"The man that hath no music in himself—nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds—is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."

—William Shakespeare

Only two logical options were before me.

I could have ignored Caleb's message and tried to continue on with my day, as if he never contacted me at all.

Instead, I went with the alternative choice, and decided to find out what he wanted. My main objective was to avoid Caleb's predictable, incessant messages, or worse yet, his likely attempt to show up uninvited again. Time was going to be precious for the next two days, and the last thing I wanted was to waste unnecessary minutes texting back and forth with Caleb.

I garnered all the confidence that I could muster, hit the call button, and held the phone to my ear with a clammy palm. After three rings, a flat voice boomed through my earpiece.

"Hey," Caleb's voice was deliberately serious.

"You wanted to talk?" I ignored his greeting and tried to get right down to it.

"Uh, yeah, I did." Something in his severe tone sent a small chill down my spine.

"I'm listening." My reply was somber.

"I'm really sorry about the other night." His tone expressed no emotion, making it quite difficult for me to believe him.

"Well, your apology doesn't make it okay, but I appreciate it, anyway." I sounded more courageous than I actually felt.

"I know, I'm a jackass. I really don't know what I was thinking. I need you to forgive me."

This conversation was starting to bring me back a few years, when every indiscretion would be dismissed with a simple apology from Caleb. He broke me down, screamed his worst at me, maimed me, trapped me, and used my insecurities against me, just to keep me from leaving.

Every time I smelled a perfume on his shirt that wasn't mine, every time he destroyed a possession that held meaning for me, and every time his hands were too rough on my fragile body, Caleb expected me to get over it.

When he lost control, Caleb wanted me to believe that it was my fault—always my fault—and I deserved this. When he cooled down, Caleb wanted me to believe in his false promises for a better tomorrow that never seemed to come. More than anything else, Caleb wanted me to believe that I could never do any better than him. For a time, I did believe. I believed it to my core.

But not anymore.

"Caleb, I'm not going to accept your apology. If that makes things difficult for you, well, I suggest you start learning how to deal with it." I felt my skin warming in response to my rising irritation.

"So, you hate me, Brooke? There's nothing I can do to make it right?" I could picture Caleb pacing as he spoke the words. Rejection was never part of his plan, and I had to admit, I felt empowered for once.

"We've been over this, Caleb. You're not good for me. When I'm with you, I become someone I despise. I never want to be her again. I won't ever be her again."

"I love you, Brooke! I fucking love you. Doesn't that mean anything?" There was a slight hoarseness to his voice that was not there before. Momentarily, I felt a sting of sympathy.

I contemplated his words and silently reminded myself of the many reasons why Caleb could not be a part of my life in any sense.

"If you loved me, really loved me, you would have done things much differently." My response was cold, but he deserved much worse.

"Let me show you that I can change, then. Come have dinner with me this weekend?" His offer made me inaudibly scoff.

"I won't be around. I have plans," I replied flatly, and honestly.

"Doing what?" Caleb pressed.

"That's really none of your business. I don't want anything to do with you, Caleb. We are over. This is not a temporary break like before. I am through with all of this shit. I really don't know how else to say it, to make it seep into your head. For the hundredth time, we're done. So, is that all you needed to discuss with me? Because, if so, I'd like to go now. I'm busy."

Instantly, I felt proud for my brash, yet firm, poise. There was an eerie moment of silence before Caleb spoke again.

"You know I can't lose you." He breathed heavily into the phone. "You know that."

"You really should have thought about that before. Are you finished?" I lashed back.

"You'll change your mind, Brooke. You're just being difficult as usual. But if I can't have you, nobody will." His words quickened my pulse, and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"Are you threatening me?" I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Take it as you will." Caleb's monotone voice cut off abruptly.

"Haven't you done enough damage as it is?" I said into the line before realizing he had already hung up.

As soon as I placed my phone down, I decided to push this mess with Caleb to the furthest corner of my mind. He had taken enough from me—I repeated it to myself—and I would not allow him to take any more of my time or happiness. He could huff and puff all he wanted. Nothing was going to change.

The lack of control that Caleb had over me was surely bothering him, but that didn't matter in the least to me. Surely, he would find another girl to focus his efforts on soon. As soon as I thought it, I shuddered for the hypothetical girl, and pity overwhelmed me. Hopefully, he could change for her, in ways he never could for me. If not, though, I hoped it would not take her as long to leave him, as it had taken me.

The chilled fruit juice medley from the refrigerator hit my lips, straight from the bottle, and washed away the dry feeling in the back of my throat. Somehow, with each slightly unfeminine gulp, I felt the thoughts of Caleb blurring until they were no longer present in my mind. Once I finished nearly half of the large bottle, I decided to get out of the apartment for a while.

I shuffled through my overstuffed, white purse and pulled out a stack of unused gift cards, remembering the certificate that my mom and Adam had given to me, for my birthday last year, to a salon down the road. One quick glance at myself in the large living room mirror proved what I'd known for months—I could've used a good trim.

With a deep sigh, I threw the bag over my shoulder and stormed out of the apartment.

...

"I just want to clean up the split ends, and get this frizz under control. Maybe an inch or two off, please," I told the stylist as I sat in the chair to get my hair washed and conditioned.

She was a little intimidating in a blush-pink, knee-length dress, and her blonde hair pushed back into a sleek ponytail. As she covered my neck with a towel, I noticed her nameplate said Amber. She smiled warmly at me, easing my slight discomfort, and switched the water attachment on, testing the temperature on her hand.

"Okay, I can definitely do that. If I may make a suggestion though?" I could smell the hair products being used on the customer in the chair next to mine. Somehow, the shampoo at salons always smelled intoxicating to me—way better than anything I could find in a department store.

"Sure," I agreed.

"We're having a tinting special this week. It's half price until Friday. I'm supposed to offer it to all of my clients, so no sweat if you want to stick with your original plan."

My gift certificate would have been enough to cover the service and then some, and I hadn't changed my style in so long. It would've been nice to have the extra confidence when I met Julian again. The idea of a change seemed slightly scary, but exciting, almost like it would physically mark a new change in me. Maybe that was just what I needed.

In the past, I would have needed Caleb's input and permission before making a decision like this. Continually, I had to remind myself that those days were over. I could make my own choices. I could, and I would. Defiance surged in my blood again.

"You know what? That sounds good. Let's go with that. What color do you suggest?" I asked Amber.

"I think an all-over, semi-permanent red tint would look great on you. We won't need to bleach it first. It will be subtle, but noticeably shaded." Amber switched the water off, without wetting my hair.

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." I smiled at Amber and nodded slightly.

"You'll love it. We'll wait to wash your hair until after the dye has set in, then," she said, while leading me to her work station with a grin.

I sat in the surprisingly comfortable chair for an indeterminable amount of time, looking like a monster with pieces of foil bunched up on my scalp.

Amber took a break from the small talk with me to accept a phone call outside, so I decided to snap a quick picture of myself looking like an alien. I intentionally grimaced and took the photo in the mirror, then sent it off to Laina and awaited her laughter-filled reply.

All the while, I ignored the pang of unease at the fact I hadn't heard from Julian since that morning... but at least Caleb hadn't tried to contact me again.

When Amber returned from her phone call, she led me back to the sinks, to rinse and wash the dye from my hair, before cutting and styling it. The sweet-smelling suds, and scalp massage, did little to calm the growing doubts of my very unlike me rash hair change decision.

Once seated back in the styling station, I kept my eyes on the ground. If my hair turned out horrendous, there was little I could do to fix it before I left for Orlando. Amber snipped the ends of my mid-back-length hair and asked for permission to layer it.

Before I knew it, my hair was blow dried and sprayed into place.

"You ready to see it? It turned out great!" Amber assured me, handing me a smaller mirror in addition to the large one in front of me.

I finally stole a glance at the girl in front of me and almost didn't recognize myself.

My hair was still long, and mostly straight, with big waves towards the ends. It was still dark, but distinctively lighter than before. The sunlight beamed into the window, hitting my strands and illuminating the glossy crimson and auburn tones, under my charcoal hair.

It had been so long since I'd done anything for myself, and this small change was the boost to my confidence that I desperately needed.

"You don't like it?" Amber spoke up, mistaking my silent awe as discontent.

"I... absolutely love it," I said, running my fingers through my side swept bangs.

"It suits you," Amber said while unbuttoning the black cape covering my front.

I paid and tipped Amber generously, while thanking her profusely. She handed me her business card and I tucked it away into my wallet. While walking outside, I made a mental note to call my mom to thank her and Adam for the gift certificate, and let her know how much I loved the services.

Once back at my apartment, I killed some time online by researching more information about the Tucson Telegram. Any facts I could relate to, or slip into conversation during the interview with Burt, would only help my chances at securing the job. I was starting to feel really confident that I would do just that.

After a long while, my stomach rumbled and reminded me to eat something, so I preheated my oven for a large baked potato. I wanted to stay awake as long as I could, so that I might have heard back from Julian before I fell asleep.

While dinner was baking, I sat on the couch with my notebook and penned some more random stanzas of poetry. More lines were crossed out than kept, and before I knew it, the microwave timer that I'd set was beeping. I turned the oven off and nearly forgot to use an oven mitt to grab the pan.

My nerves were starting to build at not hearing from Julian all day. I tried to focus on letting the potato cool for a few minutes. When I figured that enough time had passed, I tore the aluminum foil off, split the potato down the center, and sprinkled some shredded cheese onto it, before adding a spoonful of sour cream and chives. It smelled amazing and I used my fork to dive in immediately.

My slow chewing and slow dish cleaning did nothing to calm my spreading tension, nor did it provide adequate distraction from the fact that Julian was seemingly ignoring me. Was he?

My mind ran rampant with possibilities. I hoped endlessly that he still wanted to see me this weekend. Damn it. Did I do something wrong?

When I finally broke away from my thoughts to check the time, I found that, somehow, it was already fifteen minutes past midnight. I made my way upstairs to bed and crawled under the covers in my heavily air conditioned apartment. But I just couldn't take it anymore. I caved and sent him a quick, simple text message.

Midnight and officially Thursday now. I'll see you tomorrow! Going to try to sleep. Hope you had a good day. Goodnight, Julian.

Everything was fine. It had to be. I turned the lamp off next to my bed, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep well, without hearing from him. An hour later, my prediction was confirmed as I tossed and turned on the sheets. I could not get comfortable, and I could not figure out the reason for this incredible pressure in my chest.

As if he could sense my dwindling hope, my phone rang, and I released a sigh at the sound of Julian's sweet voice.

"Brooke, I'm so sorry I haven't spoken to you today. We were in and out of the airport, and reception was horrible."

Warm relief rushed through my veins at the same time that embarrassment washed over me. Why did I always assume the worst with Julian?

"It's okay. I just thought... I don't know... I thought something could have happened."

And I thought you might have changed your mind about seeing me, I thought.

"No, I'm okay. Everything's okay. Are you okay?" Julian asked, sounding tired.

"Yes, I'm much better now that I'm hearing your voice," I admitted before I could stop myself.

"I am as well. I was feeling jittery not being able to talk to you." Julian chuckled nervously.

It was dark in my bedroom, so I couldn't visually verify it even if I wanted to, but I knew I was blushing.

"Where are you?" I finally asked.

"We're in Orlando, finally. I'm sat here, in my hotel room. The bed feels amazing. Wait until you feel these pillows," he teased.

"Like lying your head on clouds?" I asked.

"Yes, and you're the angel's voice in my ear." His corny line made me laugh out loud.

"I knew you'd like that. Really I just said that to hear your laugh. I'm not such a cheesy Englishman." Julian cleared his throat softly. "So, what did you get up to today, beautiful?"

"I went to the hair salon, wrote a little bit, and made dinner. Now, I'm just lying in bed." I decided to omit the part about my phone argument with Caleb.

"I'm keeping you up? I'll let you go to sleep, Brooke," Julian offered.

"Stay on the phone with me." Rather than a request, or a demand, that came out sounding like pathetic begging. Really, it was.

"You don't have to ask me twice," Julian said in a low voice. "Close your eyes. I'll be here."

I shut my eyes as Julian asked me to, and felt the flood of fatigue spread over my body. Softly, Julian started singing to me. I'd never heard the melody before, but at once, it became my new favorite song in the entire world.

My thoughts slowed and my muscles relaxed instantaneously. Minutes passed, as his voice lightly trailed off, becoming softer and softer, until I could only hear the sound of him breathing. And though I couldn't be sure, I thought I heard Julian whispering something to me, just before the exhaustion managed to pull me under completely.

1. "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" (cover) by Anthem Lights

2. "Really Don't Care" by Demi Lovato

3. "What I Know" by Parachute