14 | Throw My Heart Into A Trash Can

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"MY GORGEOUS GIRLFRIEND is finally here!" Louis yelled, bolting across the stage.

I had barely even walked through the door before I was swept off my feet and spun around in circles. I wasn't sure how much sugar the boy had for breakfast, because he was definitely more energetic than usual.

"Hi Louis," I smiled, letting him set me back down, "how are you?"

"Honestly, I wasn't too good," he beamed sheepishly, "but then you walked in the door and I felt better."

ohmygosh.

"That was..." I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck, "really cute of you to say, actually."

"I meant it."

"Thanks Mr. Partridge," I grinned, patting the side of his cheek, "I have to go check in with my interns, but good luck in rehearsal."

"Goodbye, darling."

"Are you calling me darling now?" I laughed, walking away, "go run your lines, Louis."

As much as I loved hearing the adorable things that came out of my boyfriend's mouth, I knew I'd end up blushing so hard my face would be red for the next hour.

But I loved it anyways.

Crossing the stage briskly, I scanned the perimeters for Caleb, who was my running-mate for today's work. We were supposed to re-paint the proscenium while the actors rehearsed their first scenes, and I wasn't looking forward to it all that much. Painting wasn't my thing.

"Good morning," I smiled, walking up behind the boy, "ready to start painting?"

Caleb laughed, handing me a paintbrush, "absolutely not."

"That's the spirit," I laughed.

As we began to finish our tasks, I heard the sounds of poetical acclimation echo into the circular space. Louis was reciting one of his scenes with the boy who played Mercutio, and they were goofing off with their plastic swords.

And then she walked in.

Some sort of angelic incarnation came twirling in from the wings, strands of her hair braided back into a makeshift crown. She seemed to have known all the actors, because they all waved when they saw her, and she smiled back. She had the same red dress I owned, with tiny white flowers, but she had added a belt to fit it better.

I paused for a moment, the dripping paintbrush limp in my hands, as I watched her twirl her way up to Louis. She must have been introducing herself, because she stuck out her perfectly manicured hand towards him.

"Who's that?" I mumbled, glancing at the boy next to me, "she's really pretty."

Caleb looked up, "that's Nora."

"The girl who's playing Juliet?"

"Yeah, they brought her all the way from Paris for the part, apparently."

So she was French too. I wish I was close enough to hear her accent; it probably sounds just as angelic as she looks.

"She's...really pretty," I whispered under my breath, gazing at her features.

She looked like she was the person artists would sculpt into beautiful statues. Maybe she was one, I would believe it. She was gorgeous, the kind of pretty you never thought was possible, and I'm not over exaggerating. She was almost so lovely I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"Stop it," Caleb said, cutting my thoughts off, "I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" I fibbed, gazing away bashfully.

"You're comparing yourself to Nora."

"I'm not," I sighed, "the opposite actually."

"You're comparing her to you?"

"No, I'm just wondering how she looks like that."

"Stop it!" Caleb urged, nudging me, "I know she's pretty, but Louis isn't that kind of guy."

I knew how the situation seemed, like I didn't trust Louis to be loyal, but it wasn't like that at all. I didn't trust myself. Nora was just so...impossibly unreal, that I didn't trust myself not to throw myself into a pit of sorrow. I wasn't worried if Louis wanted to date her instead, because he really didn't seem like that kind of guy.

I mean, I would want to date her too, if I got the chance!

Or maybe that was the jealousy in me. I didn't want to be her, or be with her, I just wanted her to be gone. I was just trying my best not to admit that I felt threatened. Jeez, I wish I could just shove my heart down a trash can so I wouldn't have to overthink all the time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mumbled, picking my paintbrush back up.

Caleb obviously didn't believe me.

"Louis wouldn't do that to you," he said, "just try to relax."

Resuming my painting, I glanced over at the two actors and saw a little beam of validation. Nora went to brush her hand against Louis' arm, but he took a step back. It was subtle, but I noticed it.

Maybe I shouldn't be worried.

He's not Keith.

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