Page 17 of Chase

By the time I reach the bridge, Theo is already waiting forme. The sight of his old denim jacket, his well-worn boots, and his messy hair has me instantly calming myself after my run-in with Ethan. As if sensing my presence, he turns and smiles, but even from here, I can see it’s not reaching his eyes. There’re no crinkles around them, it’s fake. Maybe he got hell for being caught with me this morning, maybe he’s just tired, or maybe I’m about to be crushed sooner rather than later.

“Hey, Twiglet, we need to talk,” he says in such a way, I know it can’t be about anything good.

“Oh,” I reply, smiling, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he looks down at my shirt, strokes his finger against Ludo, the hairy ‘monster’ and smirks. Distraction tactics.

“Labyrinth?”

“For sure, my favorite film,” I reply, “you can’t beat Bowie wearing a pair of nut-hugging Lycra trousers while fondling a bunch of glass balls. Though, more than that, I guess I’ve always wanted to go there. Trouble is, I wouldn’t want to come back.”

The atmosphere turns melancholy, so I look away awkwardly.

“I always thought it was kind of weird,” he admits, “but I guess what you’re saying makes sense. Fuck, this is hard, Izzy!”

He releases a loud sigh as he wipes his hand over his face, my suspicions being more than confirmed. He’s here to break my heart.

“Just say whatever it is, Theo,” I utter sadly, “I’m pretty used to disappointment.”

“I think we should stop this,” he says, gesturing between him and me. “I’m leaving in a few weeks, and I don’t want to hurtyou any more than I need to.”

“It’s fine,” I rush out, looking away so I can blink away the tears forming at the bottom of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away, then turn back to give him my best fake smile. “You, or rather, Auntie Frankie, are totally right. I’ve gotta go anyway, I have a huge essay due tomorrow. Thanks for last night; I’ll drop your t-shirt in tomorrow or something.”

He calls after me but I’m already walking away, huddling into my t-shirt while letting the tears freeflow down my face. I want my fantasy reality more than anything; why doesn’t it exist?

When I get back home, I find his shirt and go to throw it straight inside the washing machine. But then I get a faint whiff of him. I can’t help but breathe in the fabric more intimately, scrunching it up inside my hand so I can inhale without shame. It smells masculine, comforting, all spicy and woody. I decide to take it back up to my room and place it under my pillow. I’ll wash it one day, just not on this one.

_____

Theo

The weeks leading up to our departure pass quickly, something I would have been thankful for not long ago, but now, I’m dreading it. I see Izzy every day, and all I want to do is take her inside my arms and hold her close, kiss her, stroke her hair, and tell her how much she means to me. I even see her with Bradley a few times, and it’s all I can do not to go over and pull him away from her. It’s not fair of me, she deserves Bradley and his goo-goo eyes, but I can’t help it. Something instinctual says she belongs tome and only me. She’s mine to make happy and to protect from her awful family. And yet, I have to stand back, keep my distance, and let him put the smiles on her face, fake though they are. I’m unfairly proud of the fact that she only smiles genuinely for me. I’m the only one that gets her to shine through all the shit she has to live with inside of that house.

The night before the sixth form Christmas party, I am being bombarded with messages from my date, Ellie, about what she’s wearing. She asks what I’m wearing, what car we’re going in, whether we should go out for something to eat first, and tonnes of other shit I’m not really interested in. By morning, I’ve had no less than thirty text messages. In a moment of sheer frustration, I throw my fist against the wall; I’ve ended up asking out a Tilly-wannabe.

Being a total asshole, I text Ellie and tell her I’m sick. It’s not a smooth or fair move, but I just can’t face it, especially not in the mood I’ve been in since making Izzy cry yet again. Besides, I’d only end up making her night a huge disappointment. It’s best she tries to find someone else instead of a moody bastard like me. Understandably, she immediately phones and starts screaming bloody murder until I reach the point whereby, I have no choice by to hang up. I decide there and then not to go. I owe her at least that much.

By half seven, I’m dressed in my suit, readying myself to break all my willpower and do something I know I shouldn’t. I wait until half eight, then cross over the forest, which is now pitch black. This may be the dumbest thing I’ve done yet, but I don’t care. I’m leaving in two days, and I need to tell Izzy how I feel about her. I refuse to leave her believing someone else doesn’t love her, especially when that someone is me.

The house seems quiet, deserted perhaps, especially as allthe cars are gone and the lights are out. However, when I look up at Izzy’s window, there she is. I smile up at her at the same time as she opens the window, wearing nothing more than a little vest top and a pair of pajama shorts. With her hair hanging down in its usual unstyled way, I can’t help but marvel at how stunning she looks.

“What are you doing double-oh-seven?” she shouts down as she leans over the window ledge. “You lose your way?”

“Nah, I’m blowing the party off,” I reply with a wide grin I can’t help but wear for her. “For you, Twiglet, you’re the only girl I wanna be with tonight.”

“But you said…” she says, teasing me by crossing her arms and clucking her tongue.

“I know what I said,” I reply with a sigh and a shake of my head, “but I was an idiot! Come and let me in?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she says cheekily, “Bradley’s coming around later, and I was thinking of going ten rounds with him.”

I theatrically raise my eyebrows, feigning shock before bursting into laughter.

“Get your cute butt down here, Izzy!”

She giggles and turns away from the window, so I make my way over to the back door where we finally meet. We’re awkward at first, but then I remember how little time we have together and pull her into my arms so I can kiss the hell out of her. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me as I carry her back into the kitchen, slamming the door closed with my shoe.

“Wait, shit, is anyone home?” I rush out.

“No, but there are cameras there, there, and there,” she says, pointing to each corner of the room before giggling at me again. “I’m kidding, of course.”

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