Page 64 of The Story Of Us

“Of course I do.”

I think back to a few months ago, talking on the phone with Isaac just before exams started and giving him a detailed summary of the book I was reading at the time. He always listened even when he had no idea what I was talking about, and I’ve missed not being able to talk to him about books.

It was the first book in a long fantasy series, one about demon hunters in New York that I thought Isaac might like too. He never minded when I spoiled books for him, he always just paid attention and asked questions so that I could keep talking.

I read the signs above the shelves and navigate towards the fantasy section, scanning the shelves to find the book. A few moments later, Isaac joins me, standing close behind me as I search for the book.

I find it a few minutes later with the help of Isaac coughing obnoxiously to get my attention and pointing his foot towards one of the lower shelves. I bend down to get the single copy available and notice a piece of paper sticking out of it.

Another card.

“Isaac.” I stand up, spinning around to face him with the book and card clutched in my hands.

“Violet.”

I still can’t get over the way he says my name and how lovely and different it sounds coming from him compared to everyone else.

“Don’t tell me you’ve set up a bookstore scavenger hunt.”

I want him to deny it because if that’s really what’s happening right now then I’m scared I’ll have to admit to him just how much I’ve missed him, just how much he knows me like no one else does. I’m scared I’ll have to admit that I hate that we’ve been apart for so long and how much time we’ve wasted. I’m scared that I’ll have to admit that I think I’m in love with him.

“I’ve not not set up a scavenger hunt?” He tilts his head to the side as he says it, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. He looks so adorable that I have to look away from him before I do something stupid like kiss him. “Read the card.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice because I’ll do anything to avoid looking at him.

The first book you told me to read

Again, I dig into my memories trying to remember a conversation from years ago and then it hits me.

FIVE YEARS AGO

This year, Isaac and I decided to exchange cards. I felt so embarrassed after he gave me a card on our birthday last year, and I didn’t have one for him, so I hurried to make one for him the next day. We started talking more after that, and a few months ago, he told me that he’d discovered a classroom in the science block that never gets used. He suggested that it would be a good place to meet for our birthday, somewhere we could be alone.

As soon as the last bell rang, I made my way toward the classroom with the birthday card I’d prepared for him safely tucked away between two books so it wouldn’t get creased throughout the day. I didn’t want to risk being late by running back to my room to get it, so I made sure I packed it in my bag last night.

When I reach the classroom, I peek in and notice that Isaac hasn’t arrived yet so I enter and take a seat at the desk near the window in the back corner of the room. I’m not sure when he’ll turn up, so I take out the book I’m currently reading and open it to where I left my bookmark.

A few minutes later, the door opens, and Isaac walks in. A big smile appears on his face when he sees me.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I echo as he approaches me.

I place the bookmark back into the book, putting it on the desk as he takes the seat next to me. He drops his bag on the desk and rummages through it for a few seconds before pulling out a card and I do the same.

We hand them to each other, fingers brushing for just a moment, but it feels electrifying. I try not to look at him as I feel my cheeks getting red and focus on the card instead. It has a drawing of a cake with thirteen candles on it, Happy Birthday written underneath it with careful handwriting. I open it to read the message inside, and the words ‘Happy Birthday Violet! from Isaac’ in slightly messier handwriting with small doodles around it shouldn’t be making my heart beat this fast. I rub at my chest as if it’ll slow it down, but it doesn’t.

When I finally look up at him, he’s holding something rectangular wrapped in green paper.

“You got me a present?” I ask, trying to hide the disbelief in my voice.

“It’s nothing big. I just saw it and thought of you.”

I don’t focus on the last part of that sentence as much as I want to. If I do, it’ll make it obvious how much I’ve been thinking of him this past year, too.

“I didn’t get anything for you though. I thought we were just doing cards.”

“I know but I went home on the weekend, and my mum made me go shopping with her. When I saw it, I knew I wanted to get it for you.” He holds it out to me, and I take it from him. “Open it.”

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