by A. J. Briar
I read out the name on the paper, and my heart simultaneously, soars and sinks at the same time.
Nathan Hartley.
The professor smiles at me, though its completely fake and insincere.
“Congratulations Isabella, your first assignment is to research, interview and write an article about our new shooting guard for the basketball team; Nathan. I expect a beautifully written piece of work that reflects your true potential. Especially since you’ve yet to show me what you’re capable of, apart from daydreaming.” Her snarky tone paired with her vicious smirk; means I have zero chance of switching names. Everyone else has already chosen and is long gone. She dismisses me with the flick of her hand, towards the door.
I swear karma has its way of working, as I traipse out of the room, reading his name over and over again. If Roxy was here, I’m sure she’d be sprouting off about how this is fate, and I should take it all in my stride. The fact that I was ecstatic to write this article should help, but that part of that eagerness has faded into fear. The misfortune of picking his name hangs heavy in my mind, and what makes it worse is, as the day goes on, the more I think about spending time with Nathan, the more the little butterflies swirl around my stomach. And I figure deep down, that has to mean something. Although don’t ask me what exactly, I’m not ready to face that particular mind fuck yet.
4
Nathan
She ran. Again. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering her usual go to, is to run from anything that is remotely difficult.
My mind fumes over last night’s events as I head towards the campus gym, ready to kill my muscles with a morning workout before class starts.
She’d done the one thing, that she’d just apologized for, and fuck knows why. I’d spent most of the night debating what I’d done wrong, where I’d gone wrong with her, but came up blank.
Even now, as I pound the rubber under my feet, I can’t figure her out. I replay the conversation and the only thing that comes to mind is that she freaked out, about me calling her pretty girl. The endearment just rolled off my tongue, though surely, she can’t know the significance of the name, so I’m back to square one, having no fucking idea why she seems to want to escape me at every opportunity.
“Hartley. My office. Now.” Coach appears behind me, his voice echoing around the gym as he barks my name and his orders. Inwardly, I sigh, before clicking the machine off. I grab my water bottle, downing it in one go and focus my attention back on Coach. His face is stern and causes my stomach to flip with anticipation of what he might want.
Dutifully, I follow him to his office, sending up a silent prayer, that whatever the reason for this impromptu meeting is a good one.
He motions for me to sit, which I do as I appraise his office. Pictures of his wife and daughter litter the desk, while the numerous trophies and awards he’s won, sit proudly in a glass cabinet behind his chair. I’ve not been here long, but it’s clear that he lives and breathes basketball, giving it his all and more. I also know that he won’t take any shit when it comes to his team. I’m just not sure what I could’ve done wrong, when we haven’t even played a game yet.
“You can relax Hartley, you’re not in any trouble.” The relief is instantaneous, causing me to sink back into the chair, letting out the breath, I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable though. This year, as part of this new cross curricular university bull shit, as a team, we’ve partnered with the English department. It seems their creative writing professor would like their students to write up an article regarding the university’s athletes. The rest of the team are eating this shit up but most of them don’t have a past like you have.”
I grimace at his words, my mind already trying to think of a way out of this. The last thing I need is someone digging up all the shit from my old university. I’d ended up doing a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of and this is my chance at a fresh start. Redemption if you will, although no one needs to find out about my sins. Especially Isabella.
“Now, I know you don’t want people knowing the shit that went down at your previous university but if you refuse this, it’ll only cause more problems and people will only ask more questions. I’ve accepted on your behalf and that’s all there is to it.” The authority in his tone rings out loud and clear, and even I know not to push it with him. His decision is final.
I can’t formulate any words to respond so I nod like I’ve accepted it. When in reality, my mind is still trying to find a way out of this. Coach stands abruptly from behind his desk and gestures towards the door, ushering me away, clearly done discussing the matter.
Storming out of his office, I don’t say a thing. The anger is building up inside me, and the last thing I need is to do something I’ll regret. I fly down the corridor into the locker rooms, showering quickly, willing myself to calm down.
The red mist that is clouding my vision begins to clear as I allow myself to think of the only person who can pacify me. The fact that I picture her even more clearly now, instantly effects my mood, turning the anger into something else. It’s ridiculous how she is still my talisman in the midst of chaos, that I call life. I haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing or not, considering how much she broke me. After she left, it’s no secret I spiraled hard. Everything was a mess and I’m not entirely sure how I managed to get through it. A mixture of alcohol and chicks helped to an extent but looking back now it was a toxic way to deal with my problems.
I spent years doing everything in my power to try and forget her, but in one day, all those feelings are back and as potent as ever. It’s laughable really, that I’m so predictable to fall back down the rabbit hole.
Dragging my ass to my only class of the day, I think of a way I can do some damage control. With any luck, I’ll get some chick who I’ll be able to sweet talk into writing a bunch of bull shit about me and that will be the end of it. The thought of anyone finding out the things I’ve been up to, I don’t like, but I can deal with. The thought of Isabella finding out, knocks me sick. She’d never forgive me, especially considering it involved her – unknowingly of course.
My phone vibrates in my pocket breaking me out of my misery. Logan’s text me asking me when I’m going to be back. This morning when I’d left, him and Roxy were still in the confines of his room. I can’t say I’m surprised she ended up at ours rather than going home. She was pretty out of it and I know Logan wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone. His protective nature I recognize in myself, as that’s exactly what I’d do for Isabella if she were in that position. It’s a shame really that they haven’t gotten it on yet. I can see that Logan is struggling to contain his feelings for her, and I actually feel a little bad for the guy. He’s firmly in the friendzone, with no way out. I reply quickly, telling him I’m on my way back. Everything inside me screams to bypass The Hideout, just to see if Isabella is working but I stick to my guns and head home instead.
As I walk into the apartment, I’m stopped in my tracks when I spy Logan and Roxy sprawled out, asleep on the couch. Roxy is led on top of him, drool seeping from her mouth, while her snores fill the otherwise silent room.
Shifting from one foot to the other, I internally debate whether to wake them or not. I don’t want to feel the wrath of Roxy, if I disturb her but I need to speak with Logan about this article shit. My mind is made up for me, as a loud ringing startles us all. Roxy jumps up like she’s been burned. I see the moment she realizes that she’d been draped all over Logan like a blanket and her reaction is to look everywhere but him. Logan rubs his eyes and emits a low groan.
“Nice nap?” I smirk at Logan, sensing his immediate discomfort at the situation. Roxy hightails away from him and begins searching through her bag for her phone. Logan rolls his eyes, about to respond, when Roxy gasps.
“Isabella needs me. I need to go. Now.” The urgency in her tone has Logan jump up and me advance towards her. If something is happening to Isabella, I need to
know. Before I can ask what is going on, Logan beats me to it, his voice demanding and insistent. If I hadn’t just caught him and Roxy having an impromptu nap together, I would’ve thought he had feelings for Isabella. Roxy brushes past both of us, grabbing her stuff that is scattered around the living room.
“Nothing that neither of you need to worry about.” Roxy eyes me as she accentuates the words neither of you. To hell with that. I fucking worry about Isabella whether I like it or not. It’s ingrained into my brain.
“Roxy…” My voice is low and pleading, my heart hammering in my chest. Roxy sighs but responds reluctantly.
“She’s okay. I meant what I said that you don’t need to worry. She just text saying code red. That’s girl talk for, well, girl talk. She’s probably just had a shitty day in classes. Whenever we need each other for a good old-fashioned girls’ night, that’s what we say.” She turns on her heels, as if that explains everything and heads towards the door.
Both me and Logan stand there watching her, unsure how to respond. I can’t exactly gatecrash considering I’m not sure whether Isabella wants anything to do with me. Logan clearly can’t crash either, as I’m quite sure the main reason Roxy is edging closer to the door, is to escape the huge elephant in the room between her and Logan.
“Roxy…” At the sound of her name, she swivels and cocks an eyebrow my way.
“Just look after her okay?” The sincerity in my voice must crack through Roxy’s icy exterior, I watch her expression soften slightly.
“I always do.” She cracks a tiny smile which appears so quick, I’m not even sure it happens and then she’s gone. The silence between me and Logan grows slightly awkward when neither of us make any move to speak. My brain is still processing why Isabella is upset.
“Look man, I’m going to need some details on you and Isabella.” I glance back to Logan who has settled back on to the couch. Grimacing, I’m not sure where to even begin.
“It’s complicated.” I sigh and put my head in my hands. No one knows the shit that went down with Isabella other than Max, who is currently in his own little world chasing Mia, halfway round the world. It’s hard to decipher all the emotions that swirl around in my head where Isabella is concerned but I feel it in my bones that those intense feelings are back. To be honest, they never really went away. I just got really good at hiding them, and pretending everything was alright, when in reality, I drowned in parties, booze and chicks.
“Trust me, I know complicated.” Logan chuckles dryly. He’s got a point considering he has a hard on for his best friend’s twin sister.
“Isabella and I used to date. She was the love of my life.” I trail off, not really knowing how to explain that fateful night, the one I wish I could block from my memory but can’t.
“I take it, it didn’t end very well?” Logan is delving for the answers that I’m struggling to give. I steal a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly what I want to say. I’m not sure how much Isabella has told people here. I won’t burst her bubble if she wants to keep the past in the past. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t mentioned that night to anyone but Roxy.
“You could say that.” My vague answers only make Logan want to know more as he continues to question my relationship with Isabella.
“Let’s just say the Isabella you know, isn’t the Isabella I knew. And that’s all you’re getting from me right now. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask her.” I grab the game controller from the coffee table, fully prepared to ignore everything that Logan says from that point onwards, when he mutters under his breath.
“I worry about her, you know.” He pauses to assess my reaction which I try my best to act nonchalant about. “She never speaks too much about her past, but I can tell she’s been hurt. And if that has anything to do with you man, I want to know. I love that girl like a sister, yet she’s so closed off to the world it guts me.” His words knock me over as I slump on the footstool that adjoins to the couch. I think about his words and debate whether to tell him more than I already have. My head and my heart are having an internal battle, though it isn’t long before my mind wins, and I explain what happened that fateful night. Throughout the sordid tale, Logan’s body in unmoving, the only reaction to my words, is his heavy intake of breath at every twist and turn of the story.
“I knew that she was hurt as I clasped her head in my hands, the blood was seeping through my fingers. I just prayed that she’d be okay. Yet she wasn’t.” Logan’s eyebrows raise as he’s obviously trying to figure out what I mean by that.
“She didn’t remember me man. She didn’t remember anything. Our entire time together, forgotten in the blink of an eye. She even called me her ex-boyfriend’s name which hurt like hell. I tried to make her remember and she just pushed me further and further away. Isla, her sister, kept trying for me but Isabella refused, gave up. It got to a point where I wasn’t even able to see her. I’d convinced myself that she just needed time to process everything. After she came of out hospital, I expected things to get easier, but they didn’t. If anything, they got worse, she became more and more resolute that she wanted nothing to do with me and the life she had.” I take a breath, reining in the hurt that courses through my body, thinking how low I felt at that particular part of my life. “I don’t even know how she managed to complete her senior year, considering she was never at school. And then after we graduated, she ran.” My earlier attempts at stopping myself from hurting are ineffective as I feel myself breaking at the seams. I thought telling the story aloud would relieve some of the emotion, but it doesn’t. It only intensifies everything. The guilt I feel for leaving her alone. The shame I feel for giving up on her so easily. The anger I feel towards her for giving up on me so easily. The love I feel for her, even though it’s entirely unrequited.
“Holy shit man.” Logan whistles through his teeth. “That’s some fucked up shit. Now I know what you meant about it being complicated.”
We both sit in an uncomfortable silence as I battle the fears inside my head while Logan purses his lips pensively.
“Want my advice?” Logan questions, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand nervously.
“Hit me with it.”
“You need to talk to her. Neither of you can move past this unless you confront the demon head on, and in this case, that night is obviously your inner demon.” He pauses when his phone vibrates on the table, distracting us both.
“Maybe then, both of you can gain some closure from the situation and move on.” His words penetrate my thoughts as I think about moving on. I’ve bloody tried to do that, and I’ve failed epically. Logan senses my bewilderment so cautiously questions.
“You do want to move on, don’t you? Or is that why you’re here? To win her back?” My eyebrows scrunch together, thinking about the answer to that. Of course, I had no idea that she was here, so my motive isn’t Isabella. But now, after seeing her, it changes things. I don’t know how to think or feel around her. Part of me hates that I can’t decipher what exactly I feel for her. I’m not sure whether it’s her or the situation she put me in, that makes me want to hate her. But then I know old feelings are resurfacing. It’s almost like I’ve hid them away for so long, forcing myself to hate her, that I no longer have a grip on reality. What I do know though, is that spark still courses through my body whenever she’s near, is enough to ignite feelings that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s also confusing as hell since I know she has no feelings for me. Or doesn’t remember them anyway.
They say that there’s a thin line between love and hate, and now I’m starting to realize why. Is it possible to simultaneously love and hate someone at the same time? Because I’m pretty sure that sums my situation up perfectly.
5
Isabella
“I don’t see what your big problem is, Izzy.” Roxy downs her third glass of wine, before grabbing the Ben and Jerry’s from the coffee table. I don’t know how she’s still drinking after last night’s escapade
s but she’s a trooper. When she arrived home bearing gifts of junk food and alcohol, I could’ve literally kissed her. I’ve been on edge all day, not able to think of anything other than Nathan and the assignment. I ended up on auto pilot for the rest of my classes and now, I’m in desperate need of a serious talking to. Though, I’m regretting my decision to talk to Roxy about it. Don’t get me wrong I love her, but her no nonsense attitude is a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.
“The way I see it, this might be exactly what you need to sort your shit out. Maybe it’s fate?” She questions me, like she doesn’t really believe it herself.
“Maybe it’s karma?” I counter back. Roxy sighs and pins me with her steely gaze. Ahh shit. I feel a Roxy rant coming up. I open my mouth to back pedal, when she verbally vomits her tirade.
“You need to stop with that bullshit. What happened that night was out of your control and I get that it’s frustrating not being able to remember but I think it’s about time you get over it. I hear you scream at night and it kills me that you’re still carrying around all those fears. Especially when I think you have a choice in all of this Isabella. You either want to remember or you want to forget. Only you can make that decision but I’m pretty sure I’d know which one I’d pick.”
Roxy slides the tub of ice cream my way, sensing I need to drown my sorrows. It’s not like I decide to have these nightmares. I know she thinks I have a choice, but I really don’t. I can’t pick and choose what my brain remembers. I wish I didn’t have these nightmares, then I might actually get a decent night’s sleep for once.
Roxy leaves me with my own thoughts as she heads off to bed. I don’t feel any better about the Nathan situation but unfortunately, I need to suck it up and deal with it. I can handle it. Fuck knows I’ve handled worse.
I make my way to my own room, heading straight to bed. My brain only too happy to switch off – even if it’s only going to be for a few hours.