Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Isabella
7 YEARS AGO - ONE FEbrUARY
They say one finds happiness among their true joy, which makes no sense since that’s how it’s supposed to be if that’s where we’re to find it. However, there are multiple ways to reach happiness, just like a perfect math equation. There isn’t one way and damn sure, not everyone gets to be happy. But I like to think of it as comfort.
Happiness is when you find yourself in a comfortable position. When you have a comfortable blanket to cover yourself with. A person who spikes comfort in you whenever you’re with them. To me, that’s what happiness is. And that’s what I feel whenever Travis is by my side, like now.
“So, what’s next?” I ask, my hands roaming around in Travis’ hair. He sits in between my legs, his back placed on my chest. His laptop lightens up the room a little as we watch his favorite show. Peaky Blinders. This is the third time he’s forced me into watching it with him, and no matter how much I would love to do other things, it heals my heart to see how passionate he is every time I press play.
For that, I’ll sit through hundreds of episodes of that show, just as he will deliberately listen to my favorite songs on shuffle. In a relationship, it’s important to compromise, because without that, there will be nothing to fight for. And with it, there’s always something to learn about each other.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
My other hand lies on top of his, on his chest. He softly caresses it, and with time, he’s found a rhythm he’s been repeating. It makes me feel safe and cared for.
“College, career, future,” I cite, my thoughts finally out.
It’s been a few months since we’ve been done with high school, and Travis has been going back and forth from college. His campus is about four hours from town, but he still drives back here every weekend to spend time with me and his family. He’s majoring in arts. Expected. I was planning to go with him to the same school, but the issue was… I didn’t know what to do there.
Sure, I’ve always wanted to make a nice living for myself, but I never thought of what that living could be. I’ve gone back and forth from major to major, and clearly, none of them worked for me.
I know it’s not an obligation for me to know what to do with my life, but seeing him thrive in what he loves makes me wonder. Am I screwing up my life? It’s just that it’s hard to plan out my entire life based on a single major. How can a freshly new adult decide their path immediately after leaving high school, where everything is prepared for them and everyone is conforming to the same rules?
I could have chosen a science or history major, but the questions keep sparking up. What if I don’t like the courses or fail? What if I do graduate but can’t find a job? Or worse, what if I hate the job?
They are questions that have been occupying my head for the past few months, even at the New Year’s dinner at Travis’ house. I was a wreck that day. I had just opened an email stating that one of the most prestigious colleges in New York had rejected me. The next minutes after that email, I started feeling shitty, and straight-up humiliated.
My mom was right there, and she had that soft smile on her face, expressing how much she forestalled things. But then I got over it. It was obvious I wouldn’t get in. I wasn’t the best of all the students, so it wasn’t a shocker, but for once, I just wanted a yes. Even if it was from a level B or a community college. A yes was enough.
The process was already draining and demanding, so the added rejections made it seem like with every step I was taking, I was going ten feet backward. My mental health began degrading, and so did my faith in myself. It was a mess. A mess I endured on my own.
So, seeing Travis’ smile as he stood in front of his door, waiting for me to meet his mother, opened my eyes. We were completely different. I like that difference, and would never not, but it is too significant. He has his life figured out a little, and all I do is stay at home, watch TV shows, and pretend I’m a celebrity in my room as I blast songs with a fake microphone in hand.
“What do you plan on doing after you’re done with college?” I continue.
I don’t necessarily need an answer from him. I only need to get these thoughts and feelings out of my system. And what better time than now, when he’s focused on the show?
“I plan on working for a while, then buy a ring,” he blurts out.
“A ring?”
“A promise ring. For you.” He sits up from my chest and turns to face me. Our hands remain locked together. “Would you like that?” he asks.
Now I feel even shittier for having these thoughts. Travis is perfect. He’s super thoughtful, and of course, he loves me. And I love him. Something I have yet to tell him. But my inferiority overpowers the rest, which I know is selfish to say but is true.
“You know you’re not supposed to tell the girl you’re giving a ring to, that you’re planning on giving her a ring, right?” I chuckle, roaming my hands in his unbearably soft hair once again.
“I only want to know if that girl would love that. Of course, it wouldn’t end with a promise,” he murmurs as he gets closer. His lips land on mine, and I for sure love this promise.
It shouldn’t matter if we’re at different places in our lives right now, what should, is that we plan on being on the same road in the future. I’ll, one day, know what to do with my life. Who knows, maybe I’ll join him in his major, and we’ll get to see each other more often.
“Travis, have you seen—” Libby storms in and breaks us up from the intense and memorable kiss I wish would’ve lasted longer. “Sorry, I should’ve knocked.” She hurries to close the door but then stops, leaving a slight opening.
“Mom!” Travis yells.
“Are you two dressed?” She throws out the same tone he took. “I thought I told you not to close the door when you two are in here. Did I not?”
“We weren’t doing anything.”
“Yeah, of course.” She enters the room, an apron covering her outfit. Now that I think about it, two out of three times, when I come to Travis’ house, she’s with an apron on.
“I didn’t tell you to come in.” Travis rushes up and tries to nudge her out of his room.
She stands her ground as she barely budges from his push. “Is that a condom I see on the bedside table, Travis McGreen?” she asks out loud and he halts.
“Mom!” Travis yells.
I distance myself from them and lean on the headboard. I want nothing to do with this. It’s embarrassing enough for his mother to walk in on us frenching. I don’t want the sex talk to be added to it. And with the little time I’ve spent with his mom… I know she will.
He sprints to the table in question, eager to reach there before she does. This is a popcorn-worthy moment.
“What are you doing?” he yells again. He gets to the condom first and, to my surprise, Libby doesn’t back off. She tries to snap it out of his hand, and they dance in unison, battling for who gets the condom. Popcorn-worthy, I say.
I smile as I watch them battle over a fucking condom.
“Have you been having sex, young man?” she asks in a specific motherly voice. Like the one we hear from movies, but this time, I’m witnessing it.
I should be on edge as well, but I’m enjoying this. Only because I know we haven’t done the deed yet. We’re approaching our first anniversary, and I’m in no rush to see him naked anytime soon. I’d love to, but for now, I’m satisfied with the melting kisses and cozy cuddles. Even the hand holdings make my day.
“It’s none of your business, Mom.” He throws the squared plastic in my direction, and I don’t see it coming. It lands in the last place I would want it to. My face. What the hell, Travis?
“Um.” I lose my words as I quickly get it off and throw it on the floor. I can’t believe we’re having a condom fight. With his fucking mother.
“Mom, please leave before you humiliate me in front of my girlfriend,” he politely asks, holding on to the last bit of his dignity.
“Too late for that,” I say, a chuckle masking my voice. Travis sighs as he hides his face behind his hand.
“Well, at least you’re protecting yourselves,” she says. That seems to be his last straw as he forces her towards the door with determination. I can feel his anxiousness all the way here, and it’s so funny.
“Mom, please,” he pleads. He succeeds as he shoves her outside and shuts the door.
“Wait, I came to ask you if you’ve seen Angelo?” Her voice echoes from outside. I let go of my composure and burst out laughing at the magnificent scene that was just showcased before me. I’ll never forget this.
“No, I haven’t. And please, next time knock before walking in here,” he says.
“There won’t be a next time if you keep closing the door,” she retaliates, and he groans. The door still stays shut, though.
We hear nothing else from her, so I assume she’s gone. Travis walks back towards me and climbs on the bed. “So sorry about that.”
My composure melts, and I burst out laughing. “Why? It was fun. Your mother is so…”
“Invasive, I know.”
“No, sweet.” I imprison his face in between my palms and squeeze. “Just like you.”
“We both have different definitions of sweet.” His lips purse the more I squeeze. “Ugh, I feel so humiliated right now.”
“Not more than me, stupid. You threw a fucking condom on my face. Nothing is more humiliating than that,” I playfully hiss. “Except for your mom walking in on you making out with your girlfriend.” I gently seal our lips together, and like it had happened before, he intensifies it.
He pulls me in against his chest while his left arm wraps around my waist. I let go of his cheeks and surround his neck with both my arms, tightening the tension between us. His mom can walk in on us again for all I care. I won’t let go this time. With a gentle touch, he kisses my forehead, making all worries fade away.
Travis searches for a way to be in contact with my skin and slides his hands on my thigh, pulling my leg to sit on him. It’s a good thing I’m wearing a skirt today. This boy fully controls my body. I sit on him, my legs spread and my hands wandering on the back of his head. Not a second has gone by without our lips together.
It’s also a good thing I love wearing crop tops because right now, they’re his best friends. After securing me on top of him, he slides his hands beneath the top, finally reaching his goal. His touch on my skin sends shivers down my spine and makes me forget any worries in my life. He gets to my barely existent lace bra and cups my breast. I can’t believe this is what we’re doing mere seconds after his mother just walked out of here. Talk about risk.
“Not here, Trav,” I whisper through the kiss.
“Where then?”
“Anywhere but here,” I moan. “And not today.” I snap out of the moment and slam into his chest. His lips appear reddened and glossy already. This is the hottest I’ve ever found him, and I can’t even touch him. Not with his mother a few rooms away from us. Not in his house.
After almost hooking up with the boy of my dreams, I get back home. My mother warned me to be back before midnight, but Travis kept saying, “One more episode before you go.” Ten times, and time flew like wind.
“You’re late.” Mom’s voice stuns me as I close the door slowly to not avert her. An already failed mission.
“Shit,” I mouth without a sound, my back still facing her.
“It’s one in the morning, Isabella. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m home, aren’t I?” I say, walking past her to go up the stairs. She keeps her ground with her arms folded on her chest.
“Don’t you dare walk away while I’m speaking to you, young lady!” She raises her voice, but I ignore her.
“It’s late and I’m tired. Tomorrow, okay?” I suggest, quickly reaching the end of the stairs and to my room on the left. I’m way too happy for this night to be ruined by her. Tomorrow, it will wear off, and then she can scold me all she wants.
“Isabella!” she yells.
“Goodnight.” And I slam the door.
I immediately fall on the bed, my arms spread wide, and the ceiling view looking as bland as ever. But then, Travis’ name appears on my screen as it rings and I think back on our moment together a few minutes ago. I smile as I stare at him, not answering yet. I miss him already and it makes me feel ill. If it continues like this, I might grow addicted to him, and it’s not much of a good thing.
But I want to.
I pick up after a few rings. “Are you home?” he asks.
“Yes. Safe and sound.” I turn on my bed to lie on my stomach. My legs go back and forth in the air as I hold the phone to my ear. “I miss you,” I confess.
Fuck me. I’m already addicted.