The Hearts We Break: A Sweet YA Romance (Young Love Book 4)

by Kylie Key

  Copyright © 2019 Kylie Key

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Author’s Note:

  The Hearts We Break

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  COLE

  CHAPTER 10

  COLE

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  COLE

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  EPILOGUE | AINSLEY

  Note from Kylie

  THE DREAMS WE SHARE

  Author’s Note:

  Name pronunciation: (Because the computer can get it wrong)!

  Selina - sometimes referred to as Sleena

  Trieste - Tree - est

  Malachi - Mal-a-key

  Dominique - Domma - neek

  Damon - Day-min

  Cassian - Cash - in

  The Hearts We Break

  He's rich

  He's arrogant

  He's broody

  He's my new next door neighbor

  Cole Parsons has an attitude problem

  He has no respect for our quiet neighborhood

  Holds noisy pool parties

  Drives recklessly

  But all is not what it seems

  He's hiding behind that bad boy image

  When he sees the pain he's caused

  He tries to make amends

  I want to help him...

  I don't count on falling for him

  Nothing good can ever come of it

  And the hearts we break might just be our own

  CHAPTER 1

  "See you later," I called to Mom, as I skipped down the front steps of our house, out to my little Lightning Blue Fiesta.

  I was running late, due to spending too much time checking my phone and had no time to wait around, her reply a muffled sound in the background. If it was important she'd text me. Meanwhile, I had a gig to get to. And a boy to meet.

  Ella, one of my best friends, was busking down at the promenade with Damon, her new boyfriend, and brother of my other best friend, Dominique. I turned the key, and hearing the car purr, double tapped the steering wheel. It was my show of gratitude to Doris, affectionately named by Ella, thanking her for starting the first time. If I was nice to Doris, I figured she'd be nice to me.

  I hated driving.

  Which was the worst possible thing for a girl in her senior year of high school.

  I'd delayed it long enough, the inconvenience of hassling my parents or friends for rides, or the frustration at waiting for unreliable public transport, finally making me bite the bullet. I'd gotten my permit on the first try, but that didn't mean I was confident about driving. Facing my fear of traffic was a constant stress in my life.

  Ella named my car Doris because it was the exact same type that her grandma owned—therefore, it was a Nana car. I knew it wasn't as cool as Trieste's convertible or Ainsley's Jeep, but it was easy to drive and being small, I could park it easily. Parking sent me into palpitations. So did reversing.

  I made my way down the driveway at a slow and steady pace, triple checking my mirrors, as George, my step-dad had taught me during my driver ed lessons. Well, he'd never said triple check, but surely three times was better than once.

  A big black vehicle turned into the driveway, continuing to move forward even though it could see that I was approaching it. I kept going, quite sure that in the next second it would realize I was almost at the street and it would need to back up.

  Its horn blasted, making me brake fully, my heartbeat quickening to dangerous levels. Why wasn't it reversing? I barely had twenty yards in front of me!

  The tinted windows meant I couldn't see the person or persons inside, but after two more sharp toots I had a sinking feeling that my gesturing hands were ineffective, and I was the one who was going to have to reverse.

  The black car inched menacingly closer to Doris. Knowing I had to protect her at all costs, I twisted my neck and shakily started the backwards journey. I covered about ten yards, turning back to see that the black car was bumper to bumper with me. The curve of the driveway, never a problem when going forward, loomed like an obstacle course. I turned the steering wheel slightly, steadily moving the car, coming perilously close to the fence. Doris didn't deserve to be scratched—she was a baby, only three months old. I braked, letting out a wavering breath. Gah...I hated driving so much!

  The black car pressed on the horn again. Who was this maniac? Didn't they know driveway etiquette—that the person furtherest along had the right of way? Had they never shared a driveway before? In the six years my family had lived here, we'd never had an issue with the Singhs. Too bad they'd moved out a month ago.

  I readjusted the steering wheel, crawling the final yards to the safety of Doris's parking spot where we'd been just minutes before, and as I shifted the gears, the black car accelerated sharply, screeching off to the right.

  I sat there for a few moments trying to ease my shaking hands, wondering if I should go inside and tell Mom about the idiot new neighbor. But glancing at the clock, I knew I wasn't going to make it to the start of Ella and Damon's show if I didn't get a move on.

  I found a parking spot far from the promenade. I didn't care about the fifteen minute walk, as long as I could depart easily later. Leaving the car, I checked that I hadn't scratched Doris's right side, and again gave her two taps.

  I arrived as Damon was doing introductions to the crowd. Damon was in his first year at college, but was home for Thanksgiving break. He and Ella were not only romantically involved, but were a songwriting and singing duo as well. I was excited to hear them play together. I was also excited to see if a certain boy was going to turn up.

  Michael Hayman sat somewhere behind me in psychology class. For that reason I wasn't sure if his eyes were blue or gray, but he had browny-blonde hair which he wore in a messy style and he had a super cute smile now that his braces had come off.

  Ainsley and I had given out flyers for Ella and Damon's gig in our psych class, and afterward Michael had come up to me and said, "So, what's all this about?"

  "Oh, it's Ella busking down at the promenade," I said, and word for word recited what was printed on the flyer that he was fluttering in my face.

  "Is she any good?"

  "Ella is crazy talented," I said, "and Damon, too. If you're not doing anything you should come along."

  I didn't mean anything specific by that statement; it was basically a sales pitch—the more people who came down to watch meant more exposure for their music.

  "So you're going to be there?" Michael asked, brushing his unruly hair out of his eyes.

  "Yes. Of course. I'm Ella's number one fan." Well, my whole group of friends were—Dominique, Trieste and Ainsley.

  "Okay," Michael said, "save me a spot then." And he'd flashed me a dazzling wide grin and left.

  I'd been completely shocked and found myself frozen in place. The next thing, Ainsley was waving a bunch of flyers at me, saying, "Come on, let's go."

  But I couldn't move. I was totally immobile. Like a car run out of gas.

  She grabbed my arm. "Let's go, Sleeeeen
a, we'll hand the rest out in the hallways."

  I bit down on my lower lip, and covered my mouth with my hand. "Ains," I croaked. "Ains, I think Michael might have asked me out."

  Ainsley gawked, her voice dropping to a whisper of disbelief. "What? Michael Hayman?"

  I nodded repeatedly, a smile creeping onto my face as Ainsley's eyes grew wider.

  "What did he say? What did he say?" she hissed into my ear.

  Michael Hayman wasn't in the league of Logan Newman, who Ainsley was dating. He didn't sit at the Number One table in the lunchroom, but he hung in the popular crowd of kids who surfed and skated and looked like they belonged at the beach. Being cute never hurt anybody's popularity.

  I spoke in a hushed voice. "He said to save him a spot. At Ella's gig."

  Ainsley's face dropped. Then sneered. "That's not a date," she said curtly.

  I lost all enthusiasm immediately, her harsh words cutting into my very heart. And soul.

  Way to make a girl feel two inches tall.

  My cheeks flushed and I rearranged my backpack on my shoulder.

  "Oh," I said, foolishly on the verge of tears. What did I know about boys? And words. And dates. Somehow, amongst our group of friends, I'd become the wallflower.

  Ella was dating Damon, Dominique had Malachi, a burns survivor she'd volunteered with at the hospital, Ainsley had Mr Popularity, Logan Newman, and Trieste, though not seeing anyone special, at least dated regularly, and had been to the football afterparty with Garrett Tosti. That night, I'd been to the movies with my Mom and little sister to see an animated fairytale.

  "It's not a date," Ainsley said, clutching at my arm, "but it's a potential date. Let's see, I think you should wear your little purple dress. That's so cute." She herded me out of the classroom. “And let's do something with your hair. Can we put another color through it? Like you had before?" It was a subtle way of saying the mushroom brown balayage I'd had over summer needed a redo.

  I didn't want to despise Ainsley, because she was a great friend. But it was hard not to resent her gorgeous blonde hair, clear skin, tanned legs, dance moves, top grades, popular boyfriend, social media followers, and her ability to parallel park a Jeep.

  "He probably won't even turn up," I mumbled.

  "Of course he will," Ainsley said. "He's always looking at you in class."

  I perked up momentarily, but realized Michael sat behind me—he saw me every time the teacher called attention.

  "Anyway, I'll be busy helping Ella and Damon. I said I'd help set up and sort their music papers." I waffled on, trying to keep the topic far away from Michael Hayman and The Imaginary Date.

  Well, none of that had happened—running late meant I had to edge my way through the growing crowd of spectators, seeking to give Ella an apologetic glance. Maybe if I wasn't such a wuss about driving, if I hadn't had to deal with an inconsiderate neighbor, or parked a mile away I could have made it on time.

  But Ella winked when our eyes connected and I let out a sigh of relief as I eased my way towards Dominique and Malachi. I was totally mesmerized by Ella and Damon's singing, so much so that when an arm nudged my shoulder, I was about to admonish someone for not taking care, only to look up to see Michael next to me.

  My heart flip flopped and I felt a silly smile creep on to my face. He leaned towards me and said something, but with the music so loud I couldn't hear, so I continued to smile and nod, hoping he hadn't asked me a question.

  There was thunderous applause when the song ended, and as Damon thanked everyone and introduced the next song, Michael tapped me and said, “Wow, they're good."

  "Yeah, aren't they?" I gushed. "Did you just arrive?"

  "Yeah, I couldn't see you at first," he said, "you need to grow a little taller."

  I looked down at my white, slightly grubby sneakers. "Guess I should have worn my high heels," I said with a nervous laugh. I hadn't worn my purple dress, nor colored my hair. I was in a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt and my naturally wavy hair, best described as medium brown, was held in place with copious amounts of styling mousse and hairspray.

  "Nah, you look great," Michael said.

  "Thanks. So do you." I felt my face heat up...who says that to a boy? I looked over to see if Dominique was hearing this riveting conversation, but thankfully she was talking to Malachi.

  Michael and I stood in awkward silence, then Ella picked up her violin.

  "Ooh, she's going to play her violin," I said, the most ridiculous and obvious comment ever uttered.

  "Yeah," Michael said.

  It was the most beautiful sound ever when Ella put her bow to the strings and Damon started beating on a drum. It was loud. And loud meant there could be no conversation.

  Michael and I had never talked before, other than a group discussion in class. I didn't know much about him. It was a crush based purely on looks. Would that be enough to initiate a relationship?

  I literally pinched myself on the arm—what on earth was I thinking? We were two classmates standing next to each other, listening to music, not in a marriage betrothal!

  CHAPTER 2

  Some of Michael's friends had joined him by the end of the set, and as Dominique had taken Malachi to sit down, I gravitated towards Ainsley, who was, of course, wrapped in the strong arms of Logan. I dreamily wondered what it would be like to be held by Michael, to nuzzle against his chest, to have his hand resting on my lower back.

  I'd only kissed one boy, and that was at the Halloween Dance in freshman year. Archer Fritz had been wearing a Dracula costume. Somehow, I had ended up dancing with him for the final three songs, and when the lights came on he'd taken out his fangs and planted a kiss smack on my lips. Dracula and Wonder Woman—an unlikely couple. I'd wanted to like it, and pretended I did. But I hadn't cared for Archer in his normal everyday clothes, much less dressed as a vampire.

  But he was a boy. And he'd liked me. And I'd been kissed. Which had been more than Ella or Dominique back then.

  It had been a relief when Archer moved away in the New Year.

  "So have you been talking to him?" Ainsley whispered, with a giggle and unsubtle glances across to Michael.

  "A little," I exaggerated. Three sentences. Three inept sentences.

  "He keeps looking over," Ainsley said, talking to me like I was six years old. "You should go back over."

  I shrugged. "I didn't know Ella could rap." There were a bunch of about six kids and a couple of them were girls. Ainsley was probably right—I'd misread the whole situation.

  "Wasn't she brilliant?" Ainsley beamed, "And Damon. Who knew he could sing?"

  I agreed, looking at my purse while Logan's lips rested on Ainsley's hair. "I think I'll put a few more dollars in the case," I said, moving away before their embrace heated up. Public displays of affection were embarrassing, unless you were actually participating, I guessed.

  "Hey, look at this," Ella said, as I rocked up to help her pack their instruments away. "A hundred dollar note!" She smoothed out a tightly rolled up bill.

  "Wow!" I said, "Well, it wasn't me. Here's my last couple of dollars. You were awesome."

  "Don't be silly," Ella waved my money away, making me put it back in my purse.

  "Wonder who gave that?" Damon said, studying it like he thought it might be counterfeit.

  "Trieste just put something in," Ella said, "and so did Felix."

  "Doubt it was Felix." He had helped Trieste design the flyer, but he was a nerd who rode a bike. "By the way, where did she go?" I looked around, seeing no sign of her lavender ombré hair anywhere.

  Ella shrugged. "But hey, I can buy the coffee now." She grinned cheekily. "Come with us? We're all going to the cafe." Ella's Mom and Dad and sisters were milling around, and so were Ainsley and Logan.

  "Thanks, but I better get going." I didn't want to be the odd one out, especially if Trieste had disappeared. And I didn’t want to get caught up in the afternoon traffic. ”I'll catch you later. Have fun."

  Ella and Damo
n waved me goodbye and I was about to tell Ainsley I was heading home when Michael swished over to me, stopping me with a grab of my hand.

  "Uh, hey, what are you up to now?" he asked.

  "I was just going home," I said, aware that his friends were watching. I fumbled for my keys in my purse, bringing out a fluffy unicorn keychain.

  "Uh, um, did you want to go to the movies tonight? A bunch of us are going." Michael's cheeks had turned a shade of pink and there was a slight twitching of his upper lip. "I could pick you up."

  I went momentarily mute as I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I tried again, a choked cough rattled out. The occasion was too momentous, and I was sounding like a whimpering dog.

  I covered my mouth, cleared my throat and attempted to speak. "Uh. What are you going to see?" My voice had changed to that of a chipmunk.

  "The new Spider-Man movie."

  I should have known—he was wearing the t-shirt. Michael wore comic book t-shirts all the time. Having not seen any of the previous Spider-Man movies, it seemed like something that we didn't have in common.

  "Um, I'm busy tonight," I said, "I already made plans." Silence followed, as realization came to both of us that I'd rejected him. Me—Selina Harris-Brown, who had been waiting patiently her whole high school years for a date, was now casually turning one down. "Uh, with my friends. You know, Ella and Domi, y'know with Damon being home."

  "Yeah, sure," he said, sounding chipper enough. "Some other time, maybe?"

  Catching me off guard, I smiled. "Yeah. Yes. Some other time."

  We both laughed, nervous, uncomfortable.

  I was so stunned about the movie invitation that I didn't check my mirrors. As I was about to leave my parking spot, a car blasted its horn as it came speeding past, causing my heart into pounding mode. I took three deep calming yoga breaths before I was brave enough to try again, my hands jittery all the way home.

  As I crept up the driveway at a snail's pace, I prayed the new neighbor wasn't about to barge out at that exact same time.

  I bounded up the back steps into the kitchen, calling out to Mom.