Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Isabella
PRESENT DAY
Mornings are like infinite treasures with a time limit and most of all, they’re a privilege. They come and go, but once they’re here, it’s hard to let go. Being able to see the day itself is a gift, and though I’m not a morning person, I’ll always cherish the times I get up early. But not today.
The sunlight hits my closed eyes like an asteroid striking the earth as I stretch into the bed. It’s so bright and almost blinding, forcing me to keep them closed. Just when I stop moving around the bed after the most satisfying stretch of my life, memories start flooding me in splashy waves.
Last night.
The first thing that comes to mind is the shots hitting the table after gulping them, one after the other. Then Colin and James’ faces appear, looking particularly worried about whatever we were talking about. Then it hit me. “FUCK!” I wake up from the bed, screaming. “No!”
My hands fidget around, searching for my phone. “No, no, no.” I continue to throw items around the bed. The covers, pillows, and purple-patterned headscarf I had on my head yesterday, and skirts all fly to the floor. My skirt. I glance down at myself and find that I indeed have nothing but my panties on and I freak out. “Mom!” I scream.
I finally see my phone on the floor, in front of the door. I waste no time reaching for it to call Colin. I have no time to even correct myself or make sense of why I’m only in my underwear.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t come home alone, and Travis’ face emerging in my vision is a proof of that. Alone. With me. Everything past his face is a blur and my brain can’t take it.
The beeping finally stops. “What the fuck happened last night?” I lose my temper.
“You don’t remember?” he asks.
“If I did, would I be asking?”
“True.” He sighs. “We left you with Travis last night, asked him to take you back home, and then left. Whatever happened after that, we don’t know.”
“What?” I say out loud.
“Why? Did something happen between you two?” he asks. I walk around the room, trying to remember any key items of what happened after the boys had left, but nothing pops up. “Don’t tell me you’re at his place.” I pause in my tracks and I don’t know why. “Are you at his place?” he asks in a whisper, as if a secret is about to be told.
“What? No, I’m home. Though…” I look down again, my lower half still out in the open.
“What?” He snaps me out of it.
“Nothing! I have to go.” I make a move to end the call but then bring it back up to my ear. “Hey! I’ll deal with the two of you later. You just wait. Don’t even try to run. I’ll find you.” Then I hang up.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I try so hard to remember anything at all, but my mind is still blank. The night ended from the moment the last shot had landed in my stomach. After that, it was pitch black. I see words being mouthed by Travis but without a sound and…
Oh, my God! I fell. I fucking fell.
I lean on the door and slowly slide down to sit on the floor, defeated. My body is tense and I feel like crying. Not knowing much of anything allows my mind to form scenarios, and bad ones at that, which are horrible. Maybe I should call Travis. That’ll clear things up. I search for his name on my call list, swiping down.
“Isabella?” My mom’s voice stuns me and I accidentally press the call button. I panic and quickly hang up before he can answer.
“Yes!” I yell, frustrated.
“Someone’s here for you.”
Someone? Among her many lovable flaws, my mother isn’t somebody who can keep a mystery alive for long, so who’s this ‘someone’? And why does it make me feel uneasy? I get up from my crouched position and throw on the denim shorts laid on the chair next to me.
Maybe it’s for the best if I don’t ask him anything. I can just move on and put last night behind me like nothing happened. I mean, if I look at it, I really don’t know what happened, so it’s no different.
I rush downstairs, but before I get to the main door, I halt. What if Travis is the one behind that door? What am I to do then? It’s too much of a coincidence that the day after, someone’s here for me. Me .
“Isabella!” she yells again. This time her voice is extremely loud as I’m pretty close to them.
I take in a deep breath, charging up my courage to face him. “Who…” I choke on my words, unable to form anymore. My mother moves to the side and shows who’s behind the door. “Olivia?” I tilt my head, unable to fathom anything.
Olivia stands there with the same thin and wide smile she had at the cafe, almost looking insincere, but I don’t think much of it and return one to her. She’s the last person I had expected. “Hi,” she says. The last.
Before I could even question why she was at my doorstep looking like a Walmart version of Elena Gilbert in the season finale of Vampire Diaries, she dragged me to a reserved and out-of-town area in her car. A building in particular. Its walls are nothing but gray bricks and a huge sign hangs on top, claiming its use. The shooting range. This girl keeps surprising me.
Sand is all that covers the path leading to the building, and the surroundings are almost deserted. I can only see two or three buildings on the far left, which are the owner and his family’s house.
I’ve been here before, in discretion, of course. Colin, James, and I have done stupid things in our teenage years and until today, not many people know about them. We like to call those moments the secret adventures of the trio. And nothing goes past the secret adventures of the trio, including a shooting range.
I follow Olivia in. “So… what brings us here?” I ask her, my hands behind my back and skimming the area.
I must admit, it feels weird coming back here without the boys. Usually, one of them will be running toward the owner for a booth, while the other hails at the bartender for drinks.
“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how well you can handle a gun.” She goes towards the owner, and for reasons I do not know, I follow like a duckling after its mother.
I pause. “Excuse me?”
“Number 4,” the owner says, right after she hits the table with a pen. She has signed the NDA and consent forms, a requirement every time one enters and wishes to hold a gun.
She turns to me, a cunning look on her face. “Are you up for it or are you too much of a chicken to even touch one?”
“Did you truly drag me here only to watch me shoot at a target?” I reach for the pen, ready to sign my forms. She adjusts to the side, giving me space. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. You can tell me the real reason you brought me here?” The left side of my lips raises up my cheek as I speak.
“Number 5,” he interrupts and says to me.
“Is it about what I saw last time? Because if it is—” Since she doesn’t seem to be speaking, I take on the extra work as I make my way to my booth. The smell of gunshots already fired overwhelms my nostrils.
“I want you to back off him.” Her voice puts me to a halt right in front of the booth.
“Come again,”
“Travis. I want you to stay away from him. I know I’m in no position to even ask this, but I’m pleading with you right now. Just let him move on.”
I pick up the gun. “And why is that?”
“You were there that day. I saw you. Standing behind the trees in front of his house, yearning for him to come out of his hideaway.”
“That’s—”
“But I went in. You saw me go in and did nothing to stop me. You probably also heard our conversation in there before the?—”
“Kiss,” I interject.
“Yes. The kiss.”
I chuckle. My finger slowly pushes down the trigger and a second later, a loud bang busts my eardrums. It’s so loud it almost makes me flinch, as I didn’t have on the headset yet. “Your turn,” I say.
“I’m not done talking.” She frowns.
“I thought we weren’t here to talk.” I put down the gun and put on the headset. I don’t want her voice to be the last I hear.
Her arms line up straight as she holds the gun, firm and statue-like. I give her props for her stance, but my admiration dims as I lean back to focus on her hands. She’s trembling. It doesn’t seem to be her first time here, nor does she look like an amateur, but by the tense shoulders she’s carrying, she doesn’t look that far different.
A few shots later, she finds satisfaction and stops. The strings of her target slide forward towards her so she can see her performance, and I do the same with mine. A subtle smile lines on my face as I see two X shots, an upper nine, and a chest shot on my target. Pretty good for my first time after almost a decade.
Then hers catches my eye.
“What do you think? Can I handle a gun?” I ask, clearly not expecting an answer from her.
“Whatever,” she murmurs.
“That’s the difference between you and me, Olivia.” I pick back up the gun and size it up. “I go for the kill. You… you play around to find out if the next shot is going to be the one, and that’s only second to best.” Its weight perfectly drags my hand down, but not as much as my words seem to be dragging her down.
She stares at her target for what seems like forever, and I don’t blame her. For someone who showed such confidence about her skills to only be hitting far off the lines, it cannot be fulfilling.
“Kiss or no kiss, standing at the distance from his house or walking in. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. He’s not yours, nor is he mine. But one thing you’re not going to do is call me out here and put on a show.”
“A show? I’m just…”
“I know you two didn’t kiss that night, and being close to doing so doesn’t make it right for you to want to rub it in my face. I don’t care whether you two end up together one day or not, and I couldn’t care less of whether you believe he’s yours. Do you want to know why?” I go on a heated rampage as my tone raises a few octaves and I leave her no time to answer. “Because at the end of the day, Travis is my target and even if I’m not his, I know well enough not to go knocking on doors early in the morning to fire a gun.”
Olivia chuckles, her head bent to the floor as she stares at her shoes.
“And Olivia, a piece of advice. Eating from a fruit that already has the bite marks of another on it is tacky. So, find another and leave me out of it.” I slam the gun and leave the booth.
There’s nothing more frustrating than someone trying to one you up because they think they can or deserve to. And even worse, when they claim people for their sole benefit. I care about Travis very much, and the last thing I want for him is someone who does trashy things like that. A shooting range. Seriously? Of all the places she could’ve chosen to show some sort of upper hand, she chose that? What a waste of my morning.
I walk out and immediately regret flows into my bloodstream. We’re out of town. And we came in her car. Fuck.
I have no choice. I reach for my phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts and just when I’m about to call Colin, I feel her presence behind me.
“I bet you wish you hadn’t said all those things right about now,” she says.
I keep my focus on my phone. “No…” I avoid her.
“Come on, I’ll take you back.” She takes the lead. “I brought you here, didn’t I?” Her hair swings as she hops on her feet, heading towards her car parked a few feet away from us.
I contemplate calling Colin for a while, but then she turns back, hitting me with her wide smile and I drop my arm on my side.
“Are you coming?” she yells.
The road back couldn’t have been worse. My eyes kept stuck on the road, while her lips were tight shut. And I can’t lie, I love it. The unbearable silence took over us, so, along the way, I asked her to drop me off at the cafe. I need coffee anyway, and even more… I need to be away from her as fast as possible.
Without wasting time or waiting for her to set herself along the pavement, I get out of the car after she parks on the opposite side of the cafe.
“Isabella?” a familiar voice calls my name from a distance and I turn in response.
“Travis,” I say out loud. My eyes indirectly peek at Olivia, still sitting in the car. Maybe, if had stayed in there a few seconds longer, I wouldn’t find myself in this undesirable situation.
“Hi.” I move forward, further away from the car. I should meet him in the middle instead of him joining me next to his admirer and her keen sight.
“Did you just come out of that car?” He gestures with his head, pointing at said car.
“Yes.” I bluntly answer, trying my best to keep him at a safe distance. I don’t even know why I’m fighting to keep him out of her sight, but I just know I have to.
“But that’s Olivia’s car,” he says, still staring at the car.
“I know.”
“Why were you in Olivia’s car?”
“Um…” I look back, slowly getting irritated that she’s still around. “Went for a walk.”
He squints his eyes. This time, his attention is on me and not on her stupid car. “In her car?”
“Okay, I get it. It’s her car. I was in it. I’m obviously lying about going for a walk. In a car. Can we now move on?”
“Not until you tell me why you were with her.” He takes a step towards me, and I take three steps back.
Just then, my worst premeditation happens. I hear a grand slam of a car door behind me, shifting his gaze once again. “Hey, Trav.”
Olivia.
Travis’ eyes widen and I deeply stare into them, all kinds of emotions overthrowing me from my feet. “I—” he stutters. “Olivia.” He briefly recognizes her presence, breaking contact with me.
I still keep my eyes on him, in disbelief as to what I just heard.
“How are—” Her voice hardens my chest and I struggle to turn and look at her.
“Can we talk?” He interjects her words and finds his way back to me. “In private.”
“Sure.” My voice withers, losing any form of confidence it might have had in that shooting booth.
He walks ahead of me and abruptly stops. Only a few steps. Maybe five, and we stop. I finally turn back and see Olivia walking towards the driver’s door. Good.
“How are you feeling?” Travis’s words control my body as I turn back towards him.
“Pretty good, why?”
“Here.” His right hand moves forward in a horizontal line and I notice the white plastic bag in it.
“What is that?”
“Hangover medicine. I was going to give it to you later, but since you’re here… sober up when you get home.”
I take it from his hand. Coffee was supposed to be my hangover medicine, though it’s the worst thing I could gulp down my throat early in the morning. But this is far better.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“About last night,” he says the forbidden phrase.
“Can we not talk about this?” I look back again, this time, also scanning our surroundings for any stray eyes. “I don’t recall, so you can imagine how embarrassed I feel to see you here.”
“How can you say you don’t recall if you remember you’re forgetting something?” He squints his eyes, a subtle smile lingering on his lips, and I look down at my feet. “Don’t worry, you did nothing to be embarrassed about. Well…” He strains. “You vomited on my shoes and in my car, but…” I hit him on his chest, cutting him short.
“Okay, I get it.”
“Oh, and I’m forgetting.”
“What?”
“You know what? Try to remember yourself. It’d be too easy if I told you, wouldn’t it?” He hasn’t fixed his cheekiness, I see. “Call me if something comes up,” he adds.
“Just tell me. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
“Like what?”
“You tell me.”
“Call me when you remember, okay?” He leaves me standing there as he brushes past me towards where Olivia is standing.
“That’s reassuring,” I say under my breath.
I cross the street and head towards the cafe. That was the plan and walking back home right now will just look strange. As I go, my back itches and I’m aware he isn’t far away from it, talking to Olivia. But I can’t look back at him, not now. Maybe when I’m inside, through the glass windows, but not now. My steps slowly skip forward as I stall. Out of nowhere, a cloth-like material wraps around my waist, stunning me.
“What…” I quickly turn to see Travis and his arms wrap my waist, holding onto his jacket. His face is close to mine. So close, I can feel his hot breath on my lips. The sensation sends both chills and a vague memory I can’t quite put my finger on. I then look down at my waist and the picture sends butterflies down my belly, putting me in a chokehold. It might have been stupid for me to come out in only shorts and a white hoodie, but now I believe it was the best decision of my life.
“Better?” he whispers, still an inch away from me. I keep my eyes on his lips and nod.
“Don’t forget to call.” His raspy, low voice continues to keep me off my feet.
My heart is beating out of my chest and I can’t keep calm. On the outside, I’m sure I look unbothered by his sudden action, but I’m screaming on the inside.
He walks away and all I can feel is how strong my heart is trying to reach out to him. Fuck! I hadn’t fully realized how standstill Olivia was until now as my eyes shifted a bit to her, leaning on her car. Watching. A smile illuminates her face as she sees Travis walking back towards her. And, strikingly, I’m not even jealous about it.
I couldn’t stay in the cafe for longer than a minute after what Travis had just pulled, so I took to go and rushed out of there. I didn’t even address them as I sprinted back home, the zip of his jacket scraping my thighs and the hotness of the cup burning my palm.
The entire way home, my mind kept searching for what had happened last night. It must have been pretty important if he’s motivated enough for me to remember.
“Good, you’re back. Did you, by any chance, have a meeting planned for today?” My mom surprises me as I step foot inside.
I get to her in the living room, watching her show again. “No, why?”
“I just thought the yellow post-it you had stamped on the bathroom mirror stating ‘Meeting at nine. Don’t miss.’ meant something. That’s why.” She doesn’t even shift her gaze towards me.
“Oh, crap!” I place the coffee cup on the kitchen countertop and rush upstairs, still in my shoes and his jacket wrapped around my waist. I skip two steps in between to go up faster.
As soon as I entered the room, I searched for my laptop. And this morning’s activities circle back again as I throw everything around. I’m ten minutes pastime, and knowing Madison, I won’t hear the end of it.
I scanned and sent her Travis’ contract with everything required in the car back from the airport yesterday. It didn’t take long for her to text me back when I was at the bar to set a video call meeting the next day. It’s a good thing I have a habit of putting important to-dos written on my bathroom mirror.
There it is. My laptop. It lies comfortably on a pile of clothes a little beneath the bed and I pick it up. I’m not quite sober for this meeting, yet, but I think I can handle a few yes and no since this is more of a round down of pieces to demand for or accept from the artist.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. I overslept. I kept you waiting, didn’t I?” I don’t even wait for her camera to load up before rushing to apologize. I sit on the floor in front of the bed and lean on it.
“Good job, Isabella,” she says.
“Huh?” I breathe out as my eyes open wide.
“I sent the contract to Maxwell this morning, and he’s extremely happy with it. I believe this is it. The list is complete. Thanks to you, of course.”
I smile. “Oh, thank you, but it was a team effort. I’m surprised myself that we got him to sign, but at least we can’t breathe now,” I joke.
She heavily sighs, pretending to wipe sweat off her forehead, definitely relieved to have Maxwell off her back as well.
“By the way, have you received Mr. Laurier’s pieces yet? I need you to oversee and validate them so we can move on to him as well.”
I open my emails and minimize my view of her face on the screen. “I see them now. Don’t worry, I have it covered. I’ll send the list to you by the end of the day.”
There’s always this lingering feeling whenever I work or talk about work. It’s as if becoming a new person, one I can’t help but admire. It’s strange to say this myself, but I like who I am when I’m working. Maybe it is because I love my job— not the boss and work environment —or the confidence I gain from it, but I do. But that confidence and likeness have an on-and-off switch, which is pretty draining.
“So, how’s Laurier?”
“Oh, speaking of…” Madison’s voice raises an octave, and it excites me. I get up, hop on the bed, and cross my legs as I listen to her. “I heard from a friend who heard from someone that Laurier has been asking around for your personal number.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and I think he already has it. Has he called you yet?”
I frown as I show prominent disgust. This man is like sixty years old with grey hair. I’m obviously not going to be pleased to hear that. “No! Of course not. Did someone give him my number?” She stays mute and my heart swiftly pounds. “Who gave it to him?”
She searches around the room she’s in, clearly bad at acting.
“No!” I scream. “No, no, no. Please, tell me you didn’t.”
“Of course, not. Ew! No, Maxwell did.”
If my eyes were wide open before, they’re out of their socket now.
“Oh, my God!” I scream again, this time ready to murder someone. “Why would Laurier even ask for my number?” I ask.
“For the gala, of course.”
“The gala?”
“Isabella! You can’t possibly tell me you forgot about the gala. The seasonal art gala?”
I learn from her acting lessons and skim the room as well, avoiding her eyes. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. It’s the most prestigious art event in the world. How could you forget? Everyone with a thick wallet will be there.”
“I know. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“I hope you have a gown prepared, unlike me, because it’s in three days and I’m panicking the hell out.”
“What?” I leave my mouth open, stunned by the number of days that just spurted out of hers.
“What?” she asks.
“Did you say three days?”
“Duh…” she says, as if I hadn’t forgotten a gala was happening. “When is your flight, by the way? I forgot to ask you the last time I called, which resulted in me telling Maxwell you’ll be in Paris tomorrow. In time to suck up to Laurier.”
I stopped listening to her as soon as she said the number three. My mind roams off to Travis. It’s always Travis. Three days isn’t enough for me to catch up with him or…
“Madi?” I call for her.
“Yes,”
“I have something to tell you, and please promise me you won’t freak out or tell Maxwell, or anyone, for that matter.”
“You’re scaring me, Isabella.”
“Just promise me. Please.”
“I promise.”
I clear my throat. “About Travis, the mysterious-not-so-mysterious artist…”
“Yes.”
More deep breaths . “He’s my ex-boyfriend from before I moved to France. The one I kind of hinted to you about a long time ago. Either way, what I’m trying to say is I think last time he might’ve kissed me.”
“What? Alright, I’ll revisit the matter of the ex-boyfriend later on. What do mean by you think he might’ve kissed you?”
“I’m not finished.”
“There’s more?”
“I think I’m still in love with him. No, I’m still in love with him. Regardless of whether we kissed or not, the magnitude of my love for him is such that every thought of him or mention of his name feels like thunder electrifying my entire body. The thought of his lips back on mine alone is sending jitters into my stomach. Jitters, Madison. Jitters.”
“Um…”
“So, what do I do? I’m supposed to be back before the gala, right? I know I have to, but I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even told him all this yet. About the way I feel and a lot more. Now, I have to leave town again and it doesn’t feel right to, at least not this early.”
“Um…” She’s still at a loss for words.
“I don’t think I can leave him again without saying goodbye, Madi,” I murmur.
I can’t leave this town without asking Travis about what he meant last night. No, I can’t leave without him knowing I remember what happened last night.
— CHAPTER EPILOGUE ?—
Before I could let a word out, his lips were already on mine. The same lips I’ve been yearning to touch one day are now on mine and I don’t know what to do with myself. For a second, I go with it. I tilt my head to the side for a better flow of his actions, but then the last few minutes of my life rush back to me.
“No, no, no.” I get out of the kiss, placing my hands on his chest to push him away.
Wrong move.
It only incites him to grab my waist and pull me even more towards him, plastering our chests together. I lose my breath again as he plunges in for another kiss, devouring my lips. I love the feeling. Travis has never kissed me like this before. Never. And it only makes me want to continue even more, but I know I can’t. For two fairly good reasons.
“We can’t. My breath…” I stop us again.
One reason was that I had just vomited my guts out mere minutes ago, so I couldn’t let him?—
He scrapes my thoughts away as he kisses me again, imprisoning me in his arms. “Can you stop talking?” he murmurs in between my lips, and his breath mixes with mine. The last thing I wanted to happen.
“No, no. Travis! We can’t be doing this. You know we can’t,” I say, this time perfectly separating myself from him. I take three steps back and keep my hands forward to block him.
And, of course, the other reason for refusing this even though I want it, is that we broke up years ago, and we both didn’t take it well, so falling into the wolf’s mouth isn’t ideal for us right now.
“You’re right, you’re drunk. You won’t even remember this,” he says.
I don’t think we agree right now. I’m thinking of sparing our hearts and he’s thinking about me not remembering our kisses, plural ?
“I want you to remember every second of the words I’m dying to say to you,” he continues, taking brief steps toward me and I back away.
“What do you want to say?” I keep my guard up, looking him in the eye. We continue to waltz at the same distance I’ve managed to acquire between us.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
I halt. “No…”
“Then, I can’t tell you.”
He reaches me and my prolonged arms hit his chest, still keeping him away, but not enough.
He smiles as he looks at me and I’m still trying to wrap my head around this entire night. “Come on, I’ll drive you back home.” He says, a smile still washed over his beautiful face.
He grabs both my wrists and puts them down to my sides and I let him. I don’t have enough will in me to fight him. “Get back to me in the morning when you remember this, okay? I need to tell you those words before it’s too late.”
He leans forward, places his hand on my left cheek, and I stare up at him. I keep staring at him. Listening to him.
He keeps closing the gap between us and I stand there glued to the ground. I should move away before he kisses me again. I know that. But somehow, I can’t move.
“I won’t let you go again, Bella.” He diverts and whispers in my right ear.
His breath on my ear flushes my cheeks. Thank goodness I’m buzzed right now, otherwise, my thoughts will be out there in the open for him to read.
“Let’s go,” he says, swiping his fingers down my arm and then holding onto my fingertips. I lose strength and follow his pull as we walk toward his car. I might not remember any of this by the time the clock ticks nine, but I’m happy to live it.