Page 42 of The Story Of Us

I don’t want to read too much into what he’s saying, don’t want to start hoping too much that there might be a chance for that future we dreamed of together. But if he didn’t want to take it, then why did he?

“Forget I said anything.” He shakes his head before turning to look at me. “Did you work on the project at all?”

He’s never changed the subject so suddenly like that before, and it just has me confused. I want to know why he didn’t want to take it. I want to know why he did.

“I… uh…”

I can’t get a full sentence out.

I need to know what he meant, but I can see he’s shutting down, retreating into his head to a place that I worked so hard to get to before and have no chance of getting to now. I want to shake him, confront him, force him to talk to me, but I can’t. Instead, I just talk about the project. A neutral ground for us now because it seems like we can’t talk about anything else.

I take my journal out and turn it to the page where I’ve written everything down. I tell him that I worked on the characters more, fleshed them out enough to know what they look and act like so he can start drawing them. I tell him more about the settings that we’ll need for future scenes: a park, an airport, and a train station.

Isaac listens attentively to everything I say, nodding his head and watching me intently. He doesn’t interrupt me once, and I’m reminded of all the times he used to listen to me when I would tell him about my day or whatever issue I was going through. He would always just let me vent out my feelings, waiting until I’d finished before responding or even just holding me so I knew he was there for me.

“Thanks for doing all that,” he says, and it sounds so detached. “I can work on a few sketches and send them over to you later. Can I take a picture of your notes?”

I turn my journal around and slide it across the desk to him.

ONE YEAR AGO

“You can read this?” Isaac holds my notebook close to his face, squinting to look at it, taking his glasses on and off as he exaggerates. “Is this even English?”

“Give it back!” I lean over the desk to try and get it from him, but Isaac scoots his chair back, standing up and holding my book above his head, twisting and turning it as he pretends to try and read it.

I stand up and go towards him to try to get it, but he’s taller than me, and with how far above his head he’s holding it, it’s impossible to reach even when I jump. He looks down at me, a huge smile on his face, and then his arm is around me, pulling me closer to him. I drop my arms and cross them, pretending to be annoyed with him, but it’s impossible to when he’s looking at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Isaac.”

“Jaanu.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m annoyed.”

He leans down to kiss my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to smile at him right now.

“This isn’t going to work, you know?”

He lowers the book in between us and loosens his hold on me, leaning back slightly to properly look at me. He looks worried, and I realise he’s taken what I said in the wrong way, thinking that this meant us.

“What do you mean?”

I decide to play into it because he looks adorable like this, and I can’t believe he would even think that I’d consider breaking up with him ever.

“How can I be with you if you make fun of me like that?”

His face drops, and it might be a little mean of me, but I have to hold back a laugh because I’ve never seen him look this serious before.

“I was just kidding, Violet.”

He lets go of me, and I regret playing this joke out instantly. I want him back, want his arms around me again and his face so close to mine.

“I love your handwriting. It’s so cute, and it shows how fast your brain works like you can’t help but just write everything down as soon as you think of it. I think you’re so smart.”

My heart blooms as he compliments me, and I feel so bad for making him think the worst. I step towards him, reaching up to hold his face in my hands and pull him down to me.

“I was just playing with you,” I tell him, and we’re so close that I can feel the sigh of relief he lets out, see the way his eyes close briefly before they open again, and he scans my face.

How could he ever think I’d want anything less than this?

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