He was sadistic and I was a masochist. He climbed through my window and I threatened him with pepper spray. He used me and I let myself fall in love with him.

A/N: Second update this weekend! Shhaaaa (WTB anyone?). I heart Arsenio. Do you?

QUESTION: WERE YOU OFFENDED BY THE CUSSING IN THE FIRST CHAPTER? Should it be revised? Does the cussing fit the exchange/situation/characters after reading to this point?

Shout outs: Ashley-Watts and SNAPE4 (even if you complained about the cussing and gave no real criticism) -- "(

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

I didn’t stay for the after party. I collected my things and put them in the art room. It was empty in there, with just the feel of the music shaking the floors. I was angry; so angry, in fact, my hands were shaking. I’d broken up with Lee.

I’d broken up with Lee.

The thought kept racing through my mind. A half hour ago, I had broken up with Lee. My heart felt like it was skipping, and my head was spinning. I sat on a stool, looking at my hands.

I’d broken up with Lee.

I should have been relieved. He wasn’t the best boyfriend. He drank, smoked, and did drugs. He smoked weed and probably other things that I didn’t know of. I should have felt a weight lift off of my shoulders, but they only sagged more. He was using me but I wanted it.

I had enjoyed feeling needed. The attention he gave me, the affection- it was everything I had always wanted. I wanted something to take care of, or something to fix. My hands and my soul were itching to hold him, to help him sober up, and to cause a little bit of trouble with my parents. Those few months of dating him were hurting me, but I had enjoyed the pain. I was a masochist.

“Danielle,” his voice said, entering my thoughts. My head snapped up so fast to look at him that for a second, I didn’t believe my eyes. Lee’s voice was like music to my ears. The way it was smooth but so ruggedly a baritone had always amazed me. He was still high, though ( and I wouldn’t allow his voice to win me over). It was obvious by the way he walked with more confidence, the way his eyes constantly roamed my face. He never really looked into my eyes when he was high. It was obvious every time. Every day.

I didn’t say anything to him. I looked at him for a while, trying to find what I had liked about him so much. The poet’s face was still there, the beautiful blue eyes, and long hair. Physically he was still there, but the joker. The boy that had broken into my window. Somehow, I had lost him. Lee continued to try to grab my attention. He grabbed my elbow, and I violently pushed him away. He called my name, and I pretended to be deaf. He was trying so hard… But to do what? To apologize? Why wouldn’t he just come right out and say it?

As if he had read my mind, Lee said: “Danielle, I’m sorry.”

He sighed, and gave me a look that said a lot. It begged for forgiveness. It asked for help. It asked for things- begged for things- that I couldn’t allow myself to give any longer.

“You never told me who Jason Moore was.”

I left with those words. I believe the real reason Lee rubbed me the wrong way, especially on the night of the showcase, was because he avoided problems. He pretended they weren’t there. I should have noticed that first night we met.

I avoided Lee during school the following day. There were rumors of our break up. All of the different stories made no sense, but when they saw Lee and I avoiding each other it was obvious. We were done.

I sat next to Sheldon during English and spent a lot of my time in the art room. I went from school, straight to track practice, took some time to do art with Mr. Daley, and then I went straight home. My mom tried to talk to me, noticing my perpetual silence, but I wouldn’t relent. My dad looked smug, but not for long.

“Danielle, you knew it was going to happen,” he said while we sat facing each other in the kitchen. I was on the counter and he was sitting at the breakfast nook. My mom had always wanted a breakfast nook. Dad looked at me with a frustrated face. I almost wanted to remark on how he looked constipated, but I just didn’t really feel like joking around. I hadn’t felt like being silly since Tuesday night.

“Daddy, I broke up with him,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Then why are you mopping around the house?”

“I’m not mopping. If I was mopping, I’d be whining and wearing sweat pants,” I replied, glaring at him lightly. I tried to lighten the mood, “I’ve been pretty quiet and I’m wearing jeans. So obviously, I’m not mopping.”

“My little girl is anything but quiet, though.”

Destiny and Matthew were nice company, but when winter break came along I just didn’t make the effort to seek their comfort. Instead, I reconnected with old friends. I logged onto my old MySpace and messaged people I hadn’t seen in months. I caught up with old flames, girls I used to run with, and people in the city. My life was going back to the way it was without Lee.

I wasn’t happy about that all because:

I’d broken up with Lee.

“Danielle,” a familiar voice said, surprise and happiness in it. It was a nice change from the pity I’d been getting. It’s not like I was crying over the break up with Lee. I was the one that broke up with him. I shouldn’t be crying over him. Not even late at night when I’d hear the winds rustle against my window. It didn’t remind me of Lee coming in late at night.

“Hey, Arsenio,” I replied, smiling up at my friend. He was taller than I remembered, standing a little over six feet tall. He ran track for a school in the city and we met when my mother was his truant officer. He was skipping school to help his grandparents, whom he lived with, do errands. Arsenio was a great guy, wholesome and a little silly. I used to have a crush on him, but it never went past that. Arsenio was the type of boy every girl would like. He was perfect to take home to the parents. Unlike Lee.

“You look like shit,” he said, looking at me with a straight face. If there was a flaw with the boy, it was how straightforward he was.

“Gee, thanks,” I mumbled, sipping my mocha. We met at Starbucks because it was convenient for both of us and I had a gift card. Arsenio watched me for a long time before taking my mocha and drinking half of it. It didn’t bother me. We were such good friends before I moved. We were like siblings; always sharing our food and teasing each other.

“So, you haven’t kept in touch,” he said, voice lowered and a little disappointed. If there was one person I didn’t want to disappoint, it was definitely Arsenio.

“I’m sorry,” and I really was. He was –is- my best friend. I had underestimated how much Arsenio had meant to me before I met Lee. I had been so caught up in myself to remember even my best friend.

“I’m sorry, too,” Arsenio sighed, handing the cup of coffee back to me. I sipped it slowly. “I didn’t necessarily try either.”

“Yeah.”

We sat at Starbucks for an hour or so, catching up with each other. We spoke about old friends, school and running. I’d forgotten what life was like in the city and how easy it was to get back into the flow of things. Arsenio acted relaxed and laughed easily, his smile brightening up my sour mood.

Arsenio was one-hundred perfect Greek; he had tan skin, a pearly white smile, dark brown eyes, and curly blonde hair. His nose was crooked after breaking it in some fight, and his hands were soft as a baby’s. The boy carried lotion with him everywhere. Arsenio was a little quirky and didn’t always look like the kind of guy that grew up in the hood, but at moments it was obvious he had. He spoke with the slightest bit of slang in his vocabulary and even had some swag in his step.

When we parted ways, Arsenio gave me the best hug I’d ever received.

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and his cheek rested on mine. We stayed like that for a long while, just enjoying each other’s embrace. Arsenio was so warm and comforting. I missed his hugs. He was always the best hugger I’d ever known.

And for a moment, I forgot about Lee.