Page 17 of The Story Of Us

And neither does she.

“It’s fine, sorry, just a misunderstanding.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to focus on our knees still touching. She hasn’t moved away and she hasn’t asked to work with someone else. That has to mean something.

“Well, okay then. Make sure you two don’t overwork yourselves. We know it’s your last year, but we want you to have some fun with this,” Mr. Hale says, and they both leave to move on to the next pair of students.

She finally moves her knee away from mine and I have to stop myself from chasing it. It’s the first physical contact we’ve had in months, and my skin burns from the touch like her knee has left a physical scar on mine. I wish it would because I worry it won’t ever happen again.

“Violet,” I say her name quietly, and when she looks at me, I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. She’s closed off to me now, a barrier between us that leaves me clueless as to what she’s feeling. I decide to just say what I want to say because even though she’s agreed to work on this project with me, that doesn’t mean she’ll actually talk to me. We both know there’s ways to do group projects without ever interacting, and that’s not what I want. “Can we please talk about it?”

I don’t expect her to push her chair back and stand up, but she does, throwing her things into her bag. I sit frozen, watching her, and realise I’ve pushed for far too much at once.

My hand moves towards her before I even realise what I’m doing, my fingers closing around her wrist as she tucks the chair back under the desk. The last time I held her like this was a few months ago, and she freezes, her hand gripping on to the chair.

“Let go of me.”

I drop my hand, and she rubs at her wrist like she can erase the feel of my fingers.

“Please.”

I don’t know what else to say, and she doesn’t wait to give me a response. I sit frozen and watch as she walks to the front of the classroom. I watch as she talks to Mrs. Harper with her arm crossed over her stomach. I watch as she turns to leave the room, and I watch as my heart walks out of the door without even sparing a glance in my direction.

7

ISAAC

I knew I might have been taking it too far by asking her to talk, but a part of me had started feeling hopeful that because she’d agreed to work together, maybe she wanted the same thing as me. I should have just taken it at face value, that it was something mutually beneficial because we already know each other’s work and know that we’re good at what we do.

There was a time when she trusted me with her writing. She would read it to me and look up every couple of words to catch my reaction, which was never anything but awe. The way she could string simple words together and make them sound beautiful was amazing. I love her mind, and I want to get back to hearing every thought that’s running through it.

Every single thing I do right now is about trying to return to how we were. I need to apologise properly to her, but I don’t know how I can do that when she doesn’t even look at me.

I spend the next forty minutes drawing mindlessly, and it’s only when Mr. Hale comes to sit next to me that I realise I’ve been drawing her.

“Hey, Isaac. I’m not sure if this is my place to speak on it, but I did notice there seemed to be a bit of tension between you and Violet earlier.”

I knew the atmosphere between us was obvious, but I didn’t expect him to call it out like this.

“Is everything alright with you two? I didn’t think you were friends, but I thought you at least got on well with each other?”

My grip on my pen tightens. Keeping our relationship a secret seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now I regret it. I wish everyone knew just how much she means to me.

“We’re fine. We had a little falling out last year, but we’re working through it.”

It’s a complete understatement, but there’s no way I’m explaining to him how my entire world shattered in just a day, and I’m still struggling to pick up the pieces.

“Okay, well, I’m very excited to see what you two can create together, so I hope you can make up soon.”

Me too.

When I get back to my room, Lucas is lying on my bed because, of course, he is.

“Why are you here?” I ask, knowing that he probably wants something from me.

“Because I missed you.”

“Don’t you have football?”

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