1.2 | Breakup Formula | ONGOING

09 | someday

0 9

s o m e d a y

The breakup formula was close to completion.

Days passed, and Joey had learnt to move on. He hardly ever mentioned Fiona anymore, and if he did, it was with complete neutrality. She was just another puzzle piece in the jigsaw of his past, another fragment of history.

And as for me, I couldn't say that I was progressing as well as Joey. I liked to think of myself as the stronger of us two, but when it came down to being honest with my feelings, I realised I wasn't.

For months, I had lived in self-pity and bitterness because of Lucas and the friends who had left me. And I entrapped myself in a state of stasis, where home and Savvy's were my only safe havens. But pushing Joey forward and helping him to get over his breakup and unconsciously forced me to get over my own too.

I wasn't completely over it.

But these things needed time. And, for the time being, I was perfectly fine with the gerunds: I was forgetting Lucas. I was getting over the breakup. I was going to be fine.

You see, I had spent ages trying to plan things ahead. Like with the breakup. I never expected for it to backfire. I never expected to lose all my friends in the process. Or with using Joey was a rebound, because he turned out to be so much more than that.

I figured all these out on one of those afternoons when Declan and Joey came into the diner with a full bag of cherries. Joey's usual bunch of friends was in their usual booths, and I was busy teaching Royce a rather difficult algebra problem when they entered.

"Cherry knot challenge part two," Declan announced loudly, catching the attention of half the people in the diner. "Who's in?"

Opposite me, Eloise groaned and buried her head in her arms. "Why am I even dating him?"

I laughed before turning back to Royce. "Factor x in," I told him, ignoring Declan who was waving the bag of cherries like it was the national flag and he was an Olympic athlete.

Royce grinned and shot me a quick wink. "I'd rather factor you in, to be honest."

It was the dreaded pick-up line, and I was thoroughly torn between discomfort and amusement. I opened my mouth to let out a laugh, but was stopped when Declan swiftly reached over to push a cherry into my mouth.

"Don't speak. Chew," he said, when I shot him an indignant glare. "And tie a knot - if you can."

Reluctantly, I chewed on the cherry, my tongue curling around the fruit as the sweet, tart juice trickled down my throat. "I don't want to tie a bloody knot - " I began, but Declan cut me off.

"Concentrate. I'm timing you." And he was. His lips were curved in a mischievous grin as he waved a stopwatch in front of my face.

"Is this even possible?" I argued helplessly, as the spectators around me increased in number.

Royce had pushed aside his maths homework to watch me, and so were a couple of the other boys. Eloise was coaching me through the steps in her usual gentle, patient manner, while Joey, like the absolute idiot that he was, was surveying me with an air of amusement, sticking his hand into the bag every now and then as he snacked on the cherries.

"Use the tip of your tongue and fold the stem in half around it," Eloise told me, using her fingers to show me the exact actions. "Around the tip of your tongue."

I attempted to follow her instructions, and almost choked in the process. "This isn't origami," I said at last, grabbing the nearest napkin so I could spit out the cherry stem, which was, by then, in bits and pieces because of my futile attempts. "My tongue isn't as skilful as my fingers are!"

"That's what she said," Royce mused, subsiding quickly as I shot him a deathly glare.

"Tying cherry knots isn't an indication of one's kissing techniques."

"Au contraire, mate," Declan grinned widely, before calmly biting into a cherry. "Or perhaps you don't want a certain someone to find out how terrible your kissing skills are?"

I knew exactly who he was referring to. And had Eloise not been there, I would've punched his arm without any hesitation. Or his chest. Or his face. Whichever seemed most appealing.

Unfortunately, Eloise was there and, at the moment, was stuffing another cherry into his mouth so he'd stop talking. I stuck my tongue out at Declan childishly before grabbing the nearest empty tray and heading back to the kitchen.

Joey went along with me, nudging me with irritating jabs and teasing laughter spilling from his lips every now and then. And when I looked up at him, noticed the bright smile on his face, I couldn't help but wonder if I had restored him to the person he was before Fiona came along.

Or maybe I didn't have to. With my help, he could become a completely new person - he'd lost some of his old self, held on to the rest, and any pain, any heartbreak that came along only made him stronger.

And that was for the best.

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But our story had not yet ended. Nor could Declan or Eloise or Mikel or anyone else, for that matter, hope that what loomed in the horizon was a happy, conclusive ending, because it wasn't. This wasn't a fairytale, and after that little episode, neither Joey nor I made a move to take things to the next level.

So when Declan, who had dropped by at Savvy's one afternoon, asked if either of us had mentioned our feelings for each other, my answer was still a firm no.

"Such a shame, though," he mused, before slanting me a wicked look from the corner of his eye. "Don't lie to me, Kira. When's the wedding, really?"

I smiled serenely. "Thirty-first February."

His forehead creased in confusion for a second until a flicker of realisation dawned on his face and he shot me a glare. "Very funny."

"I know. I'm such a riot."

Declan was about to reply with a taunting remark, when something caught his eye and he froze. "Bloody hell," he swore, before pulling me down onto the nearest bench, sliding in onto the one opposite me.

"What?"

"Shit," he muttered, before glancing quickly around the diner. "Is Joey still at tennis practice?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No. He's in the back. Mikel needed some help unloading the new stock of fruits."

Declan let out another uncharacteristic swear word, seemingly incapable of saying anything other than that,

I frowned, but a quick glance at the counter made me realise that there was a girl standing there, waiting to place her order. Patting Declan sympathetically on the head, I stood up. "I'll be right back."

"No!" he hissed, and pulled me back down.

"Declan, there's a customer - "

"That's not a customer, for goodness' sake, that's Fiona."