Break Your Heart

Break Your Heart

By

Rene
e Matteo

201
3

Charles Towne Publishing

Charleston, South Carolina

  Charles Towne Publishing

             
              Charleston, South Carolina 29401

             
             
www.charlestownepublishing.com

Copyright © 2013 by Renee Matteo

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13:
978-0615750590

ISBN-10
:
 
0615750591

First Charles Towne Publishing edition
April 2013

Manufactured in the United States of America

For information regarding special discounts on bulk purchases, please contact Charles Towne Publishing at
[email protected]

One

Grant Foster sat atop the hood of his Chevy Suburban leaning back carelessly into the night’s breeze. Next to him, a h
alf finished bottle of beer and a guitar worn from endless play.  His final year of high school had flown by in the blink of an eye leaving the lazy days and relaxation of summer swirling in its wake. The joys and simplicity known only by summer would soon be behind him as he prepared to leave Kipshaw at the end of the season for his first year of college. 

Kipshaw, Ohio barely made a dent on the map. Situated south of Cleveland, it was a small town often unnoticed. Most who knew of Kipshaw lived there. It was the kind of place where everyone knew one another, and most worked hard to keep it that way
.
The entire town could be accessed by the two-lane stretch of Washington Avenue that ran mostly without attraction for six miles through the center of town.  Smith’s, the only non-chain drug store for miles, sat in the same place on Washington Avenue filling prescriptions and treating small children to candy delights for generations. Unless you were looking for basic needs, frozen custard or the service of a tailor, one would have to travel outside Kipshaw. 

As Kipshaw's teens entered high school, they spent their nights hanging out on the benches of Washington Ave.  With a few short months, and their newfound freedom worn, the loitering would move elsewhere.  This year it had moved to Chris Weaver’s back yard.  The son of traveling salesmen and an often-absent mother, Chris’s doors and yard were always left open. It was understood that on any given Saturday night you would find a party made up of the same fifty kids ranging from high-school
juniors to freshman in college whose roots grounded them in Kipshaw.

Same old crowd,
Grant thought to himself as he watched over his classmates drinking beers and singing along to the songs he sang as he strummed his guitar. It was around this time every Saturday night that song requests would be made by his classmates. Most often Grant would put on a show, holding the crowd with his talent and creativity, but tonight he wasn’t in the mood. Now, with only the fifth song behind him, Grant decided to close the impromptu performance with a request of his own.

“Alright, alright, you all know this one, it’s
a Foster Favorite,” he shouted. He had to laugh, being the center of attention as he held his guitar in his hand. Although he had known most everyone in Kipshaw since kindergarten it always struck him by how different he felt than his peers. It was as if he was some sort of a celebrity, and by no means did he think this in a Hollywood or pompous way.  It seemed everyone knew of Grant Foster, or perhaps more accurately, the stories of Grant Foster. Pages of his life swirled feverishly around the Kipshaw rumor mill. Because he kept to himself, never bothering to respond to rumors, the fire remained fueled leaving many to speculate without anything more. Small town gossip defined. He cleared his mind, dismissing the thoughts to focus on what he loved--music. “Here we go...“ Grant belted into song. “The uh, bravest thing I’ve ever done was to run away and hide…”

****

Gina
Fotelli gazed out into a dark night, watching as the people around her chatted away in a dull hum. In Kipshaw for the weekend, a place she found herself escaping to ever since Julie invited her to a football game last fall. The best word she could find to describe Kipshaw to her friends back home was cozy. It reminded her of the typical small American town where everyone fit in and knew where and how. It was a far cry from Lawrence, the city she grew up in an hour east where it was unheard of to find a home sitting on more than an acre, the norm in Kipshaw. 

A commotion in the distance drew Gina's attention off the side of the deck and into the back y
ard.  A group from the party were singing in unison like a tone-deaf choir, gathered around an old black truck parked on the lawn. “What is this kumbaya?” she joked. Gina stood in a circle on the deck with four other girls, including her best friend Julie.

“
Kumbaya? No. Grant Foster? Yes.” Julie countered, following Gina's stare. Julie was short, barely 5’2” with bright blond hair, flawless skin and inviting blue eyes. Her soft, docile, sweet appearance gave no indication to her loud and aggressive personality. Julie had presence.

“Grant Foster,” Gina said aloud but to herself. She racked her brain quickly remembering the colorful stories that had spilled out during drinks. His alleged affair with a young teacher at Kipshaw, based on his flirtatious ways and the swooning the older women in Kipshaw tried to hide over Grant.  The stories, surely too fantastic to be true, but fabricated gossip that made for good conversation. Gina looked over at Julie who glanced back at her with a smile to indicate she knew what Gina was thinking.

Julie began to laugh once more before shaking her head in confirmation and then returning her attention to the other girls in their circle.

Julie and Gina had been friends from the moment they met during a visit to Julie’s Grandmother, Gina’s next-door neighbor. Both seven year
s old at the time, the two became quick friends, spending most of the summer together. When Julie’s visit came to a close, the girls proudly declared themselves pen pals and wrote weekly. The letters had slowed as they entered their teenage years. It wasn’t until they were reunited at Julie’s grandmother’s surprise 70
th
birthday party that they rekindled their friendship while sneaking off to share an already half consumed bottle of wine. A few weeks later Julie invited Gina to a home football game in Kipshaw.

Throughout the course of her junior year Gina's trips to Kipshaw became more frequent. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy life in Lawrence; she was by all standards popular, surrounded by a good group of friends, and a center of interest among boys. Still, Gina couldn’t help but feel a little lost and overwhelmed by the city she called
home. Now, for the first time, here in Kipshaw, she felt a little bit of that magic she had heard about growing up... those unforgettable high school years.

“Come on.” With a quick tug to Gina’s hand, Julie grabbed Gina’s attention and pulled her off the deck and into the yard.

“Grant Foster?” Gina asked. “Isn’t that
the
guy…”

“Yep,” Julie replied.

Yep? She didn’t even know what I was going to ask
her
! She stared at Julie’s back as she walked carefully behind her towards the crowd realizing she couldn’t hear her anymore so asking her question again would be silly. Gina brushed away her thoughts, concentrating more on her walk now, as she was pulled through the grass, careful not to stumble.

A handful of kids surr
ounded the blazing fire to the right, listening to a thoroughly intoxicated senior tell a story about their class trip to Washington D.C. 

Julie slowed their walk as they reached the group of kids surrounding Grant. “I’ve known Grant my whole life,”
she began. “Outside of school and the Saturday nights around here, he pretty much keeps to himself. I don’t really get Grant. He was a strange kid, but he grew up to be pretty cool. Gorgeous, huh? Wickedly intelligent and a musical genius. Wherever Grant is, his guitar is. And whenever Grant has his guitar...”

Gina could barely make out what she said as Julie’s words disappeared into a mumble under the mass of teenagers who were signing along to the song. They pushed their way further into the group struggling to stand as the crowd moved about. Gina took a moment to look at the faces around her, recognizing a few guys she had been introduced to during her last visit. “What song is he playing?” Gina shouted. She turned to Julie to see her moving to the other side of the fire. “Talking to yourself Gina...nice”. She smiled politely to the two guys standing to her left.  They were watching her, as she stood alone, feeling and looking out of place. 

****

Who is that?
Grant thought to himself, peering into the crowd as he finished up the last lines of the song. She had long dark brown hair, a tiny frame, dressed in perfectly fitted jeans, a tight white tee, and a gray unzipped hoodie. Something about her presence caught him. Not so much the way she looked, though beautiful, there was something capturing about her. Now, with countless people in front of him, he was aware of only her.  He was unable to place a name to her face, noting she clearly wasn’t from Kipshaw.  Grant knew everyone in the small town and was sure he would remember a face like hers. As he finished up the song, the crowd disbursed as quickly as it had gathered, taking his fixation with it. Where she was going? Even she didn't look sure.

“Hey,” Grant shouted. Suddenly aware of the words that weren't meant to escape his mouth, Grant felt a wave of unexpected uneasiness pass by. 

She turned around and froze in his stare.

“
Yeah, you?” he confirmed. He watched her stop in his gaze, looking as equally uneasy as he had felt a moment ago. His eyes stayed locked on her in the darkness, watching her bring her right hand up and through her hair as she looked around. 

“Where is Julie
?
” Gina whispered quietly to herself making sure the words didn’t form on her lips.  She searched her blank thoughts with what to do next as she felt butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach.
She quickly scanned the dark back yard, squinting her eyes as she struggled to make out the details of the images scattering around in the distance. Despite her confidence and inviting demeanor first encounters often made her uneasy...especially in Kipshaw. “Hi.” She smiled softly, hesitantly taking a few short steps towards him. Her heartbeat seemed to double as she approached the truck. “I‘m Gina,” she replied.

Grant gave a slight smile and a nod.

She took a few more steps towards him, looking up as he sat at the edge of his truck, his feet resting comfortably on the bumper below him.

“Grant,” he stated.

“My friend Julie, she goes to school here. I don’t live here.”  It was all she could find to say as she continued to stare up at him on the truck.

“Ah, yes. I heard some of the guys talking about you.”

She waited for him to offer up more than that. What they said, why she had never seen him, anything, but he simply looked back at her with a suspicious smile.  With no other words coming to mind, all Gina could manage was to simply look back at him.

He patted twice at a space next to him on the hood of the truck.

Her intrigue and interest for him seemed to smother her thoughts and push her forward. She took a few large steps towards the truck, propped her right foot up onto the bumper and attempted the climb onto the hood. As she began to bear weight on the bumper her foot slowly slipped on the metal giving way for her body to fall hard to the ground. She hit the earth with more of a thud than she anticipated feeling shocks of pain shoot through her right thigh.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I am such an idiot.
Heat instantly rose up through her body and to her face as it burned her cheeks with embarrassment. She lie still on the ground biting her bottom lip and squeezing her eyes shut hoping to absorb some of the pain and humiliation. She took in a deep breath and let a light laugh escape her lips before scrambling to her feet. Gina pulled her hands over her face, peeking through her fingers at him as she froze in the moment of embarrassment. Despite her humiliation she felt a chuckle slip through her lips.

Grant stared down at her, hi
s lips pressed tightly together, holding back a laugh of his own.

She bowed her head to the ground, shaking it from side-to-side
, “Ok, let’s try this again,” she muttered. She lifted her right foot onto the bumper and rested her hands down on the hood for support.

Before she started her attempt,
Grant reached down, placing both of his hands on her shoulders, turning her body around and pulling her back against the truck. Using only his right arm, he scooped her up and gently put her on the truck next to him. He withdrew his arm from her body and clasped his hands in his lap.

The touch of his hands and arm on her sent the most electric wave of excitement through her body. Shocked and exhilarated by the moment, Gina felt her heart crawl up to her throat choking any words that wanted to come out. She could feel her eyes growing larger and wider as she felt eagerness and anticipation sweep through her.