Page 49 of The Secret Of Us

“Are you coming later?” Chloe asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, of course,” I say, sitting up straighter and pasting a polite smile on my face. “Haven’t missed one yet.”

Izzy squeezes my hand under the table, an indicator that I gave the right answer. And while that might be one of the reasons I said it, the main one is that I don’twantto miss any. Izzy telling me that she wants to quit still plays in my mind. I figure if I can offer even a little bit of support by showing up for her, then it’s better than doing nothing.

I turn my head, my smile transforming from the polite one I give everyone else to the soft one that’s only for her. It’s become easier to smile when I’m around her. It doesn’t take as much effort as it used to, the muscles in my face automatically moving. It feels like a natural response to looking at her, to being in her presence, so I don’t even have to think about it anymore.

“I’m going to vote him off the table if you keep acting like that,” Amelia says, waving her hand at us, which makes Izzy scowl.

“This isn’t a democracy,” Izzy tells her, and I have to stifle a laugh. “We’re leaving now, anyway.”

I take her cue to gather up our trays, stacking hers on top of mine so I can carry both of them without letting go of her hand. I like this part of it, too—having her hand in mine. I never thought I was someone who would like being touched so much, but holding hands with Izzy feels good. And I think she likes it too. More often than not, she’ll take my hand first. I always give it to her easily.

We stand up, dumping the trays on the way out of the dining hall. The weather’s much colder now that we’re getting into the end of October. I feel Izzy shiver next to me, so I move closer to her, hoping that my body heat will transfer to her. I tuck our joined hands into the pocket of my blazer.

“You know you don’t actually have to come to every practice. I’ll understand if you have more important things you want to do, mister future doctor.”

I shake my head, trying to hide my smile at hearing her call me that. A few days ago, she asked why I chose my A Level options, and I told her about my dream of becoming a doctor. She confessed that she didn’t want to go to university. Since then, I’ve been racking my brain, attempting to figure out how I can help her with the decisions she’ll have to make soon for her future.

“I’m pretty sure the mister part drops when I become a doctor,” I joke, and she elbows my side, glaring cutely at me as she tries to stop the laugh that wants to burst out of her.

I don’t think I’m funny, but Izzy always humours me when I try. I’ve started keeping a mental tally of how many times I can make her laugh each day. My record stands at fifteen times, and I worry I won’t ever be able to top that.

“Besides, I like watching you,” I tell her and instantly realise how weird it sounds. “Not like that, I mean, when you play hockey. I like watching you play hockey. I’m not just randomly watching you, of course, that would be weird, but I watch you when you play hockey-”

Izzy breaks out into a full-on laugh, stopping in her tracks with her head tipped back to face the sky, golden hair cascading down her back. The sun shines down on us, and the light hits her in a way that makes it look like she’s glowing. She looks ethereal. I’ve tried not to notice how pretty Izzy is, but it’s impossible in moments like this.

My heart stutters in my chest as I remember what this is meant to be.

I want to laugh along with her, pretend that she’s laughing so hard because she likes me.

For a second, I let myself believe that it is real. I let myself believe that everything with her feels natural because she’s starting to feel the same way about me that I do about her. That she feels this tug between us that constantly draws me to her—has done since the very first day I saw her. But every time I allow myself to do that, the crash back down to reality hurts so much worse.

A ball bounces in front of us, a younger student running to grab it with a quick apology, and the illusion of this being anything real is gone. There’s tons of people around us, everyone enjoying their lunch break before classes start up again. It’s the perfect time to put on the show we’re meant to be performing for everyone. And that’s exactly what she’s doing when she laughs like that.

I rub at my chest, my smile faltering before I force it back onto my face so Izzy won’t worry. I don’t want her to see the way it feels like there’s a vice around my heart that only gets released when she’s around.

“I’m gonna head back to my room for a second. I’ll see you later?” she says, still smiling brightly, and still breaking my heart.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

She lets go of my hand, taking hers out of my pocket. I keep mine in there so she won’t see the way it clenches into a fist, my nails digging into my palm to stop me from reaching for her again.

I stand frozen as Izzy walks toward her building. She doesn’t look back at me. She has no reason to.

* * *

When I get backto my room, I slump face-first onto my bed. I need to remember that it’s all fake, that even if I do have a crush on Izzy, it can’t go anywhere. We’re both leaving in a few months, and we’ll never see each other again. Whatever feelings I have for her are irrelevant. She trusted me enough to suggest this plan in the first place, and I can’t break that trust when it’s not something she actually wants.

I roll onto my back and sit up, pushing away any thoughts of Izzy as I check my phone. There’s a few texts that I’ve been ignoring all day because I don’t like being on my phone when I’m with her. Ravi’s name is at the top of the list, followed by Eomma and Appa. I decide to answer him first because that’s an easier conversation than whatever the other two will say

Ravi

Are you coming back for half term?

Noah

I think so

---