Breakable Moon, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Ch. 1
Ch. 2
Ch. 3
Ch. 4
Ch. 5
Ch. 6
Ch. 7
Ch. 8
Ch. 9
Ch. 10
Ch. 11
Ch. 12
Ch. 13
Ch. 14
Ch. 15
Ch. 16
Ch. 17
Ch. 18
Ch. 19
Ch. 20
Ch. 21
Ch. 22
Ch. 23
Ch. 24
Ch. 25
Ch. 26
Ch. 27
Ch. 28
Ch. 29
Ch. 30
Ch. 31
The End
Acknowledgements
BREAKABLE MOON
Copyright © 2021 by Maris Ella
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the author; except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Editing and Proofreading by My Brother's Editor
Cover Design by Cat at TRC DESIGNS
Interior Formatting by Cat at TRC DESIGNS
For everyone who has ever found love.
For those who are still trying to find someone worthy of their love.
CHAPTER 1
My mind is on overdrive again. I’m bored. And when I’m bored, I watch people. Do you ever just sit and watch people? I know that sounds super creepy, but I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just like to wonder how other people live their lives. I play a guessing game by looking at their facial expression, who they’re sitting next to, what they’re doing.
Like when you’re stuck in traffic and happen to look into the car next to you. I wonder if that person is truly happy? Are they going through a divorce? Are they cheating on their spouse? Do they have some kind of disease? Are they a murderer? You know... things like that. I guess that’s being judgmental? Putting people into categories just by looking at them. Ah whatever, it’s my own stupid little game anyway.
I find it amazing how we constantly have people around us that we don’t know anything about. We just live our lives blindly assuming that everyone else is okay, when you’re not or that nothing bad can ever happen to you when the news says otherwise. I feel like people, in general, are selfish and think they’re invincible. It pisses me off. I don’t know, I guess I just have an overthinking problem. My best friend, Skylar, tells me I analyze things too much. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a boyfriend. He wouldn’t survive my thoughts.
Looking around the room, I can point out some people I actually know a thing or two about and don’t have to play my guessing game. To outsiders that don’t know them, they have “everything,” but they really have issues and problems just like everyone else. How do I know? High school gossip. Like the girl in the third row seat from me. She’s wearing Louis Vuitton from head to toe. The headband, the scarf, belt, huge handbag… even the sunglasses, like really? We’re inside a classroom, is that really necessary. Anyway, her mom is an alcoholic, her dad is always traveling, and her boyfriend can’t keep his dick in his pants. Or how about the guy sitting two seats behind her who’s counting his money in mid-air for everyone to see, which are hundred-dollar bills, by the way, at least five of them. I stopped looking after that, so who knows what else he was flashing. His dad makes money, but is known to be in major debt and lives beyond his means.
If you’re rich, happy, you got it like that? Fine. But do you really have to flaunt it? We’re in high school, for God’s sake. Just because they have things to show for, they think they’re better than everyone else. Their mommy and daddy has made it pretty easy for them to live in lala land, which as a result, they’re all pretentious assholes if you ask me. Who am I to judge though? I’m just stating my opinion based on what I see and what I hear. I may not have much like these other people, but I don’t ignore my family problems. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.
And what’s up with fairy tales? Do kids actually believe in that stuff? The perfect house, the perfect relationship, perfect kids. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with everyone. They grow up thinking that a life like that is real, attainable. Then get disappointed when it’s not. Well, it’s not. At least mine isn’t, nowhere near. I haven’t met anyone who’s achieved that kind of self-actualization myself, but it’s nice to think that can be reality.
At the very least, no matter which side of the fairy tale someone is on, I believe everyone deserves their happy ending. I’m trying to hold in a giggle just thinking of the words ‘happy ending.’ My other best friend, Casey, is to blame for that. She recently told me she found out her idiot boyfriend got one of those “happy endings” at a Korean spa spot a few towns over in Fort Lee. That got him the ex-boyfriend status. He was a douche anyway. It was messed up, but I can’t help but to find the humor in it. But now my thoughts are just rambling on as they normally do. Back to being “happy,” finding happiness. That word must hit different for everyone. What makes someone happy? Is anyone ever truly happy?
I really must be bored out of my mind. I’m sitting here in class thinking about fucking “fairy tales” and the word “happy” when I should really be focused on the chemical equations that need to be balanced on the board in front of me.
A tap on my left shoulder from the seat behind me brings me back to reality. But I ignore the tap as I already know who wants my attention and what it’s about. My eyes narrow in on the teacher in front of the large stadium seating classroom. Hopefully the “tap girl” will get the point and leave me alone. I’m trying to listen, but then I feel another annoying tap on my shoulder. Now it comes with the whisper of my name.
“Psst, Diana.”
Oh my God, here we go. My method of ignoring her obviously didn’t work.
“What do you want?” I turn to my left and side-eye “tap girl.”
Her name is Brenda, but she doesn’t go a day without tapping my shoulder. Therefore I gave her the name “tap girl.” Not that she knows that. I’m not a total bitch, you know.
I’m trying to see what she wants without getting the teacher’s attention. Mrs. Moore has already told us to be quiet on numerous occasions because of her annoying ass. I try to avoid her at all costs and everyone else, for that matter. To be honest, I’d rather stay invisible. I like it that way. Less drama.
She leans forward. “Do you understand any of this?”
“Yeah, and if you let me listen, maybe I can actually explain it to you later.”
She sits back and rolls her eyes. Bless her heart, but the girl is slow as hell.
As I’m turning my attention back to the front of the room, another pair of eyes catch my attention. My heart jumps to my throat. The guy sitting next to Brenda is staring at me. The same guy I’ve had a ‘thing’ for since my freshman year. God, he’s cute. I feel my face flush. I look away so fast, I’m surprised I didn’t get a neck cramp. Shit, I wonder if my face is red now? If it is, did he notice? This is so embarrassing. I’ll just prop my elbow on the desk and hold my face on the left side to block his view, yeah, that should work. I’m facing forward trying my best to focus.
Yeahh, not happening. Now all I can think about are those honey-brown eyes.
Did he mean to look at me or was it just a coincidence? Maybe he was just daydreaming and wasn’t even staring at me at all. Why would he be watching me anyway? He’s that guy in high school who is friends with everyone and who knows everyone. Part of the popular group at school. And me? Not so much. I focus on school and stick to a small group of friends. Only two, as a matter of fact, Casey and Skylar. I’ve been told I don’t exactly scream ‘come talk to me.’ I have that resting bitch face. A lot of people who don’t know me think I’m just conceited, but in reality, I just prefer to keep to myself. Fly by under the radar.
And as far as my love life? It’s non-existent. I don’t exactly trust easily. I probably have my father to thank for that. He definitely didn’t set the parental example of what a relationship should be like. My mom’s been single for God knows how long now… so no help there. Therefore, I’m not exactly sure or even interested in finding out what that’s like anytime soon. On that thought, the bell is ringing and it’s time for my next class.
I head to my locker, but I feel someone walking a little too close behind me. Some people just don’t understand personal space. I spun around to face whoever was behind me, my long blonde hair whipping over my shoulder.
“Do you mind!” I sound irritated, but my voice fails me when I realize who it is. It’s him.
Those honey-brown eyes are staring right into me. He’s scanning my body with his eyes like he can see what’s underneath my clothes. I suddenly feel so exposed. I want to look away, but I can’t. He has me trapped in his glare.
“Do I mind what?” he says with a scowl. Like he can’t stand to even look at me right now.
Damn, he looks hot though, even when he’s annoyed. What’s wrong with me? Why is this turning me on? I hate that he affects me this way. I try to sound st
“Oh-um, nothing... sorry, I-I thought you were someone else.” My voice cracks.
My heart is beating faster than normal and my palms are sweating. Okay, this whole clammy hands feeling is gross. I wrap my hands around my waist to hide my body’s reaction to him. He slowly walks toward me. I can smell him now. He not only looks good, but smells even better. What is that? Lavender? No, not just lavender. I smell vanilla too. What an intoxicating mix.
He’s now standing too close.
He whispers, “Who did you think I was?” His scowl fades into a confident smile.
He knows. He knows he makes me nervous and is enjoying every minute of it.
Now, I’m the one who can’t stand him right now. I hate how my nervous system is betraying me, when all I want is to play it cool. His messy dark brown hair is gelled back like ocean waves slightly coming down the side of his face. I don’t want to admit that he looks sexy as hell with his ripped jeans and fitted black T-shirt, but he does. His strong jaw and pierced ear. Man, he’s hot.
My mom always told me boys with earrings are trouble. Maybe a little trouble wouldn’t be so bad? Okay, I’m officially insane. I don’t even recognize my own thoughts right now, but damn, he looks good, he looks like he should be in a rock band.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. “I-uh.” I clear my throat. He’s looking deep into my eyes, waiting for me to say something, anything.
Suddenly, a mop of brown curls obstructs my view of his perfect face and I’m pushed back against the locker. I snap out of my trance and roll my eyes. Of course she would be nearby.
“Hey there handsome! Everything alright?”
He moves her to the side. “Yeah, everything is fine,” he tells her, keeping his eyes on me, all smug-like. “I’ll see you later, Diana.”
She quickly turns my way. “Oh, Diana.” With her evil smirk and all. “Didn’t see you there, oops!” she says, rolling her eyes at me then looking at him. “Alrighty! Let’s get going then, cutie.” Turning, she loops her arm through his and drags him away.
I stay following them with my eyes like a sad puppy-dog who just wants to be brought home.
“What was that about?” Casey puts her arm around my shoulder.
I turn around and start walking to class. “I dunno. Just forget about it. I already did.”
“Oh come on! That was like a live flashback of freshman year. What were you guys talking about? Did he ask you out?” She’s giving me a sneaky, hopeful look.
I laugh out loud sarcastically at Casey’s ridiculous question. “Yeah, okay, like Ace would ask me out when he has Veronica on his arm.”
“I don’t know why you let her get under your skin. You’re ten times prettier than she is!”
“Can we just stop talking about them?”
CHAPTER 2
I just met up with Skylar and her boyfriend, Roy. They walk with me after school sometimes so I don’t have to walk alone. Roy is super tall and his spiky blonde hair makes him look even taller. Skylar is only an inch taller than I am, but she likes to mock me about how short I am. Her black shoulder-length hair is waving side to side as her brown eyes ogle into Roy. They are complete opposites and you’d think the height difference would be an issue, but it works for them.
I stop dead in my tracks when we get to the parking lot. Roy and Skylar are looking at me like I’ve just grown three heads, but I’m looking straight ahead and not at all at them. I can’t help myself. It’s Ace. And he’s sitting on his motorcycle. I wonder if Sky and Roy are seeing everything in slow motion right now like I am. Or maybe I’m just losing it? It’s like watching my very own version of a Baywatch commercial, except, it’s Ace.
The way his strong thighs wrap around each side of his bike. How his shirt rises a little as he holds up his helmet with his masculine hand over his head and rakes through his messy hair with the other. My eyes are taking in every piece of him. The waistband of his boxers exposed from his jeans, his broad shoulders exhibiting how strong his back is, and now I’m distracted by his flexed biceps. The way every muscle is contracting as he lowers the helmet on his head and leans forward to turn on his bike. He’s so—
“Earth to Diana.” Roy is waving his hand in front of my face and I snap out of my concentration.
Skylar is laughing her head off. “Girl, seriously? You got it bad. Why don’t you just talk to him already?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sky. Let’s get out of here.” I take her arm and rush her and Roy across the parking lot before Ace notices me. “I’m in the mood for some ice cream, you guys want?” I ask.
Sky whispers something into Roy’s ear.
“Don’t you mean you want Ace-cream?” they say in unison, both looking at each other and laughing even more at my expense.
“Ha ha, you both are sooo hilarious. Can you guys drop it already?” I pull my hoodie over my head and keep my head down.
We made a stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. Roy and Sky are sharing a banana split while I’m eating a ‘solo’ small Oreo Blizzard with extra fudge on top. I stare at them awkwardly eating their ice cream. She looks happy, or at least she seems to be. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have a boyfriend who will look at me like that. They’re gazing at each other with their flirty googly eyes and it’s cheesy, but I can’t help but think how cute they are together.
Never mind. That thought lasted a whole two seconds. They’re now down each other’s throats and I feel like the third wheel. So—gross. Nope, correction. As he grabs the side of her ass, I absolutely know I am the third wheel. They have no shame and obviously need a room. That’s my cue to go.
“Sky, I’ll catch up with you later. My mom just texted and needs me to pick up my brother from school.”
“Alright, I’ll call you when I get home. Love ya, Luna.”
“Love ya too,” I mumble, a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. I walk away waving a ‘goodbye’ hand up in the air.
Skylar and I have been friends since fourth grade and I can’t remember a time when she didn’t call me by my last name, Luna. I have no idea why she doesn’t like calling me Diana and I’ve never bothered to ask her.
Anyway, I hate to use my brother as an excuse to slip away, but I know that’s the only way she would let me leave. She knows how sensitive I can be about my brother with having his ‘challenges’ and all. That’s another way of saying he ‘acts out,’ as so nicely his case manager and teacher like to often tell me and my mom.
I’m closer to my apartment building now. It’s a five-story walk-up, no elevator, and we live on the fourth floor. Needless to say, I get my exercise in on a daily basis with those stairs alone. Not that I like to exercise, even though I should, it just feels like such a chore that I have to make time for. I walk a lot anyway and the view isn’t bad. The New York City skyline is right across the river. I can even see the Empire State Building from my bedroom window.
I get to my building and open the glass door and step into the entrance area before the lobby doors. On the right side, there’s a bunch of flat mailbox slots against the wall, each having their own bell under it. I forgot my keys today, so I find my bell and ring it to get buzzed in. I hope my mom is home already.
When I hear the second door buzz, a feeling of relief washes over me. Now I won’t have to sit on this step. I walk into the lobby and make my way up the stairwell. I’m passing each floor, like always, every floor has a different aroma to it. That’s what’s bad about living in an apartment building. You get the mix of smells from everyone’s cooking. It doesn’t smell like just one type of food. It’s a jumble of cultural foods all in one, and it’s not necessarily a good smell at times.
When I get to my floor, it always has a mix of Hispanic food with something else that I can’t quite ever figure out. Finally, I get to my door and my mom opens it for me, and the smell of garlic, tomato sauce, and meat immediately hits my nostrils and awakens my senses. My mom must be cooking my favorite. Spaghetti and meatballs. As much as I love my Hispanic food, Italian food is always a winner at my place.
My mom greets me and heads back into the kitchen. Our kitchen isn’t that big. There’s enough space just for the fridge, the stove, and the sink. We have a counter long enough to fit two stools under it. We use it for two purposes, the space to prepare food and also to eat on since there isn’t enough space for a table and chairs. So, since my mom is cooking, we sit in the living room.
