Hey, coming at you guys with a new story. This will be a romance/friendship/hurt comfort story. It will get heavy sometimes, but I will always worn you. This new baby is something that just popped and stuck in my head. I'm excited to write about this Bella & Edward's journey.
Phoenix
"Your serve, Isabella!", yells my complete-waste-of-space gym teacher.
"I have a note."
"Again?"
"Yes, my wrist are still very sore from those push-ups you forced us to do last week, and my doctor wants me to rest them."
She doesn't even ask to see the note. She doesn't even try to argue with me, because she knows there is no point.
"Okay well then I want you to walk a couple of laps around the track."
That's fine.
It's nice out today. Fall is only two days away, so we're finally getting rid of that dreadful humidity.
Isn't this what physical activity is all about? Fresh air, and pacing, and stress-relief?
Why don't people understand things?
"New Hair, Lauren? Very nice."
No it isn't. It's fried. There are some patches where the color didn't even seem to take. It's painful just to look at it.
I watch her eat it up.
You runs your hand down her face and twist a lock of her hair. She giggles. They make plans for this weekend. You'll take her to the movies Friday. Bed her Saturday. Not text her Sunday. And tell her you forgot on Monday, and then she'll join the orbit—the orbit of women that you fuck without consequence, and she won't mind. She'll eat it up.
Why don't people understand things?
Your chair squeaks as you take your seat next to me.
"Hello, Isabella" I'm not looking at you, but I can hear the smirk in your voice.
"Did you finish the powerpoint?" I ask as I study my nails.
"Of course I did. How could I forget? You taped a note to my locker everyday last week."
"You're not reliable, I needed to make sure you got it done."
You lean towards me, putting your hand on the back of my chair, so that you're looking down at me. "why wouldn't you just message me?" "Because once I walk out of this building I don't want any communication with you."
You laugh, as usual.
"You are such a hard-ass Isabella Swan."
Edward Cullen: a handsome, foolish, whore.
Finally Mrs. Brason comes in, she tells us that we can volunteer to go up or that she can choose us randomly.
Everyone grumbles and shifts nervously, but I raise my hand and tell her that you and I will go.
You will get nothing in life if you sit around and wait for someone to make decisions for you.
Of course when we're presenting, I stick to the slides and you paraphrase, but it's not like anyone is even paying attention. Everyone else is just silently practicing what they're going to say so that they don't look like idiots when they come up here. I don't know why. What's to be nervous about? We have presentations every other week. Get used to it.
Walking to my car, someone catches my jacket. "Hey, I think we aced that."
"Of course we did. You can rest your brain. We don't have another presentation for a week." I joke.
"Yeah, about that, baseball conditioning is going to take most of my time, so we should probably try to stay ahead."
"We have the syllabus so we can definitely do that."
"Ok good, I just didn't want you to castrate me later, so I wanted to give you a heads-up." You say with a smile.
"I appreciate that." And really, I do.
"So it's Friday, you got any plans?" Why are you asking? You know I don't.
"I have a calc test on Monday."
"Please tell me you are joking?"
"If I'm going to get out of here, I need excellent grades."
You start off with rolling your eyes. "you're going to get into a good college, everyone knows that, but you know you're supposed to have like personal experiences, and all that shit to write essays about."
" 'all that shit'…okay. I'm going to write about how my English partner held me up from going grocery shopping, effectively throwing off my whole day. How about that?"
There's that laugh again.
"Alright, alright. I'll be seeing you."
"Yeah, okay."
While driving and even when I get to my grocery store I mentally reorganize Edward and I's schedule for our assignments.
It's a nice distraction, but when I get home and see Charlie huddled under the table, it's like cold ice water that brings me back.
What are you theories/predictions? Let me know. xoxo