I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
“I keep warning you I’m a heartbreaker,” I warn him, toying with the plastic straw in my cup. There’s a coy edge to what I’m saying, but each time I say it, it sounds less and less like a joke. And I’ve said it a bunch of times now.
Obviously he’s noticed. “You keep saying that,” he says. “And I don’t think you know what that word means.” It’s a half-nod to The Princess Bride.
“I can’t imagine you breaking someone’s heart,” he says. “I mean, you’re so damn nice.”
“Awww thanks,” I say, blushing. “You think that now.”
He forces a corny evil laugh, like you’d hear from a villain in a low-budget movie.
“Seriously, though,” I say. “I’m no different than anyone else. Everyone is capable of cruelty. It just takes the right circumstances.”
“Page,” he says, putting his hand on mine. “You only believe that because of the way you were raised. And I can’t hold that against you. But it’s basically my mission now to show you that you’re wrong.”
“That I’m incapable of cruelty?” I ask. “Good luck with that.”
“No,” he says. “That I am. Towards you anyway.”
“I’m going to be the one person who never hurts you.”
We don’t always get a choice though, in whether we hurt someone or not, I think. And I almost say it. But he’s smiling. It’s a nice moment. I don’t want to ruin it.
“I think,” I say instead, “that it’s the nicest people who can hurt us the most of all.”
Several months later, we walk away from each other, each bearing scars from the other. So much has been destroyed. Virtually nothing still stands between us.
But it was a beautiful storm, and I regret nothing.
Books by Page Turner: