Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Xavier
It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m in my usual lunch spot, staring out the window, waiting for the bell to ring.
The week has dragged on, a long, slow march to the weekend.
My mind keeps drifting to Izzy, of course.
It’s impossible not to, especially after last weekend’s race.
I can still feel the way we pushed through that moment together, the adrenaline, the sense that maybe, just maybe, we’re starting to figure this out.
But when I walked into school on Monday morning, she avoided me again. Something is happening to her, and I don’t know what. It’s driving me crazy.
I don’t know why it stings this time. I mean, yeah, it always hurts a little, but there’s something different now.
A shift. I’d let myself believe that after the race, things would change between us.
She would finally see I’m not going anywhere.
But every time I see her, it’s like she’s got this invisible wall between us, and I’m the one banging on it.
I glance across the cafeteria. There she is, sitting with Mia at their usual table.
Izzy’s blonde hair falls just the way I like it, messy but perfect.
Even from across the room, I can see her body is tense, as if bracing for something.
Maybe for me. Her eyes flash toward me, and I catch that split second before she looks away.
This time, there’s something different about it.
It’s almost like she’s not just avoiding me but everything.
Her shoulders are stiff, arms crossed loosely in front of her.
There’s a subtle distance in the way she sits, not fully engaged in whatever Mia’s talking about, yet not completely closed off either.
They walk past me before the bell rings, and I catch her biting her lip, a quick, nervous tic she’s always had when she’s deep in thought.
I wonder what’s going on behind those eyes.
I know I’m reading too much into it, but it’s hard not to. This isn’t just about ignoring me anymore. Something’s wrong, and it’s bigger than her avoiding me. I can feel it.
I’m torn between going over there, confronting her, and just letting it be.
I don’t want to make things worse, but I’m also sick of the games.
She wants to pretend we’re still two people who don’t know each other well enough to care, but I know better.
I’ve seen what she’s capable of, and I know she’s not this cold.
The bell rings, and I grab my bag. The noise of the school is almost deafening as students scramble for their next class. I could go to my locker first, but instead I head straight for the hallway where I know Izzy’s locker is.
It’s always been an unwritten rule. I walk her to class, we talk, and then I get distracted by how much I like being near her. But this week, she’s barely said a word to me.
I round the corner, and there she is. She’s leaning against her locker, flipping through a textbook. She doesn’t look up when I stop a few steps away.
"Izzy," I say quietly, hoping she’ll give me something, anything at all.
Her eyes glance toward me, but she doesn’t smile. She doesn’t even seem happy to see me. She snaps her book shut and shoves it into her bag.
"You in a hurry?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light. The last thing I want is for her to see how bothered I am.
"Just..." she trails off, biting her lip again, but this time it seems she's avoiding saying something. "Yeah, I’ve got stuff to do."
I take a step closer, hoping I can break through whatever she’s keeping locked away. "Stuff? Or are you just avoiding me again?"
Her jaw tightens, and I can see her pull back, just a little, but enough to make me wonder what she’s really thinking. She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t exactly let me in, either.
"You’re not the only one with things to do, Xavier." Her voice is flat, but there's a trace of something in it, as if she’s hiding more than just the words.
I pause, trying to keep my frustration in check. "I’m not asking you to drop everything. I want things to be normal between us. We’re both racers. We’ve been through a hell of a lot together. Why does this feel so much harder than it should?"
Her eyes drift to the floor, and I swear I can see the weight in her shoulders. She’s holding something back, maybe even from herself. "I know you don’t get it," she says, her voice quieter this time. "But sometimes it’s easier to keep things the way they are. No complications."
I take a step closer, determined to get through to her, but she flinches ever so slightly. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but I catch it. It’s like she’s bracing herself for me to push, for me to say more.
"I’m not asking for any complications," I reply, my voice rougher now. "I’m asking for something real. We’re already in this, Izzy, whether we admit it or not. I’m not just going to let you shut me out because it’s easier."
She looks up at me then, and for a second, I see something in her eyes. Something soft, something real. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by the same wall I’ve been hitting for weeks.
"I don’t want to make it harder than it already is," she says, her words coming out like she’s carrying a burden she doesn’t know how to drop.
I try to steady my breathing, the frustration creeping back in, but I can’t push her. Not like this. Not when I don’t even know what’s really going on behind that guarded look of hers.
"I’m not going anywhere," I say firmly, even though I’m unsure whether I’m convincing her or myself. "If you need space, I can give it to you. But don’t expect me to pretend I don’t care."
She doesn’t answer right away. I can see her fingers twitch against the strap of her bag like she’s torn between saying something and saying nothing at all. I wait, giving her the space she needs, but it feels like an eternity.
Finally, she meets my gaze, and for the first time today, there’s a slight tremor in her eyes. "I’m not ready," she whispers, the words barely audible, yet they hit me hard, like a punch to the gut.
My chest tightens at her admission, but I nod slowly, accepting it even as it stings. I can’t force her. I won’t. I have to keep showing up. Even if she keeps pushing me away, I’ll be here.
"Alright," I say quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the ache in my chest. "But I’m still here. Whenever you’re ready."
She doesn’t say anything in return, but I catch her eyes lingering on me for just a split second longer before she turns away and walks down the hall.
It’s not much, but it’s something. And for now, something is better than nothing.