Page 51 of The Story Of Us

“I feel like I do.”

Silence again as we both try to figure out what to say to each other without exposing too much. Isaac reaches his hand out towards me, grazing the side of my arm and trailing it down to my hand. I don’t realise it’s shaking until he takes it in his, the warmth and grip of his hand steadying me as his fingers intertwine with mine, and he squeezes gently.

I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the feeling of being cherished by him again as he runs his thumb over the back of my hand. My heart stutters. I’ve missed this feeling so much. I mirror him, my thumb running across his knuckle as I hear and feel the sigh he lets out.

We’ve moved closer to each other, knees touching now, and the atmosphere around us feels charged, like static building up before a lightning strike. But I don’t know what this burst of lightning will mean for us, and I’m worried about what will or won’t happen if I don’t leave right now.

“I should go.” I blurt out, feeling like there’s no air left in the room. I try to extract my hand from his, but he doesn’t let go and when I look at him, it’s like he’s pleading with his eyes. His brows are turned down, a pained look in his eyes as though letting me go will physically hurt him.

“Please stay.”

I scan his face, and the desperation in his voice is evident, making it impossible to say no.

“Okay,” I tell him as I prepare myself for the strike.

20

ISAAC

I didn’t expect her to stay, but she’s made no move to leave since I asked her. We’re not speaking, but she’s moved her other hand on top of mine, and that says more to me than any words could. It feels so good to be able to hold her again, to be so close to her and pretend she’s still mine, even if it’s just for this moment.

I’m reminded of all the times we would sit together in silence, content to just be with each other even if there was nothing to say. Her presence has always soothed me whether on the phone or in our stolen moments together between classes. As soon as I’d hear her voice or see her face, it was like everything else disappeared, every single worry in the world fading into the background as she took centre stage in my mind.

I’m about to say something, to ask her why she stayed or where we go from here, but the sound of my phone ringing breaks me out of my thoughts. She startles, taking her hand away from mine and leaning back in the chair. This time, I let her go because I know she’s not leaving.

I reach across my bed to pick up the phone but wish I hadn’t - it’s my dad. The worry must show on my face because Violet rests her hand on my knee, giving me a tight smile as she urges me to answer. I focus my attention on where she’s touching me, grounding myself with her as I swipe the screen.

“Hi, dad.”

“Have you done your application yet? There’s only a few days until the deadline.”

I turn the volume down so that Violet can’t hear. Even though we’re friends again, we haven’t discussed anything about university or what the future holds, and I don’t want that conversation to be forced now because of my dad. I still haven’t submitted my application for Oxford, and I think the stress surrounding it all is one of the reasons I got sick.

“I’m just checking through it a few more times. It’ll be done before the deadline.”

“Have it done by the end of the day, and forward the confirmation to me once you have.”

There’s no way to put it off any longer. I close my eyes before I say the next words, not wanting to look at Violet as I force them out. But then I feel a gentle pressure on my knee, her thumb running across it, and it gives me the strength I need.

“I’ll submit it now.”

“Good. Will you be home for half term?”

I take this chance to tell him that I won’t be. Izzy has a trip with the hockey team, so she won’t be at home. The thought of spending an entire week alone with my parents sounds like the worst possible thing right now.

“I’m going to stay here. I was sick for a few days, so I need to catch up.”

“Okay, good idea.”

I didn’t tell either of my parents that I’d been sick for the past few days. I knew neither of them would care. I imagine other parents would show some concern or ask how I felt, but he won’t.

Violet’s hand stills on my knee, and I glance at her, furrowing my brows in confusion. She just shakes her head. I immediately want to end this conversation so I can talk to her instead.

“I’ll send you the email later. Bye.”

I hang up before I even hear a response, locking my phone and throwing it behind me on the bed. I go to place my hand over Violet’s but she moves it away, and I try hard to not let the sting of rejection show on my face.

“How much of that did you hear?”

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