The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  “I will.” I shooed him off, shaking my head at his silly antics.

  And that is exactly what I did. I thought about what Mamie said. What Will said. And what I felt

  It was about time I faced Chris. It was time to do something or walk away, just like Will had said. No more avoidance, no more hiding.

  I continued to think, all through the reception, the formal dinner and dancing, and all weekend, before I returned back to Berkeley to start the fall semester.

  Whatever the outcome, I was about to make a move that would mean the end of life as I knew it.

  Not that I was being dramatic, or anything.

  -Chapter 2-

  Life as I knew it was officially over.

  Not kidding.

  I was back at campus and had been pumped to see Chris. I’d gotten in on time Sunday night to catch up with Haley, my roomie and best friend, besides Chris. We’d been sharing a dorm room for two years now, and she was golden. She had an uncanny ability of sensing when I needed space or being there for me when I needed it.

  She’d listened to my plan and had been totally on board with it. In hindsight, my plan really hadn’t been a plan at all. I’d decided to go to the coffee shop, the one where Chris worked, wait for him to get a break, and confess everything. I was convinced now that Imogen, his British girlfriend, was out of the picture, I stood a real chance.

  Wrong! On so many levels, wrong.

  I’d gotten up extra early because I couldn’t sleep. Haley had helped me braid my long hair, and I’d donned my clear lip gloss—the extent of my entire makeup routine. I was feeling kind of nervous, but also confident.

  Okay, maybe I’d felt a lot nervous; not only did I have flutters in my belly, it had felt like a circus was going on in there, ready to burst out at any minute. But I plastered my calm mask on anyway and walked slightly faster than usual to my destination. One big gulp of air and a strong mental pat on the back before I opened the door, and I was good to go.

  Sadly, I almost dropped down, then and there, in a complete and pathetic mess. Chris stood right in front of me. Well, maybe more like Chris stood behind the counter, leaning over, sucking the face off some redhead with a skirt way too short for the length of those legs. I must have let some of my complete and utter horror escape my lips, because they pulled apart and turned directly toward me. The leggy redhead stared, her eyes wide. The tips of Chris’s ears turned red. That happened whenever he got embarrassed. I knew this. I was his best friend. But he soon hid it with a big smile as he came out from behind the counter and grabbed a hold of the girl’s hand and walked over.

  “Hey, Abby. You’re back.” He pulled me into a big hug, smothering me and effectively hiding the tears stinging my eyes. Bless that small mercy; it gave me a second to plaster my signature smooth expression onto my face and confront my worst fate ever with the composure I needed. All the while, inside I felt like my heart was breaking in a million pieces ten times over.

  “I’m back,” I choked, the moment my voice regained its usual strength.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for days. What with the wedding and everything, we kept missing each other’s calls.”

  Chris was being kind. He had called. I had ignored his calls and not returned them. I had needed time to sort out what I was going to do. Clearly, he’d called to share his great news.

  I was such an idiot.

  “Looks like I missed quite a bit.” I pasted on a fake smile, raising my brows and pushing my glasses up on the bridge of my nose. I glanced at the leggy redhead, giving her the once-over. She had that sweet, wholesome look. Long, red hair. A good dose of freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and nose. Bright-green eyes. And that innocent look that made me skeptical. Not that I didn’t trust people. I was just a realist by nature. And I didn’t have many girlfriends. Too many mean girls in high school had taught me the hard way that looks can be deceiving and it’s best to stay away. I could not believe Chris was letting one of the pretty ones put her hooks into him. Again. Had he not learned his lesson with Imogen? The British beauty that didn’t want to get tied down to a guy in a long-distance relationship.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Abby. Chris has told me so much about you.” The redhead held her hand out, and I stared at it for a beat too long.

  I finally placed my hand in hers and was surprised by the firm handshake she gave me. “Sorry to say, Chris has told me nothing about you.” It was a petty thing to say, but I wasn’t feeling generous. “Well,” I started. “I better get going. Got a class to get to.” I turned to make a run for it, but Chris interrupted me.

  “But, don’t you have another half hour?” His brows pulled down as he ran a hand through his hair, causing his blond-brown wavy tresses to poke out in all directions. I both loved and hated when he did that. It had always made me yearn to reach out and fix his mushed-up hair. The movement now distracted me, but only for a second. When the leggy redhead did just what I had spent four years dreaming of, I snapped out of my little daze.

  What had Chris been talking about? Class. Of course, he was right. And of course he knew. Stupid me had e-mailed him my schedule when I got it. How typical of him to know my schedule as well as I knew it. I still had plenty of time. But no way in this lifetime was I spending another minute with these two lovebirds. I needed to get out of here before I showed any form of emotion and the whole disaster came pouring out in a big, fat ugly pool of tears and snot. Graphic, yes, but the truth, nonetheless.

  “I need to meet up with my lab partner,” I fibbed, as I turned on my heel and sprinted out of there. Their confused faces were the last clear thing I saw before the tears came in a steady stream. I walked as fast as I could and as far away as my legs would carry me before emotion nearly brought me to my knees. Spotting a free bench, I collapsed and gave into the breakdown. Sobs raked through my body as I kept seeing their kiss over the counter and Chris’s goofy, happy grin.

  Realization hit hard. The woman Chris had chosen wasn’t me. Again. What was wrong with me?

  I sat there for what felt like forever, until I checked the time and realized I had five minutes to make it across campus to the chemistry labs for my first lab of the day and of this semester. I couldn’t be late. Prof. Jones was a stickler for students being late in her class. And I wanted to partner up with the right person for the semester. Everyone knew that one lab table off to the right in Prof. Jones’s lab had a sketchy Bunsen burner and a squeaky chair. My partner from last semester was studying abroad this semester, and I didn’t want a partner that didn’t put in the work or the effort.

  I raced as fast I could and got there one minute late. Professor Jones raised her brows over the rims of her glasses but didn’t say anything. Small mercy. As I suspected, the only table left was the one I dreaded. At least I was the only one to take it up. That left me without a lab partner, but I could live with that.

  “Ah, Mr. Davis. Late, as usual.” Professor Jones’s words interrupted my thoughts, and my heart sunk. I knew I shouldn’t, but I looked up, because clearly I was one of those people that liked to watch the accident unfold in front of my eyes.

  Without a care in the world and his backpack slung over his right shoulder, Shane Davis strolled in as if he still had minutes to spare, instead of making up for the two minutes he was already late. In the two years I’d been here in the M.E.T., Shane had yet to show up on time to a single class we’d shared together.

  “Please take the last available seat, Mr. Davis, and get settled. We’re already late, due to your tardy entrance. No point in losing even more precious lab time.”

  Shane started pulling things out of his backpack, but I just dropped my head on the table, having my second meltdown of the day, and it wasn’t even nine yet.

  This couldn’t be happening. Why would fate do this to me? Did some power in the universe hate me so much that they would pair me up with Shane Davis on the day my heart had just been ripped out of my chest and shre
d into a million little pieces, while a tribe of monkeys peed and danced around on said pieces? I know, dramatic much? But this was my life, and here I was, living said graphic picture just painted. Yes, no kidding.

  I let out a groan, for the second time that day.

  Shane spun on his seat, and I could feel his eyes on me.

  “What’s up with you?” His voice sounded bright and chipper. Not at all in line with my current state of mind.

  “What’s it to you?” I growled.

  “Hello! We are partners.” Again with that happy tone. It was grating on the last nerve I had left intact.

  “Don’t say that.” I tried to keep my voice calm. Even. I didn’t think I was very successful.

  “Um. It’s the truth.” Shane laughed.

  “That doesn’t mean I want to hear it. And stop laughing. It isn’t funny.” I wasn’t always this grumpy. Not that I was sunny and bright, either. I was just somewhere in between. And I was comfortable there.

  “Oh, I see.” Sarcasm laced Shane’s words.

  “What? What does that mean, I see?” I opened my eyes wide, training them on him. “Are you some kind of Yoda or something? You have this amazing ability to see something I don’t see?” I adjusted my glasses.

  “No.” Shane kept his features neutral. “It means you’re just one of those girls who doesn’t want to face the truth. You like to live in denial.” I didn’t know Shane. Not on a personal level. We’d shared a couple of classes and labs together in the last two years. I knew he wasn’t as serious about his studies as I was. He was always late. And he was always flirting with someone. Not me, though. Guys never took notice of the nerdy girl in glasses that had her nose buried in a book.

  “Wow. And you’re one of those guys who loves to judge.” I know. The whole pot and kettle expression, but I was spot-on about Shane. He was one of those guys that reminded me of my cousin, Will. Same womanizing powers and tall build. Probably six-two. Except Shane had dark, wavy hair and bright-green eyes. Ugh. Why did the green eyes keep following me around today?

  “No. Let’s not make this about me. We were talking about you.” Even his voice oozed confidence in that I’m-so-sexy-look-at-me kind of way. I’d pegged him a player the first day I’d laid eyes on him. It didn’t help that he’d flirted with me. But then Sarah Thompson walked in, and he’d gotten distracted. He was the type of guy a girl like me could never take seriously.

  “No, let’s get back to you. That seems more interesting at present.” I sat up straighter in my seat and turned my full attention on Shane, studying him as if he were an equation I hadn’t figured out yet.

  “I know.” Shane smirked, and my hand itched to reach out and slap that smirk off his face. At least once. And then maybe again. Just to be sure I’d gotten through the first time. You could never be too careful about those things. “Is your heart beating faster just thinking about being my partner?”

  “Oh, please.” I shook my head. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  “Let’s get back on topic here. You’re clearly in denial.”

  “And what makes you such an expert on women?” The moment the words were out, I wished I could retract them. Swallow up my little word eruption. There were so many ways I could have phrased that question without it sounding so suggestive.

  Shane leaned in closer and waggled his brows. “Do you even need to ask?”

  “You know those type of lines only work on a certain type of woman, right?” I pushed my black-framed glasses further up on the bridge of my nose.

  “Don’t say that. It makes you sound bitter. And you don’t strike me as the bitter type.”

  “Really? Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that astute analysis.” I really did sound bitter. But Shane had no idea that today I’d had the final punch dealt to my fragile frame of mind, and I was now completely falling apart.

  “So, what has you in denial and in this ridiculously sunny mood today?” Shane spoke in that same sarcastic tone.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I sulked, opening my chemistry book and pointing my pen to the presentation Professor Jones was explaining to the class. We’d missed about four slides already. I didn’t want to lag behind anymore.

  “Get to work,” the professor announced, and I grumbled. Not only was I paired up with this moron for the semester, I was starting with a delay in my first lab. I’d have to read the first few pages to catch up on what the professor had just explained to figure out what we needed to do.

  “Start reading. Unless you’re such a multitasker you already know what we need to be doing.”

  I felt his eyes on me again.

  “Well? You know what we need to do?”

  “No.” He had that silly grin on his face.

  “Get started, then.” I grumbled, turning the first page. “If we don’t get this done in time, we’ll be here in our free time, making this up.”

  Shane just shook his head and started reading, his annoying chuckle making my hands ball into fists.

  -Chapter 3-

  The door of my apartment building slammed with a little too much force as I left. It was Friday night, and I was on my way to make up my first lesson. This has never happened to me—needing to make up a lab, or any other class, for that matter. But Shane Davis had never happened to me, either. Chris finding a new girlfriend, sadly, wasn’t something new. Unfortunately, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

  I guess it made me an even bigger loser that I’d planned to make up this lab on a Friday night. The sole comfort I felt was that I’d told Shane the only time I could make up the lab this weekend was on Friday night. He’d told me he had a date and he’d have to reschedule that, but I had no qualms with that arrangement. If it hadn’t been for his insistent questioning on Monday, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

  I walked toward the chemistry building, not really paying attention as I held my phone and browsed Instagram. Chris had gone Instagram official earlier this week when he posted a pic of him and Evie Hamilton captioned with three heart emojis and the words one for each week—ugh! The pic was kind of cute in a sickly-sweet way. It was a selfie of both of them with megawatt smiles—How did Chris even know how to smile that broad?— as they gazed into each other’s eyes. It made the beef burrito I’d had for dinner turn sour in my stomach. Chris and I used to laugh about people who did stuff like this. In the months he’d dated Imogen, he’d maybe posted three or four pictures of them online. Okay, four pictures. I knew. I was that sad girl that knew more about the content of his social media page than he probably did. Did that make me sad?

  Maybe.

  Probably.

  Fine. It made me completely pathetic.

  But love could drive a person to all kinds of ridiculous things. Like apparently conjuring up the object of your obsession.

  It was too late in the day to blame the mirage on the sun. I blinked. If this was truly my mind playing tricks on me and summoning up Chris, I doubted it would make him appear with Evie glued to his lips, her arms wrapped around him and his hands wandering very low down to her butt. I didn’t even know Chris was that handsy with his dates. Or girlfriends, in this case. Curse you, Insta, for bursting my little bubble of hope and sharing it with the whole world to see.

  I did the only thing I was good at with Chris, the default modus I retreated to where he was concerned: I ignored and averted. Curse the universe and fate for loving me that much. Right as I walked past them, they decided to come up for air. I guessed in a way, I understood. I had no idea how long they had been there in that passionate lip-locking pose; they were bound to break apart at some point, if only to keep things PG-rated. But could they not have waited fifteen more seconds? I was almost home free.

  “Abby!” Chris’s lust-filled voice boomed way too loudly in the evening air. Okay, maybe I was no expert on lust. I’d never had a guy lusting after me, as far as I knew. But assuming he was lust-filled kept anger at the top of the emotional turmoil threatening to explode, instead of hurt an
d pain. I could handle anger. But no way was I crying in front of Chris and his Evie. Regardless of their three hundred and fifty-three likes on their Insta pic.

  “Chris. Evie.” I matched his tone, forcing my lips to curve up in a tight-lipped smile. I was afraid if I showed any kind of teeth it might resemble more of a grimace.

  “Right. Evie. Have I properly introduced you two?” Chris pushed his unruly hair off his face, and my eyes followed his hand for a beat. How many times had I dreamt of being privy to that? Or fixing the glasses that tended to slouch on his nose. Or… I shook my head and returned to the conversation.

  I held up my phone, the screen dark now, but shook it nonetheless. “Insta doesn’t miss a thing.” My bitter tone was missed on these two lovebirds.

  “I’ve got to run. Chem lab.” I started to walk away, but Chris called out. And because I was a sucker for pain, I turned back and paused.

  “On a Friday night?” Chris’s face scrunched up in confusion.

  “Yep. Makeup lab.” I didn’t elaborate. No need for them to know about my little mental breakdown after meeting Evie at the coffee shop.

  “We need to meet up properly. Hang out. You need to get to know Evie.” Chris looked hopeful.

  “Yeah.” I nodded my head. Sure, I would. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend time with the man of her dreams, while he made out with someone else? Yeah, that would be a hard pass.

  I didn’t wait around for Chris to offer up any suggestions. With extra determination, I stomped off to my appointment with Shane, trying to hang on to my anger all the way there.

  Entering our lab, I sat at my favorite table. The one I had occupied my previous semesters here at M.E.T., and pulled all my stuff out. I checked the time and noticed I was actually one minute late, again. Thank you, Chris and Evie. What peeved me off even more was that Shane was nowhere to be seen. And I hadn’t even thought to add his number to my phone so I could text him to find out when he would show up.