Excerpt from Love Story
I see her, and my heart cracks. She hasn’t taken off those ridiculous shoes, the spike heels have sunk all the way into the sand, driving her weight backward, even though her shoulders are rolled forward.
My girl looks broken, and I’m realizing that a crooked nose wasn’t nearly enough punishment for this Oscar guy.
I walk slowly toward her. My boots and jeans aren’t exactly beach friendly, but I ignore this. I ignore everything except Lucy. The gentle sound of the surf drowns out any sound of her crying, which somehow makes the tears running down her cheeks all the more like a punch in the gut.
I should have thought of something to say. Should have tried to figure out if she wants me to offer to beat up the guy, or tell her he’s not worth it, or that she’s a hundred—thousand—times more beautiful than the other girl . . .
None of that matters. There’s no talking, there’s not even thinking. There’s only doing, and I slowly reach out, my hand on her shoulder as I pull her around to me, my movements a little rough.
She comes easily, her face against my shoulder, her hot breath against my thin T-shirt with a shuddering sigh.
I wrap one arm around her waist, the other cupping the back of her head as I pull her close. She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, just clenches her fingers into my shirt as she buries her face against my chest.