Limerence - Alana Curran (100 books to read .txt) 📗

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I don’t know what it was about Carey that scared me off. I dumped her the night after she started talking to me about what we’d go on to do after college. I still remember it and I didn’t think much of it at the time. I was doing my classic bit – the romantic gesture I offered every girl that I was with. I’d drive her up to the Scorpion Lake cliff just at the end of Knoughton in the middle of the night to look out over the city.

It made every girl melt and I knew that. Girls love that sappy crap guys pull (and let’s be honest, most of the time, we only do it to get laid). Well, it worked for me every time. If I drove a girl up to Scorpion Lake, no matter what move I pulled, I was going to be getting some.

The first time I went there was when I was thirteen (and obviously couldn’t drive so we just walked) and it was my first girlfriend. To be honest, I don’t even remember her name. It was some strange Latvian name that I never bothered learning, so I just gave her a nickname. Needless to say I lost my virginity that night and it was the most magical night of my life – after a while though, the magic wore off.

After the Latvian chick dumped me, I found it difficult to hold a girlfriend for too long. After my tenth girlfriend in high school, I had obviously built up the ‘player’ reputation. I just went along with it, it wasn’t exactly getting in the way of my life. I just found girls irresistible and I often let them go before I got too emotionally attached.

Anyway, back to Carey. We were sitting on the sunroof, gazing out on the cool, summer evening. It was just a couple of weeks until summer; a couple of weeks before I headed off to America for a couple of months to stay with my dad. I had been dating Carey for the last three months and it was, surprisingly, the longest relationship I had with a girl without getting bored or too attached.

Of course, there was the obvious sexual attraction, even on this night her bare shoulders were turning me on. I don’t know what it was about girl’s shoulders that turned me on so much, but they did and that’s all I was certain of. I looked out onto the endless town of Knoughton, it was surprising that the weather was actually quite nice. It seemed the old, Irish sun was holding out for us – not that I’d get to actually enjoy it as I was heading out to Michigan in the morning.

I stole a glance of Carey, she was lying back, staring intently at the sunset – I, at her chest.

“You’re probably the most romantic guy I’ve ever been with, Des,” she sighed, glancing at me. I glanced at her chestnut brown eyes, hoping she wouldn’t notice where I had been looking. “What do you plan on doing after next year?”

The evening sun made her tan glow and her eyes glistened with the hope of tomorrow and I felt as though a sudden wave had hit me. I wasn’t really panicking but I didn’t have any way to respond. I was hoping being with Carey was going to be different, but with this question, I already knew it wasn’t going to last.

“Well, I have to repeat the year, Care,” I reminded her.

I had been taking a level three course in business administration. To get into university, I needed two years of it and then an introduction course for university. Needless to say, I failed terribly, so I decided to pursue my love of art. This meant repeating first year of college and meant I’d be a year behind Carey. It was a little embarrassing, but the age groups in college were more diverse than high school. Although, getting held back in high school wasn’t as likely even if you failed all your exams.

She frowned, tossing her gold locks behind one sexy shoulder. “I know that,” she sighed, gazing at her hot pink, manicured nails. “Well, what sort of career can art get you anyway?”

I felt the nerd in me pour out immediately, “What can it not get me?” I laughed, “I could be a photographer; a graphic designer; a painter; an illustrator,  mainly for comic books of course...”

“Ok, ok,” she giggled, giving my bare arm a playful poke. “You proved me wrong.” I tried not to show off too much the fact that she had nearly stabbed me to death with her nails of horror. “We don’t have to wait until you get out of college for us to start our life together anyway.”

My world stopped. It seemed the cotton ball clouds from above had stopped dead in the sky and the sun was glancing over the horizon to see how I’d reply. ‘Is it going to be the same, old story, Desmond’ the surrounding trees seemed to say, ‘Are you going to break another girl’s heart due to your commitment issues?’

I tried to block out the insanity from my head and I knew she thought it was strange that I was taking too long to reply. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes, I hated it when she acted as though I was stupid. It seemed that only when hopes of commitment shone through in girls that their flaws began to annoy me. “Well, you’re turning eighteen next month, yeah?” she began. I nodded. “Your dad is, like, a billionaire and you practically live on your own anyway.”

I knew where this was heading, but I didn’t want to know. “Where are you going with this, Carey?” I asked bluntly.

“I was wondering if you wanted to move in together after college,” she replied, throwing her head back and enjoying the last of the evening sun. “Obviously not in your mum’s house, I figured you could rent an apartment or something.”

All the flaws began to form a list in my mind.

Bossy Rude Arrogant Gold digger Self-obsessed .....

And so the list ceaselessly continued.

“We’ve only been dating for a few months,” I reminded her.

“And it’s been great!” she beamed, throwing herself into my arms. She smelt like vanilla, as did most girls I dated. Maybe I had a type and maybe that was what I was doing wrong with relationships – choosing the wrong girls.

I had to break it to her sooner or later. “Carey, I’m not ready to make that kind of commitment, obviously your feelings for me have developed quicker than mine.”

Her eyes widened, I could see nothing but humiliation in them. She pulled away, swallowing and fixing her hair, realising how desperate she was seeming. Already, my whole image of her was crushed.

So, yeah, I have no idea what scared me off about Carey. Maybe, it was just the idea of forever...or maybe it was the fact she was bat shit crazy.  After driving her home, I pretty much just texted her, which made me feel like the biggest jerk but surely she saw it coming. I never saw her again after that, which was probably for the best.

This story isn’t about how I break girls’ hearts and swan off to America every summer to hang out with my dad and the friends I never get to see apart from that time of year. So let’s fast forward.

October – same year.

Only a month into the new term and I was already progressing much better in art and design than in business administration. I was enjoying everything so much more, especially since we had been mainly drawing and taking pictures for the past four weeks. I had already formed a little group with a bunch of people. I didn’t even feel like a giant among insects given the fact they were sixteen.

There were five in our little group, including myself. There was Elora, Kerry, Barry and Dustin. For the first few weeks, I had a little crush on Kerry (despite the fact she basically had the same name as my ex). I felt rather strange about it. She was only sixteen and I usually opted for girls who were my own age or older. After a while I found out she was a vegetarian and I like girls who can fry some bacon. I know I’m coming across as a pig, but I’m really not.

I just wasn’t ready to pounce into a relationship, I had to focus on my work that year. I had to let my talent blossom and not let it wither away like a grape drying out into a dry, old prune...if that even happens to grapes. Regardless, I had an awkward encounter with one of Carey that morning.

I always drove to school and sat in my car until a couple of minutes before I was supposed to head in.  I hated being too early and waiting outside the locked art room like a prick. I wallowed in the stoner world of White Flight before peering at the car clock. 8:55. Sighing, I pulled myself out of the car and wandered down the zebra crossing.

With my headphones on, I couldn’t even ever the screeches of tyres against the tarmac. I wasn’t blind though, I saw the hot pink Mercedes at the corner of my eye and I very nearly had a heart attack. The blacked out window prevented me from seeing the culprit, but I stood frozen in the middle of the crossing. There was only one girl in the whole college, possibly in the whole of Northern Ireland who drove a hot pink Mercedes.

I said I never saw her again and that is correct. However, I never said I never encountered her again. She violently drove around me and headed down to the back of the car park, eager for a space.

I rolled my eyes. As guilty as I had felt at the time, she didn’t need to be a careless driver. She could have hit some poor, old student based on spite. Although, as I stood there in the middle of the zebra crossing I thought, I didn’t need to be a careless pedestrian.

I wandered upstairs, thinking about her. It wouldn’t take too long for her to get over me, the only romantic gesture I offered was taking her to Scorpion Lake cliff every weekend. Surely, it got boring for her, surely it got boring for all my exes.

When I reached the classroom, I saw no one was waiting. They were already in the class, so I burst through the door and found everyone sitting around one table in the middle of the room. Kyle (our teacher) glanced up at me.

“Ah, Monsieur Desmond, entree s’il vous plait,” he smiled. He also doubled as a French teacher and it irked me when he spoke it in art. “We were just introducing ourselves to the new student.”

It was just then when I noticed the unfamiliar girl with bright pink hair, made into a simple braid. She had two piercings above her red lips and holes in her ears. She was definitely...quirky.

“This is Mademoiselle Evan,” he smiled, waving at her. “Now I think it’s time to get started on some work, don’t you?”

She glanced at him, shrugging. She was very different to most of the girls I had seen. First of all, she wasn’t orange with fake tan. Her skin was like porcelain, she looked like a doll – a strange, pierced, hipster doll with holes in her ears, but a doll nevertheless. The only reason I found myself ogling her was because she was new and different and when there’s a new student in the class, it takes a while to get used to the foreign presence.

I sat down at my normal seat and, typically,