Page 32 of The Story Of Us

VIOLET

“So I was talking to my brother yesterday.”

I freeze, my fingers all tangled in Izzy’s hair as I braid it for her in a complicated style she found online. Why is she bringing him up? We never really talk about him. Our friendship is completely separate from any relationship I might have had with Isaac. She knows we’re in the same class, but we’ve never given anyone any kind of inkling that there’s more than that to our relationship.

What if he’s told her about us? I don’t want to lose Izzy as a friend while I’m still trying to get over losing her brother. Izzy’s eyes flick up to mine in the mirror we’re both facing, and I run my fingers through her hair, getting rid of all the progress I made. She raises her eyebrows at me in question, considering I just spent the better part of fifteen minutes doing it.

“I messed it up. It’s easier to just try again.”

“Funny you should say that. That’s what I was talking to him about.”

He told her.

Isaac told her about us.

I pick up the hairbrush, running it through her hair as I try to stop my bottom lip from quivering.

“Izzy, whatever he told you -”

“You know he still has a crush on you, right?”

My hand stills again. A crush? Is that how he explained it to her? Something as small as that?

These past few weeks with Isaac, it’s like I’ve had a balloon in my chest. Every time he spoke to me and showed me some kindness, it inflated, filled with a small bit of hope that maybe last year was just a mistake and that with enough time, we could move on from it. Move on in what way, I’m not sure, but just move on to a place where we don’t have stifled conversations with each other and have to hide how we really feel.

Because I still like him.

As much as I don’t want to, it’s hard to get rid of the feelings that have consumed me for years now. But with what Izzy just said, it feels like the balloon has popped.

“I didn’t know that.” My mouth feels dry, and I don’t want this conversation to happen, especially not with someone like Izzy, who is important to both of us.

“He told me that he asked you out a while ago, but you said no.”

Oh.

He didn’t tell her. But why say anything at all, especially that? Izzy answers my question before I can even say it.

“I was talking about you yesterday and told him that you did my hair, but as soon as I mentioned your name, he got kind of upset. It happened on the first weekend back, too, so I asked what his deal was, and then he told me that you rejected him. And I completely get that he’s really annoying, but I don’t know, I think maybe you should give him another chance.”

She finishes her rambling and gives me a toothy grin, seeming so proud of herself. I can’t think of a way to respond that won’t have me feeling completely exposed because hearing that he’s been upset to the point where even just hearing my name has him acting out feels so strange.

He broke up with me, and it might seem like he’s regretting it now, but what if I do give him another chance, and it happens all over again? I don’t think I can handle losing him twice when it already gutted me the first time.

“Don’t tell him I told you any of this because I don’t want him to get a big head, but he’s really not that bad all the time.” Izzy turns in her seat to face me, and I finally put the brush down, pressing my hands together to try and smooth out the indents that are now there from how tightly I was gripping it.

“He always lets me pick the music when we drive, and he gets me out of boring lunch parties with our parents, and he always has snacks for me, and…”

I don’t hear the rest of what she says, memories flashing through my mind.

ONE YEAR AGO

I hug my stomach with my free hand hoping that the sound of it rumbling wasn’t too loud, but of course, Isaac heard it. How embarrassing. It’s like he’s hyper-tuned into everything I do. Any time I’m even a tiny bit out of sorts, he can figure it out instantly. His head shoots up as soon as my stomach starts eating itself again, and he frowns at me.

“Did you not eat today?” He puts his pen down and pushes his work aside, reaching his hand across the table to ask for mine.

I give it to him, and he rubs soothing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. The first time he ever held my hand like this, I felt like my whole body was on fire like every nerve in my body was alight and focused in on the place where his thumb was. He does it so often now that I thought the feeling would go away, but it still hasn’t, and I never want it to.

“I had breakfast, but I skipped lunch because Izzy needed my help with something.”

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