So I didn’t tell him the real truth.
“Because back then, we had a weekend. A weekend to see all the beautiful things between us. To focus on them,” I said, trying to remember the words I’d rehearsed for this exact moment. And I had rehearsed them. Because I knew this moment would come. After seeing Heath’s gaze when I said to Jett that we were friends. He’d walked away after that, but his eyes held a promise. That he’d be coming back.
Which was why he was right, I had dodged him. I’d been careful to never stay in one place too long, my days were never the same, I slept even less than usual. In an ideal world, I was hard to pin down, hard to find.
But this was far from an ideal world. So I was almost impossible to find. Both Lucy and Rosie had commented and complained about it, more worried about my ‘cult’ than ever.
Obviously they still didn’t know the truth.
They couldn’t. Because they were the truest, most unflattering emotional mirrors. And they’d call me on my shit.
“Despite what we said to the contrary, that was a fantasy,” I said, keeping my eyes and my voice clear with effort. “We’re in reality now. And we need to face who we are. Who we really are. I’m a girl who marches for peace, loses her keys daily, is never going to keep to a schedule and wants to travel the world.”
I forced myself to keep his eyes, which were hardening with every one of my words.
“You’re a man who makes his bed with military corners. You live and ordered and violent life. You’re a grown up. A real one. Not me, who’s just pretending. That’s who we are. Who we were before. And for a weekend, we fit.” I sucked in a breath at the impact of those memories. “Because we knew there was an expiration date. But our lives are too different for us to work in reality. We are too different to work in reality. People don’t change, Heath,” I said. “No matter how long it’s been. At our core, we haven’t changed. And we won’t. I don’t want either of us to. No matter how much I wanted us...that’s the crux of it.”
“You’re tellin’ me we can’t be together because of how I make my fuckin’ bed?” he hissed.
“Among other things,” I replied, my voice shaking only slightly.
He stared at me for a long time. “That’s bullshit, Polly. And you fucking know it.”
Did I?
I wasn’t sure what I knew anymore.
But I did know that I couldn’t survive trying this, jumping into this like I jumped into everything else, like I had that night all those years ago, and have it leave me.
Have Heath leave me.
Again.
I prayed he didn’t push me. Didn’t press his body any closer to mine. Didn’t kiss me.
Because I knew for certain if he did any of those things it’d be done. Over.
My resolve would be shattered. I’d give in. I’d jump.
And then eventually, something would happen. I would happen. And I’d do what I always did. Fuck something up. Do something oh so Polly.
Heath was staring at me, his features morphing, shifting.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t press his body closer to mine. Didn’t kiss me.
And I should’ve been relieved when he stepped back, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
But I wasn’t.
“I’m not gonna try to convince you what’s right when you’re trying so hard to convince yourself of what is wrong, Polly,” he said. “You’re not a girl that lives in a fairy tale, no matter what the world thinks. I know you. And you think you’re looking for a knight to save you from yourself. To chase you. To convince you to take a chance. I’m not a knight. Not gonna save you. Mostly ‘cause no one can save you from yourself.”
And then he turned on his heel and left.
And he didn’t save me.
I didn’t save me either.
I jumped farther in that false fairy tale, that false reality.
Because I was Polly.
And I was fucking things up.
Irrevocably.
One Month Later
A lot could change in a month.
Especially when you were willing yourself to change in that month.
Especially when you’d convinced you had to change in order to survive. That you were really saving yourself, and more importantly, him.
I didn’t change by getting my life together, by finding a ‘real’ job, moving into a ‘real’ apartment, or truly trying to figure out who the heck I was.
I changed the ultimate Polly way.
With a guy.
“I know this is exceptionally cheesy, but I’m going to say it anyway in the vain hope that you find it endearing enough to give me a chance,” a voice said from beside me.
I looked up from my matcha latte.
I was faced with an attractive man.
A very attractive man.
He was tall but not too tall. Tanned enough to show me he went out in the sun, but not too much to tell me he lay in a sunbed. His features were masculine but not sharp. He had muscles peeking out from his simple white tee, but they weren’t excessive.
Weren’t like...no. I was not allowed to think of him.
His eyes were what got me. They were blue, blindingly so. Kind. Smiling. Clear. Free of demons. Of danger.
I put down my book.
“I’m listening,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back. It was easy. Natural. “You are quite easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I couldn’t physically bring myself to go a second longer without talking to you. Without knowing your name.”
It was cliché.
And cheesy.
But it was also nice.
Easy.
Natural.
Simple.
So I gave him my name.
And my heart.
The smallest and last undamaged piece that I tried to convince myself didn’t belong to someone else.
Three weeks passed with Craig. Three weeks I threw myself into with more force than I had with any other man.
Except...him.
I threw myself in, convinced myself this was it, this was right because there was no other choice.
And it was right.
Craig was easy to be around. He complimented me daily, even if they were rather cheesy, over the top poetic compliments.
They came from his heart.
He gave me his heart.
He was easy to love. I knew that because I was falling in some kind of love with him.
I was making myself fall in love.
That’s what the fairy tales didn’t tell you. About the girl who made decisions with her head instead of her heart, who chose to love the man who was safer, instead of the man she had no choice in loving.
And that’s what had me saying yes when Craig went down on one knee after less than a month of dating.
“I know it’s been three weeks, but I can’t go another three seconds without knowing I’m going to spend eternity with you,” he said, holding a large, obviously very expensive diamond. It was beautiful. So very beautiful, I knew that scores of women would actually scream when presented with it.
I hated myself for having the thought in the middle of a romantic and beautiful proposal—but it so wasn’t me. I would’ve liked something smaller, something vintage. Something with a story.
“Polly, I know you want to take adventures, and I promise I’ll take you on as many as I can. If you promise to take this adventure with me.”