27. Violet
27
VIOLET
It’s been a few weeks since that first date with Isaac, and every day, it just feels like we’re getting closer again. Our daily texts developed into phone calls and then into FaceTime when he started going home on the weekends, and we couldn’t see each other in person.
He’s made a point to take me somewhere every weekend, too, whether it’s to a bookstore or for food or just a drive. He said it doesn’t matter what we do as long as we’re together, and I wholeheartedly agree with him. I think I could climb the highest mountains, run ten marathons, swim across oceans as long as he was by my side.
Spending time with him outside of school has made me realise how contained our relationship was before and how scared we both were to let it be out in the open like this. Even though we haven’t made anything official, I like how it is now that we can create these new memories with each other.
Isaac said he wanted it to be different this time, and it already feels like it is. We’ve started getting more comfortable with being with each other again, our hands linking as soon as we see each other, kisses on cheeks whenever we say goodbye, hugs that linger but not quite for long enough.
He hasn’t been rushing me at all. I’ve been setting the pace for us and making the first move every time, but a part of me wishes he would be the one to do it. I know it’s because he wants me to feel comfortable, but I miss the Isaac who would always be attached to me in one way or another. Whether it was his knee against mine whenever we sat together, hands linked across a table when we studied together, hands on my face when he would press his lips to mine.
I know that the only way we’ll get back to that is if I tell him that I want to put a name to what we’re doing. But he’s been going home for weekends more often now because his parents want him to prepare for his Oxford interviews, and that’s why I can’t yet.
Isaac constantly reassures me that he’s not going there and that he’s only going along with what his parents want so they won’t get suspicious. But there’s still a tiny voice in the back of my mind that makes me think that we’ll go our separate ways when school ends, even after all of this.
I try to push it away, tell myself that he wouldn’t be making this much effort to start again with me if he was going there. But he had his last interview today, and we haven’t spoken much. I’ve been worried that he’ll get sick again from putting too much pressure on himself, but he reassures me that he’s fine whenever I ask him.
I didn’t want to bother him while he was already stressed out so I just told him that he’ll do fine and that I believe in him because I do. As much as the doubts try to cloud my mind, I’ve never completely lost faith in him, even when we broke up. He responded with a simple ‘thank you,’ and I haven’t heard from him since.
It’s getting late into the evening, and I’m trying to focus on working on the project, but I’ve got nothing done. It’s already past eight, and I’m debating texting him again when my phone rings.
“Hey.”
“Hi, how was it?”
He lets out a sigh, and I’m instantly worried about him. I want to see him so I can make sure he’s really okay.
“It was alright, probably could have gone better but it’s done now.”
“Can we FaceTime? I want to see you.” I try to hide the vulnerability in my voice, but think I fail because he doesn’t say anything. I wait for the tone to change to indicate that he’s calling me but it doesn’t.
“Open the door.”
“What?”
“I’m outside.”
I drop my phone and stand up from my desk, rushing over to the door, and when I open it, he’s standing right there. I grab his arm and drag him into my room, locking the door behind us before I pull him into a hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you, too.” He says, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in the crook of my neck.
When we break apart, I take his hand and lead him away from the door and towards my bed, but as I sit down on the edge, he stops short just before he can do the same .
“When did you put them back up?”
He doesn’t have to go into specifics because I already know what’s caught his eye. His birthday cards are pinned to my wall, each delicate memory held up where I can see them every single day.
I debate on telling him the truth or not, if I should just play it off as only putting them back up recently once we started up again. But there’s no point keeping this hidden from him. If I want anything more for us, I need to let myself be vulnerable with him again.
“When you were sick,” I say, my voice quiet as he stares at them. “I kept them in my desk before that. But when I went to see you that day, I don’t know, I just wanted to look at them again, I guess.”
He reaches out a hand to touch them, running his fingers over the same cake that’s drawn on the front of each one with a different number of candles to mark each year. Then he finally looks at me with a slight smile as he sits next to me and takes my hand in his.
I lean my head on his shoulder and then decide to take a chance by asking him something that’s been bothering me since that day.
“Why didn’t you take mine down?”
I can feel his jaw graze across my hair as he turns to look at me, but I don’t move my head from his shoulder. It might be easier to have this conversation if we don’t look at each other.
“I did.”
“They still had the pins in them.”
He doesn’t say anything for a second, but I can feel his jaw moving against my hair like he’s opening and closing his mouth .
“It felt like they were the only thing I had left of you.”
I close my eyes, letting the words into my chest, where my heart is pounding.
“You stopped talking to me, and of course you did. I don’t blame you for that. But then I realised how little we had of each other. There was hardly anything tangible that I could use to reassure myself that what we had was real, that it wasn’t all just a dream.”
He plays with my fingers, untangling our hands and running his fingers up and down my palm.
“But I had your cards. So I settled for looking at them every day, reading them every night, just so that I would remember what it felt like to be with you.”
I take a shaky breath and pull my head away from his shoulder so that I can look at him. He lifts his head, green eyes gazing right into mine, and I see the answer to the question that I’ve been so afraid to ask this whole time. But with him next to me, my hand in his, I feel brave now.
“Where do we go from here, Isaac?” I whisper because we’re so close I don’t need to speak any louder.
“Wherever you want.” His free hand comes up to cradle my cheek, his thumb running across it. “If you want to just be friends, we’ll just be friends. If you want to try again, then we’ll try again. If you want to end it here and never see me again, I’ll walk out that door and tell my parents I want to transfer schools.”
He tilts my head down and presses a kiss to my forehead before focusing his eyes on mine again.
“I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Violet. No matter what it is.”
I close my eyes and bring my hand up to cover his as he drops his forehead down to meet mine .
“I don’t want to just be friends.”
He lets out a soft chuckle and pulls back so he can look at me.
“Good. I don’t want you thinking I act like this with just any of my friends.”
I push at his chest, feigning annoyance, but I can’t hide the laugh that escapes me.
“And that last option is unthinkable.”
“Good again, because I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.”
He smiles at me, and I want to just tilt my head up to his and close the distance so our lips can finally meet again, but I use all my willpower to resist.
“So we’re trying again?”
“I think we’ve been trying this whole time,” I say because it’s the truth.
He leans his head down, and I close my eyes, waiting for the moment his mouth is on mine again, but instead, he kisses my cheek, my nose, and my forehead before wrapping both of his arms around me, holding me close to him.
I pull one knee up on the bed so that I can face him properly and put my arms around his neck, and even though we’ve hugged a lot since we started talking again, this one feels different.
It feels like our hearts are connecting again after being apart for far too long. It feels like a magnetic force pulling us together, erasing any space between us, and I never want it to break. I clutch him tighter, not thinking about anything else apart from the fact that he’s mine again. That he’s always been mine even when I didn’t want to admit it.
His hand runs up and down my spine once, twice, before he loosens his grip and pulls back, hands on my face again so that I look straight at him.
“We’re really doing this?” He smiles at me, hopeful and bright, and I missed that look on his face so much.
“We are.” This time, I kiss his cheek, much closer to the corner of his mouth than he was expecting, I think, because his breath hitches.
Isaac looks down at me with an emotion in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, and then he’s sitting back away from me, and I’m worried I’ve ruined everything.
“I should probably go back to my room.”
My expression must give something away because then he’s shuffling closer to me again, taking both of my hands in his.
“It’s nothing to do with you. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s everything to do with you. I think I should just go before I do something silly.”
“Like what?” I ask him.
“Like kiss you.”
“I think you should.”