45. Jo
Chapter 45
Jo
“ I ’ll see you next week, Dr. Carello.” Office hours are officially over, and I can turn my attention to getting some work done.
That is, until the doorknob turns again, and I internally groan.
“Hey,” Isaac’s head peeks into my space. “Do you have a minute?”
The moment he’s fully in the office, my nervous system starts to regulate, ridding itself of all the dread of meeting with expectant, and often angry, students. Being a professor is not for the weak.
“Yeah, come in, come in.” The forced smile from before transforms into something more comfortable.
“I just wanted to thank you.” He leans against the door frame, adjusting his glasses to sit higher on his nose. “For everything you did for me last week.”
Dark circles under his eyes are a prominent reminder of the weeks of tears and mourning that the whole Britlyn clan has endured. My whole soul yearns to hug him and not let go.
“I wouldn’t have ever let you do that alone, Isaac.” I lean forward. “How’s Liam? Your dad?”
He sighs, pushing off the wall and letting his body fall into the chair across from me. Rubbing his eyes, he lets out a low chuckle.
“It seems so ridiculous that we’re doing okay.” His eyes meet mine, bright green and sincere. “We’re okay.”
“Grief is weird.” My voice comes out quieter than I anticipated. “I still haven’t figured out how to handle it.”
A group of students barrel down the hall, singing an unidentifiable tune at the top of their lungs before stopping at my open office door. “Dr. Carello!” they yell in unison before noticing Isaac’s presence in the room.
“Dr. Britlyn!” they add with just as much enthusiasm.
“I don’t know how they have so much energy at this point in the semester,” I laugh, taking my seat. “We were literally either sleeping or studying.”
“And completely overdosed on caffeine,” he adds, chuckling. “Those were the days.”
The ruckus in the hallway dissipates, and I’m left unable to produce any meaningful words. Isaac’s shoulders slump slightly, and he stares out the window, blinking rapidly until he meets my gaze.
“Would you want to grab—” My eyes widen in anticipation. Maybe everything that’s happened over the last few weeks hasn’t just been in my head. Maybe he feels it too. I hold his stare, daring him to take the bait.
I know he left those pickles.
“Okay, I’m going to say it.”
Oh my God, he is going to ask me out. Silence falls around us, and I stare at the fidget ring on my finger.
A gust of wind hits the window and shakes us both out of our quiet contemplation. We’ve always had the ability to live in companionable silence, but there’s a sort of energetic buzz surrounding us. Either that, or the sensation indicates a neurological problem, and I should see a doctor.
A doctor that’s not me.
Or Isaac.
Or Carmen, for that matter.
But then he speaks again, and the buzzing intensifies.
“I missed you,” he says.
I apologize to every one of my advanced-placement English and literature teachers. All my vocabulary is gone. No words are stored in the language-functional areas of my brain.
He pushes himself out of the chair with a sigh. “This is inappropriate, I’m sorry.”
“Isaac, no, I—” I stand too. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”
Maybe he does feel it too.
Maybe this is our chance.
“I’m so glad we’re friends again.” Oh. Of course.
“Friends, yeah. Definitely.” I force away the urge to collapse in on myself. If he wants to be friends, then we can be friends.
“Good.” he reaches his hand out to awkwardly take mine. “Great. Then I’ll see you around.”
Before he reaches the door, he turns back to look at me.
“Maybe you’ll actually come to the faculty meeting tomorrow?”
I snort out a laugh, following him toward the door as he turns the handle and pulls it open. “Bring me a coffee, and I’ll be there.”