Chapter 31 Smashing It as a Girlfriend
Smashing It as a Girlfriend
Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John and Kiki Dee blasts through the car’s speakers while Jake and I practice for the talent show.
The Moron pack is leaving this night, and that got me thinking.
Jake has done a lot for me, and the way his friends can sometimes dismiss him as if he doesn’t have feelings enraged me.
Then I remembered one of our conversations where I called him out for not getting mad.
So, in some type of effort, I’m taking him to a rage room just outside Mailview, as a surprise.
My dad took me there probably a year after my mom left, and I think I don’t need to say I used it to my full potential.
I’ve rarely been there ever since, but if I’m really worked up and just about to burst emotionally, I find a way to get myself in there as a way of coping.
Impulsively, I stop the song, and he shuts up.
“Hey, that was my part!”
“You have to talk to them. Riden and the boys?” I clarify, and he huffs while resting his elbow on the window. “They shouldn’t joke about something so important to you, and it clearly affects you.”
“Look, this is just how guys are. We bully each other about everything, but defend each other with our lives. Riden has gotten in trouble for sticking up for me with other guys-”
“I’m not talking about Riden. He jokes, but he also acknowledges your talent. It’s a healthy balance. The other two- Just, god, I’m pissed off just by thinking about their condescending tone.”
He turns to me, crossing his arms.
“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”
“No, I’m not. Even though you can be very arrogant and cocky, and annoying about some things, you’re fragile about your dream. I listened to the songs West, you’re good, they have substance.” I glance at him while turning the wheel.
“You what?!”
“I bribed someone, but it doesn’t matter.
The point is, you’re more than the joker you let everyone see, and you’re more talented than you let others believe.
” We’re getting closer to the place. “I may be a bitch sometimes, and many people may see me as this closed-off person, but I never hide what I like and my passions. The stuff that makes me who I am.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs, doing something close to pouting because he knows I’m right.
“It’s like, you only let people see the tip of the iceberg and show yourself as a shallow, flirty jock, who parties too much, when there’s so much more depth to you that it could touch the bottom of the ocean.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I glance at him, and he’s smiling, a quiet smile while looking at me.
“What?”
“You’re very ferocious when defending someone.” Pause. “I never thought I’d be one of those people.”
That- Yeah, why was I so worked up? Maybe this is living proof that we’ve really become friends. I’ve only ever spoken like this about my family and Allison.
I turn red in no time, and I don’t know why, but I feel embarrassed. For getting so worked up about him like I would with a worldwide issue.
I press play on the song and start singing slowly, trying really hard to cool down and ignore the fact that I’m visibly red.
I pull up to the parking lot, and he looks around, visibly confused. We’re in one of those small malls with a variety of stores, so there’s no hint whatsoever.
He follows me, hands in his pockets, strutting behind me.
I touch the handle to Smashing It! and the complaining starts.
“A rage room?”
“Would you trust me?”
“I don’t know why you keep insisting, you know, most of the time I find your stubbornness endearing, but this time-”
“Hey, Dustin.” I greet, letting him ramble to himself.
“Hi, Maddie.”
Jake stops, looks at Dustin, the handsome, older PT, and puts an arm around me.
“Hi, Jake, her boyfriend, nice to meet you.” He extends his hand, and I try really hard not to grab the bridge of my nose.
Dustin laughs, a deep laughter, and Jake shifts beside me, adjusting his posture.
“The room’s ready for you. It has been a slow summer, not enough mad people in the world.” He smiles, ever so charming, and I interject before Jake does.
“Believe me, right now, we count as about a hundred.”
Dustin points at me, laughing like a dad, and Jake is still eyeing him suspiciously.
He passes us the liability waiver, and I just sign it off and pass the pen to Jake.
“So, you’re coming in with us?” Jake asks.
“No, man, I usually leave the smashing to the customers.” Dustin dismisses.
“Pity…” Jake mutters under his breath.
When we’re done in the lobby, Dustin takes us to our weapons and stretches his arm out, letting us pick our delicacy.
“I’m really feeling the crowbar today.” I reach for it and take it.
I look at Jake, waiting for him, and it’s like he’s still not quite sure how he ended up here.
“The baseball bat, I guess.”
Dustin then takes us to get suited up with our coveralls, safety helmets, and gloves.
As soon as we’re geared up, Dustin checks it and then lets us in.
“Any song requests?”
“The usual. Oh, unless…” I let Jake weigh in, and he dismisses it with his hand.
Dustin throws a thumbs-up and then closes the door.
“So we just-”
Breaking Dishes by Rihanna starts blaring through the room, and Jake stops wide-eyed.
I’m no stranger to this, so, holding on to my crowbar, I dive for an old TV, immediately breaking the visor. I hit one or five times and then stop, gasping for air and gesture for Jake to do something.
He shrugs, confused, and I go to the corner of the room, pick up a dish, and throw it at him, no warning.
As a reflex, he swings the bat and breaks it right off.
And from there, it’s like I unleash a monster.
He keeps telling me to throw more until there aren’t any more dishes, so he just moves on to the old electronics surrounding the room.
I leave him there and start smashing stuff myself, and that’s when I, too, become a rage-consumed girl.
Every shitty thing that happened to me crosses my mind, and I break things until I physically can’t anymore.
Half an hour was spent in no time, and abruptly, the music stops.
Jake and I look at each other, chests rising up and down, and find the storm in each other’s eyes.
“That was…”
“Yeah.” I agree, even though he didn’t utter a word.
Freeing. Amazing. Weight lifting.
I look intently at him and see his eyes glossing over and then well up.
“Oh, sorry, I don’t know-” He looks at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from coming.
“I get it.” I shrug, and he nods, shaking his head, still trying to keep him from releasing all the built-up emotion in him.
I take a deep breath and, without overthinking it, I throw my arms around him.
“For fuck’s sake, West, just cry.” I hold onto him, and for a few seconds, it’s like he’s too stunned to do anything.
And then… His arms envelop me, and nothing has ever felt quite so right in the world.
He rests his chin on top of my head, but doesn’t exactly budge.
We stay like this for what seems like forever, and I only know he did indeed cry when we finally break apart, and I look up to see him rubbing his eyes, a trail of tears down his cheek.
“Guess I don’t seem so uplifting in your eyes now, do I?” He laughs it off, and I punch his arm.
“Yeah, you’re right, gross, don’t ever talk to me again.” I pretend disgust, and he laughs quietly. “No, but seriously, the moody, traumatized role is already taken, go find yourself a new one.”
“You don’t have to be that way, too, you know?” He gazes into me, and wow, this is intimidating.
“It’s just easier to be angry all the time, so when bad things happen, you’re already kind of expecting.” I shrug, not even feeling like it’s too personal. For me, it’s just the universal truth.
“But when does that leave you time to be at peace?” He crosses his arms, and I purse my lips.
“It doesn’t.”
We stand in silence for a few seconds until the intercom is heard.
“That was beautiful, man.” Dustin says, and Jake’s head snaps to where the sound came from. “I’m getting you out now.” And we hear the intercom shut off.
“He was listening?” Jake says, indignant, and I try not to laugh.
“He literally said a million times that he would be watching us and checking in.”
“Are you telling me that manly man who probably does charity shirtless photoshoots with puppies on his social media saw me cry?”
Laughter bubbles out of me, and Jake stresses before my eyes.
“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!”
I laugh even more, and the door behind us opens.
“You would have known if you weren’t too busy glaring at him.” I throw, smiling, before I exit the room, Dustin holding the door open for us.
He then helps us get cleaned off, and no one utters a word. I try really hard not to break into laughter each time Jake deepens his voice around Dustin.
We get out of Smashing It! and I let out my laughter, and it’s like, as much as he wants to pout, he can’t help laughing a little too.
We get in the car, and before I turn it on, he stops me.
“You were right.” His brief pain flashes across his eyes. “I don’t get angry, and honestly, it’s exhausting always being so optimistic all the time.” Pause. “This helped. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I smile to myself and turn on the car.
“For the record, I don’t mind crying. It’s just really unfair to cry in front of that man.” Jake justifies, and I laugh.
I get it, if the roles were reversed and some beautiful, apparently perfect woman saw me falling apart and being an utter mess, that would wound my ego too.
“And I’m gonna talk to the guys tonight.” He adds, and that makes me happier than it should.
I turn on the radio, and Hit Em Up by 2Pac starts playing, and Jake and I automatically say the intro with him and rap every part of the song we can.