She was back. After four years she back, in the same way she left. No word. No sign. But he had to admit that he gave up on her to fast. He saw her around town once or twice, and made sure to turn the other way around. She was different from highschool. He didn't want to remember the dream that he had with her. He was happy with his new life. A new girl every time they would ask for more, yet since he saw her in town there was no one that could get in his bed.
He tried so hard to not get close to her, yet there she was in the same bus station, hoping to get out of the rain.
"Nathaniel." his name on her lips was a whisper, barely audible in the rain that caught both of them. When he met her gaze, he felt drawn into her eyes. The icy blueness generated a feeling like he was being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of apprehension. He could tell by her body language that she did not like him, and those flickering azure orbs confirmed his thoughts.
He could remember how easy it was to read her by them, when they were younger. She was never a good liar.
It was dark outside and it was getting cold, the only source of light coming from the lamppost. She was starting to shiver, yet she didn't bring her hands together to try to keep herself worm, like he saw most female did.
"Isabella."
And just like that the conversation died.
"I live in the same place. Do you want to stay there until the rain stops?" if his presence didn't get a reaction from her, his question did. But the flicker of emotion was gone in a matter of seconds, being replaces by an all-knowing smirk.
"Nathaniel, if it was any other guy, I would have said no in a heart beat."
'But I am not some other guy.' he thought
"I know."
In less than 10 minutes, they were at his apartment. And there he was able to memorize every detail of her. Her once blue hair was a pastel pink. Her clothes left enough to the imagination, but not as much as he wished. Her shorts were to short after him, while the top she was wearing was letting her abdomen visible.. She was staying in the middle of his living room, like a stranger.
"It's the same as back then." she left her bag fall on the floor, while turning to face him, just as he threw his green jacket on the sofa.
"One of the few things that are. You know, back then you were the one that held us together. You were the one that brought us together in the first place." she didn't knew why he was saying that to her it was not like they really cared.
"Rosalya and Alexy said something like that too. I am the bad guy in their stories." her voice was steady, but her heart was beating so fast. She felt like drowning. So many memories, but these memories made her move there again. She lost track of how many times she was there, how many times she painted there.
"You should go and take a shower. You are cold. I will bring you some clothes." She nodded, while looking anywhere but at him. The way she bitted her lower lip, made him realise that she was trying to see if she made a good choice. But she went in the bathroom.
He went to change his clothes, after he left some for her. He gazed at his phone that buzzed a few times on his way. It was one of his friends. There were some photos, but what made him curious about them was the female in them.
Half naked or half-dressed, the smile that was seen beneath her hat it was a Cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that was so wide it was more as if she wanted to eat everyone rather than say hello.
"Man, this is the chick that painted the collection that will come in a few days in town. She is the same age as us and single. We should check it out."
"Sure."
The woman in the photos was not blushing and was not afraid to let people see her, unlike the Bella he knew, that would turn red at the sight of too much skin. That woman was daring people to point at her. It was bothering him that the pictures existed and were public, yet he knew that he hadn't the right anymore.
After their break up, he didn't search for anything. He ignored every thought about her, every memory about her. At nights, when he was alone and drunk, he would sometimes find himself writing to her.
The sound of the water was not audible anymore, and soon she was standing in front of him. She kept her shorts, but she was wearing one of his T-shirts.
"Whiskey?" he offered her a glass and observed her caution gaze. But she took it and drank it all at once.
The silence was so heavy, yet she moved closer to him, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. Blanche was in her arms, purring.
"Tell me, Nathaniel, are the stories true?" He knew what she meant. Rosalya always disproved his behaviour.
"Like I said, very few things are the same here. I am not one of them."
"I know, I found this on the sink. The old you, would have kept these somewhere out of sight." she threw him a box of condoms.
"Why are you back? I don't think that you missed us."
"And you clearly didn't miss me." the words rolled down her tongue were laced with venom.
"I left some things at my aunt's house. I need them to finish two paintings."
She poured another glass without saying anything. A habit that she did not have.
"I can't really say that I am surprised to see that you changed. Maybe I can say that you finally are yourself and not the uptight student with perfect grades."
A flash of light lit the room, making of them turning to the window.
"You should spend the night here."
"Maybe."
