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"Leave me alone, Roman. I'm going home."
"Let me drive you at least," I plead.
She shakes her head. "I want to be alone."
When she walks away from me this time, I let her. Her body curled over in sadness. She doesn't push the weeds or the branches out of the way. I watch as they scrape her legs, leaving red lines on her skin. She just moves straight past them. A complete zombie as she goes through the motions of getting away from me.
Her quiet cries shred me in two.
My chest quakes, breaking straight down the middle until I'm in two pieces.
Broken. Utterly broken.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUNA
Tears flow down my face as my toes scream in protest. I fall flat on my feet again, groaning at myself in pity.
"Fuck," I cry.
I've been useless all day. All week, to be honest. I'm sore between the legs and I'm sore in my chest. I feel lost. Confused. I haven't spoken to Roman in days. It's the most we've gone without speaking to one another since I moved here, and I feel completely broken. A shattered glass, broken and forgotten. No one to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.
Roman has tried to talk to me, but I've feigned sickness to my mom. She knows better, looking at me with pity and a nod of her head. I'm sure she's talked to Goldie at some point, so she probably knows what's going on.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters at this point.
Roman is leaving.
Every day that I don't talk to him is another day that I'm losing being with him. Every day is a day closer to him leaving me. But I can't for the life of me go and talk to him.
I'm too broken, too stubborn.
I don't want him to leave.
I walk over to the bar and grip the wood with my hand, bending down in a plié. It feels forced—off. I know if my teacher were here right now, she'd whip me with a ruler for faking my moves. I'm so much better than this. But if I were honest, it all feels useless if Roman isn't here.
I feel like a fraud.
I slide down to the floor, my back scraping against the wall as quiet sobs rack my chest. I pull on the bows on the back of my calves and the ribbons release, floating to the ground in a quiet drop. I peel my shoes off my aching feet, slapping them against the ground in frustration.
I've avoided Roman everywhere. At home, in school. I'm surprised he hasn't shown up at the studio. But another part of me is hurt that he didn't.
Did he give up on me?
That thought alone makes another sob rip through my chest, and I feel like my heart can barely take the crying anymore. My chest feels bruised. My ribs feel broken. I've cried so much. Too much.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand and stand up. Grabbing my slippers, I go to the back and grab my things, turn off the radio and the lights, and lock up. Turning around, I come face to face with Bryce, one of the guys from school.
"Um, hi?"
"Oh, hey. What's up?" he asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
I toss my thumb over my shoulder, trying to act nonchalant even though I'm sure my face is a wreck, all blotchy, red and swollen. "I was just practicing."
He bobs his head. "I was walking by and saw you. You're really good."
I cringe. "Wasn't my best today." That means he saw me cry, and that makes me cringe even more.
