by A. J. Briar
My phone vibrates, waking me up at what seems to be an ungodly hour. I groan sleepily and reach my hand out looking for my phone. Light seeps in through the curtains making me wonder, whether it’s as early as I think. I find my phone and squint at the screen trying to focus on the screen. Ah shit, Isla’s ringing. I answer, knowing that she won’t give up anytime soon.
“Hello my favorite sister.” I yawn, letting out a long sigh while I rub the sleep from my eyes.
“I’m your only sister. And it’s far too early to deal with your chirpiness, Isla. What’s going on?” I sit up in bed and lean my head on the wall.
“Nothing’s going on. Can’t a sister just simply ring her younger sister for a chat?” I have to admit I have missed hearing her voice. Don’t get wrong, I think me moving here and Isla staying in Grove Hill, is a good thing. It made us both realize that we’d lived in each other’s pockets for far too long and we both needed a bit of freedom and independence. But it’s still nice to hear her voice in the midst of madness, that my life has become.
“I suppose so, how are you? How’s Grove Hill?” I hear Roxy’s rock music play through the walls, and I press the phone closer to my ear. She’s clearly feeling less hungover than she was yesterday.
“I’m good. It’s good. How’re you doing? I know how much you worry about the first days of everything. How was it? Any news you feel like sharing with me?” I pause to take a deep breath. Does she know about Nathan? I’m pretty sure that’s impossible, unless she’s got hidden cams documenting my life - which she doesn’t.
“B?” Her soft voice quietly questions me again as I hear the concern in her voice.
“Nathan is here in River Valley.” I hear Isla screech and then scream down the phone.
“No fucking way. That boy doesn’t relent does he.” She chuckles and it irks me that she finds this situation funny.
“He’s not here for me, Isla. And my life is not a joke Isla, so please stop laughing.” Isla gasps on the other end of the line then retorts.
“I’m not laughing at you B; I’m laughing at how fucking ludicrous the situation is. You couldn’t write this shit. You travel hundreds of miles to get away from someone, to only find a few years later, they catch up to you.” Isla squeals and then continues to rant.
“Wait! This is destiny B. It has to be. The world wants you two to be together.” Isla continues to talk about some mumble jumble spiritual shit as my inner thoughts plague me. Isla was always on team Nathan meaning she always championed us together. She tried so many times to get me to see how much I felt for him, but I refused. My brain refused. A vibration on my phone interrupts my thoughts so I cut Isla off hastily, promising to call her soon.
An email pops up from my professor detailing the assignment outline and then contact details for our chosen athlete. I contemplate deleting it and claiming I never received it, though I realize then that would be the coward’s way out. I’ve spent most of my life running from my problems, it’s about time that I faced them.
Copying his number into my phone, I debate what I should text him. I have no idea whether he even knows about the assignment, so I should probably tell him the unlucky news. Maybe he’ll refuse and then get us both out of doing it. Wishful thinking, I know.
I type out a quick text, hoping like hell I come across causal, explaining what I have to do and if he’s available anytime soon. I have a late class this morning followed by one straight afterwards. Last year when I had an early finish, I tended to go to the campus library or the coffee shop that’s just off campus. It meant that I could catch up with any work but seen as it’s the start of the year and there’s no way I can be behind already, I’m as free as a bird.
I hop in the shower, enjoying a bit of solitude though all I can think about is his response. It’s weird that I’m on edge, when really, I shouldn’t care what he says. I tell myself that it’s just because I’m bothered about my grade, when in reality, I know it’s more than that.
Roxy shouts through the bathroom door, sarcastically reminding me that I need to get out of the shower at some point today. I finish up, and then head out to get dressed. My phone pings letting me know I have a notification. Racing over to it, I nearly trip over my own damn feet.
Nathan: Who is this??
I roll my eyes while I check the first text. Of course, I’d forgotten to actually introduce myself. There’s only me who could do something like that. I type out my name and his response is almost immediate, which makes me smile for some unknown reason.
Nathan: Isabella James?
Isabella: How many Isabella’s do you know? You should know I’m rolling my eyes right now.
Nathan: I wouldn’t expect anything less from Isabella James. I didn’t realize it would be you writing this article shit. When’s best for you to meet?
Isabella: This afternoon work for you?
If I’m honest, I’d rather get this over with, sooner rather than later. I know that it’ll probably take more than one meeting to write an entire article on him, which is why I need to get the ball rolling. Plus, I realize, as I wait for his reply, that I am actually motivated to try something new and different. I was excited before finding out it was Nathan, so I bring that enthusiasm to the fore point of my mind and try to maintain that momentum.
Nathan: I can make it work, though it’ll mean I’ll come straight from practice. Meet at the library at 4?
Isabella: Works for me. See you then.
I chuck my phone on my bed and head to my dresser to choose what to wear. I pick out my favorite summer dress, which hits just above the knee and pair it with my high-top converse. It’s still relatively warm outside but I grab my washed-out denim jacket, just in case.
By the time I’ve brushed the knots out of my hair and applied minimal make up, I end up running late for my class. I rush out of the door with a quick hi and bye to Roxy, and practically run to campus.
With minutes to spare, I crash into class and take my preferred seat at the back. It’s not like I’m a slacker, it’s just I prefer not to be the center of anyone’s attention. At the back, people don’t notice me, which is perfectly fine with me.
Rory sidles up next to me bringing an entourage of three chicks with him. A snort works its way free, as he dismisses them all with a wave of his hand. Truthfully, it’s ridiculous the way the women here, throw themselves at him, you’d think he was famous or some shit with the amount of attention he seems to draw. I shake my head while Rory flashes a huge shit eating grin, making his dimples appear. His dimples, that I find as I stare at them, remind me of Nathan’s. Shit? Does he even have dimples? I close my eyes and try to picture him at the bar, but instead another image flashes through my mind. Nathan’s sat next to me on a beach, the sun setting off in the distance illuminating his face. The natural light highlighting his only dimple on his face as he smiles a huge grin at me. A smile full of adoration and hope which causes me to feel the love radiating off him.
Rory shakes my shoulder, bringing me out of my fantasies, as I blink my eyes open. I have no idea where that came from, but I know it’s not made up. Unquestionably, that’s a memory I have of Nathan before the fall and that fucking terrifies me, more than it probably should.
Rory calls my name and continues to shake me while the fear begins to fester inside. I already knew I was starting to remember more and more of Nathan, but it scares me that with every memory I recall, the more I start to feel again.
“Izzy, you’re freaking me out now. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rory’s panicked voice brings me out of my reverie. I shake off the encroaching anxieties and concentrate on the here and now. Rory’s chocolate brown eyes gaze upon me, searching my face for any signs of hurt. One of his hands is on my shoulder while the other gently cups my face. I wiggle out of his grasp, before speaking.
“I’m fine.” I force a smile on my face hoping like hell, it comes across sincere. Rory quirks an eyebrow up, obviously not buying my façade.
“Really
. I am fine. I zoned out for a second, no big deal.” Rory scoffs next to me but leans back a little, retreating out of my personal space. A ball bunny sidles up next to him and gains his attention, allowing me to breathe out a sigh of relief. Thank fuck, that conversation is over.
The guys know nothing about my past and I don’t want them to. The number of times I received pity stares after the accident, was enough for me to realize I didn’t want people knowing what I went through. Whether anyone realizes or not, they judge us for the experiences we go through. Good or bad and I refuse to let my past define how people treat me.
Before I know it, I’ve made it through my classes and I’m heading towards the library. My mind consumed by Nathan and nothing else. The anticipation settles in my stomach as I head up to the second floor where it houses private study rooms. I head to the end of the hallway and unlock the room I use. A friend of a friend of Roxy’s hooked me up with it in my first year and I’ve had it ever since. Granted, he was a he and I think he thought Roxy would be using it, but hey ho, I’m not complaining. It’s a reprieve from reality and has become a safe haven when I need to escape. Even if it is just a square room, with a table and chairs. The walls are grey and dull but somehow when I’m here, I forget about everything going on in the world outside.
Throwing my bag down on the table, I take everything out that I might need. I grab my phone and check the time realizing I’m insanely early. Deciding to write down my earlier memory of Nathan, I pull my journal from my bag and begin scribbling down the details I remembered.
His dimple that appeared when he smiled a certain way, enticing me in. His ocean blue eyes that lit up even in the night sky, they sparkled with the hope of a future. The love radiating off him like a beacon and I find myself smiling as I write.
The hairs on my arm spike when a shadow crosses my page. I spin in my seat abruptly, knocking my journal to the floor, ready to unleash my inner tirade on whoever has decided to spy on me.
My words lodge in my throat though when I see a very sweaty Nathan standing over me. His body is on full display, the athletic shorts and jersey do little to conceal what’s hidden underneath. He begins to lean against the door frame, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. The action draws my attention to his muscles, which bunch up making him look entirely edible.
Butterflies swarm through my body, the more I stare at him. I glance back up to his face and notice the humor dancing in his eyes. He damn well knows I’m checking him out and is clearly appreciating it way too much.
“Enjoying the view?” He chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips, so I decide to ignore his question. I turn back around and go to pick up my journal, when somehow Nathan beats me to it. He snatches it up in his grasp and then maneuvers around the table, out of my reach glancing quickly at the pages. I can’t help but lunge towards him, flinging myself across the table onto him. I’m well aware that I’m probably going to look like a monkey climbing a tree, but I clasp my legs around his waist, and reach up to try and pick my journal from his hand. The same journal, that’s now being waved around in the air above his head.
His deep laugh vibrates through his body and in response, I lightly slap his shoulder, while still trying to stretch to get my journal. If I’m honest, I thought he’d tumble with my weight on him, but he doesn’t. His strength is resolute as he cradles me in one hand, like I weigh nothing. He’s still able to taunt me, by waving my journal from side to side. The thought of him reading everything I’ve wrote about him is extremely embarrassing and I can’t let him see. I extend once again, praying that I can pry it from his hand when the action causes my dress to ride up. His hand grips my waist and I find myself realizing that this position isn’t exactly PG friendly. Sensing the exact same, Nathan looks deep into my eyes, still holding onto me.
“Isabella…” He practically growls my name and inside I melt into a puddle. His voice does things to my insides, that I haven’t felt for an exceptionally long time. He drops my journal, the fight in me to get it back, long gone and then lifts his hand to gently stroke my face. He trails his finger down from my cheek, along my jaw and down my neck and I shiver at the contact. Nobody’s touch even comes close to how good Nathans feels right now. My body is reacting to his in a way, I’ve never felt before. All judgement is thrown out of the window, as I lean into his embrace, relishing it more than ever. In my head, I know this is all sorts of wrong considering our history, but I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want Nathan right now. Is it bad that something so wrong, feels so right?
6
Nathan
Isabella is in my arms. I’m can’t quite grasp how we ended up like this but fuck it, if I’m complaining. Her long, toned legs wrap around my waist and her beautiful teal gaze locks with my own. I swear to god, this is all my fantasies rolled into one, as I debate what she wants me to do.
Hell, I know what I want to do and that’s to kiss her. Hell, I want to do a lot more than kiss her, but I can’t gauge her reaction. She shivers when I touch her, meaning I nearly retract my hand, but then she leans into my touch, ever so slightly. I continue my path, caressing down her neck. I want more than ever to kiss my way down her throat and her body, but my heart tells me not too. If I push her now, she’ll run and that’s the last thing I want her to do. Leaning my forehead against hers, I steal a deep breath in, already knowing, this is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
“We shouldn’t,” I murmur against her lips, practically tasting the cherry lip gloss that she’s wearing. She turns her head ever so slightly, though I make no move to pull away. Both of us clearly in denial of what’s going on here. Her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip and I nearly cave right there and then. I’m dying to taste her again and I’m about to, when she retreats. Her legs loosen from around me then she slides them to the floor. Granted, she’s still in my arms. My grip on her is unyielding, the need to hold onto her a little while more, becoming uncontrollable.
“You can let go of me now.” The sassiness in her voice makes me laugh so I reluctantly relent my hold. She maneuvers out of my embrace and picks up her journal, which I’d long since forgotten about. From the moment I got here, it was clear that whatever she was scribbling about, was important enough for her to be completely absorbed by it. Intrigue got the better of me, and when I saw her write my name, I lost all reason. The need to know overpowered all my thoughts, although now seeing how much she tried to hide it, I know I need to respect her privacy. Even if a tiny part of me still wants to know.
Gingerly, she places it in her bag, then sits down opposite me, where I’m still standing like a lemon watching her. I’d forgotten how mesmerizing she is, her aura calls out to me and draws me in, even if I don’t want it to. She motions for me to take a seat, which I do and then pins me with a steely gaze.
“You ready to do this?” She questions while grabbing a pen and her notepad. If I’m honest, I’d completely overlooked the reason why we were here in the first place. Our early moment is clouding my mind, making it difficult to focus on anything but her.
“Let’s do this shit.” My earlier qualms about this report are back and more prominent than ever. I know I won’t be able to hide much from Isabella and that scares the shit out of me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking intrigued at the thought of spending time with her, though I know I shouldn’t be. If she finds out my past, she’ll no doubt hate me for it. Hell, I’m hate myself for my mistakes – and shit, there’s been plenty.
“How long have you been playing basketball for?” I roll my eyes and snort at her generic question. If these are her types of questions, I don’t have anything to worry about.
“I started playing little league, hit a growth spurt during junior school and ended up loving the game. It continued and well, here we are.” I cross my arms behind my head and lean back slightly. Isabella’s curious eyes narrow on me while she scribbles down my answer.
“So, why play? Why basketball? Why not football or
baseball?” She chews on the end of her pen and the action draws my eyes to her lips. Oh, what I would give to be that pen right now. Holy shit. I want to trade places with a pen. What the hell is wrong with me. I shake off the thoughts as I contemplate my answer to her question.
“I play because I enjoy it. I’m good at it, so why shouldn’t I play? Is it my end game? Probably not. But it pays me to be here and that saves my mom breaking her back to get me an education.”
At the mention of my mom, Isabella closes her eyes and silence ensues around us. When her eyes flash open, I’m unsure what to do. Her stunning teal eyes are full of emotion and I find myself staring deeply into them, trying to decipher her all over again.
She coughs and looks towards the floor, breaking my connection with her. That’s twice today that I feel that spark igniting between us as the faith I feel brimming, brings a grin to my face.
“Is Karen still working at the school?” Her question wipes the smirk clean off, and I gasp aloud. I don’t know whether I should be jumping for joy or drowning my sorrows that she knows that.
Stammering out a response, my mouth works on auto pilot, while my mind whirls at her revelation. Isla explicitly told me that Isabella had no recollection of her time in Grove Hill, yet here she is, asking me about something that she supposedly can’t recall. Which means she’s remembering, and if it’s true that she can reminiscence tiny details like that, then maybe she’ll start to recollect our time together. I’m about to ask her, how much of her memory she has back, when she changes the subject swiftly.
“Tell me about your tattoos.” She gestures with her hand to my arms, and I chuckle at her command.
“We’ll be here all day if I explain each one to you.” I wink at her while flexing my arms in front of me, giving her a better view of them. Each one is significant in its own way, a reminder of her or our time together, permanently imprinted on my body. Isabella seems mesmerized by my ink as she continues to search each tattoo. The concertation is evident by a little crease on her forehead.