whispered it. In an alternate universe I would have burst into song, with a 

    "Yes it is I, the Marie you dumped and said you were doing it for my own good," and laughed my way out of that Starbucks and transferred universities and never ever seen his no-good, bastard, ratty, gorgeous, devastatingly handsome features ever ever again.

    But instead I stayed calm and smiled cooly, not showing any of my nerves. I hoped.

    "Hi Jandro." Wow, my heart was beating really fast. "I see you decided to come back to Penn after all," I threw in for good measure. Wow, I was really being barbed. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned though, right? And he did dump me. After I opened up to him and gave him everything I had, he turned around with a whole

    "I don't think this will work out, it's not you it's me" spiel. Not to mention getting in a relationship just one week after dating me.

    "We have to talk," he said, still looking confused and shocked, and there I was again getting lost in his eyes, his amazingly gorgeous eyes. Oh god. It would be too easy just to go running back into his arms, knowing him.

    "I don't think your new girlfriend would appreciate that," I said, frostily. He winced.

    "She was just a rebound. I dated her for three days before I ended things with her-"

    "I can't believe," I yelled, "that a fricking week after you give me a whole song and dance about breaking up with me for my own good, and how you love me and you care, you just go out with another girl like it's nothing. And you didn't even have the cajones to break up with me in person, you- you puto!" I can see pain in his eyes now. Good. He should hurt for all those nights I cried over him. I'm in full on rage mode, shaking. I have never been this angry in my life. I have never reacted like this in my life.

    "I'm sorry," interrupted a manager, "but you're going to have to leave. You're disturbing our customers." I didn't care. I packed up my things, and tossed the rest of the coffee in the trash.

    "You want to talk? Follow me, big boy, we'll talk."

    Silently, he follows me to a park.

    "I'm sorry," I mutter suddenly feeling regret. "I was really rude to you in there. I've been frustrated for a while."

    "It's ok," he said quietly, taking a sip of coffee. "I deserve it. I broke your heart after all."

    We are silent for a moment and I'm reminded of that time when I was afraid to tell him how I felt so all I could do was sleep in his arms and enjoy that and hope and dream.

    "After you broke up with me, I got strong," I said proudly. "I learned to fend for myself. I made a couple of friends on my own. I was happy."

    "That's good," he said. "I'm glad that you didn't waste time thinking about me."

    "Au contraire, my friend," I said, in a mock-joke voice laced with bitter poison. "I thought about you all the time. Your lullaby helped me through countless panic attacks, helped me breath and concentrate on breathing. And I remembered how you made me feel beautiful. And I went from there. I found happiness. But I missed you like crazy."

    He inhaled air softly.

    "I missed you too. I've been wandering around Drexel during Orientation week, wondering if I'd find you, if I'd bump into you. Little did I know you'd be here at Penn, right under my very nose." He paused.

    "You blocked me from Skype and Facebook. I didn't know your email and I couldn't call you to tell you that I'd made a mistake. I sorted through everything and realized that I loved medicine. This is what I was born to do. But by the time I realized what an idiot I'd been, it was too late. You were gone and unreachable. I felt like I'd ruined everything."

    "You did," I pointed out. "I never got to tell you because you were so thickheaded. I didn't care what you wanted to be or where you would be living or where you would be going to school. I loved you despite all that."

    "Loved?" His eyes are questioning and full of pain, as though I've just kicked a puppy. I grit my teeth and gird my loins, whatever that means.

    "Yes. Loved. I loved  you. I don't love you. I moved on, Jandro. I had to, to survive. I couldn't cry over you every night, not when I saw you with another girl only a week after. Too hard. I needed to heal."

    "Do you think you can love me again?"

    In my mind I shout, YES! I love you. I will always love you.

    "I don't know. Not if you think that breaking up with me to save me from myself is the best course of action without consulting me."

    "Marie, look, I get it. I was an idiot. I was scared and a coward and too stupid to see that everything I wanted was right in front of my ugly nose the entire time. But I cannot live without you. I've tried for six months, believe me, I've tried hard. And every time I go back to that day in Granada, with you in my arms and that was the day that I truly knew happiness. I would do anything to get it back-"

    "Ew, you mean you want to get my body back. Not interested." I started walking off.

    "Wait." I turned around as Jandro speaks. "If you're truly done, done forever, just give me one kiss, one last kiss. We didn't have that."

    "Partially because you broke up with me on Skype," I point out, but he waves away my words with his hands and a plea in his eyes. "Oh, alright." I rolled my eyes, and kissed him there in the park, with the autumn leaves changing red and it was perfect. It was like I was falling in love all over again and that kiss was the start of something new, except it was really the end, and I couldn't help myself. I started crying again.

    "Why are you crying, amor," he murmured, inches from my lips.

    "I love you," I choked out. "You're killing me. Absolutely killing me. You're making me bleed without a knife. You're-" He silenced me with another kiss, one that seared my lips with heat.

    I took a step back.

    "Let's take this slow," I said quickly before I lost my senses entirely like an idiot. "I love you, yes. But I'm not sure I want to be with you." I held up a hand to stop him from protesting so that I could finish. "So we're going to do this on my terms. I propose a series of dates. Three dates, to be specific. If, at the end of those dates, I feel like I want to be with you, and you feel the same way, then we can do this. But I'm not the same girl I was six months ago. Just like you're not the same boy. So let's take it slow, ok?"

    He nodded eagerly.

    "Te amo con todo mi corazòn," he said and we walked our separate paths.

    I sighed. I still had to finish a ten page paper and I'd just lost my source of Java. And now instead of my thesis, my mind was full of Jandro. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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