“Yeah,” he says. “See you.”
My best friend Jacie lifts one eyebrow as I walk up to her in the cafeteria, gripping my lunch tray. She glances around me, making this over exaggerated show of looking to see if I’m alone, or if maybe Chris is somewhere behind me about to catch up.
“You broke up with him,” she says, and it’s not a question.
I set my tray down and sit next to her. “It was time.”
She snorts. “He was really nice.”
“Too nice,” I say.
“He was really cute.”
“Too cute.”
She shakes her head. “I love you but you’ve got issues.”
“I know.” I bite into my pizza and stare at the grease that drips off it and lands on my plate. “But let’s not talk about my issues.”
The thing is, I have no idea why I break up with guys after around two weeks. It’s a mystery. I’ve never had a relationship last longer than two weeks. Maybe two and a half weeks if we get technical. It’s a curse. And it’s all my fault because I’m the one that does the breaking up. Maybe if I dig down deep, I’ll unearth why I do the things I do, but I don’t feel like digging. I just want to move on.
“I mean, your parents are happily married,” Jacie says, sipping from her Diet Coke. “Theyarehappy, right? They seem like it.”
I shrug. “They’re happy.”
“Well it’s not like you learned bad relationship habits from them.” She shakes her head. “You’re so weird. I would kill to have a boyfriend, and you get them all the time and then ditch them.”
“I don’t get boyfriendsall the time,” I say. But even as I say it, my stomach kind of hurts. It’s just something weird with my junior year. No one liked me when I was a freshman and barely any guys liked me last year. But I think I’ve dated…ten guys this year. Now that I count them up, I do feel kind of bad.
“They just weren’t a match,” I say.
She laughs. “Okay. I dare you to date a guy for an entire thirty days.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I think you dump guys way too early and you should give it time to see if you’re a good couple or not.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious! Let’s make a bet. Date a guy for thirty days and you win.”
“What will I win?”
She considers it a moment. “My guitar.”
My jaw drops. “You’re lying.”
She shakes her head. “I promise.”
Chapter 2
Jacie’s dad gave her a guitar three years ago as a bribe to make her like him after he cheated on her mom and they got divorced. But this isn’t just any guitar. It’s a 2014 Gibson Hummingbird Quilt. That thing cost at least three thousand dollars, and it’s gorgeous. Maple wood, a sleek shine, and unplayed frets. Despite being raised in a musical family, Jacie doesn’t even like guitars.
But I do.
I love them.
