I also had time to teach myself more complicated chords on the guitar, and write original songs. Half of them were probably crap, but it was a way to kill time whenever I grew tired of lifting weights or hanging with the mindless idiots that, for some reason, I still called my friends. Music had become my escape. It was the only place where I was in total control. My coaches, teachers, and parents didn’t have any say, though my mother relentlessly continued to try. When immersed in the world of whole notes and broken chords, I could feel Isabelle’s presence even though she was thousands of miles away.
She claimed to like the original songs I sang to her over the phone, but I wasn’t so sure she was capable of handing out anything other than praise. Until I started writing down the lyrics so I wouldn’t forget them, I hadn’t realized they all centered around my feelings for her. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.
With my head bowed, and my fingers practically strumming on their own, I sang to the only girl I had ever loved.
Chapter Six
ISABELLE
The summer I would turn fifteen, Roman’s transformation went far beyond a deeper voice, shaggy hair, and the start of a muscular body from putting in extra hours at the gym in order to avoid his dad. God, he was already undeniably beautiful in my eyes even though it would be years before the rest of the world agreed. I couldn’t get over the amazing sensation that radiated through my body when he had lifted me into his arms.
But when Melanie let it slip that Brooke had been harassing me, the flash of anger in his eyes took me by surprise. The floating, fluttering sensation from our hug earlier was replaced with a cold trickle of fear. Even though I already knew from our phone conversations that he was a little more hot-headed than the Roman I met two years ago, a lot of it having to do with his parents’ divorce, it was a little scary.
My eighth grade year hadn’t been any easier than Roman’s ninth. There were more expenses that came with middle school and Aunt Joey was struggling to keep a roof over our heads. I was growing enough that a lot of my clothes didn’t fit, but I didn’t complain because Aunt Joey insisted on hiring a retired music teacher to work on expanding my vocals, and I knew money was tight. She had picked up a second job and was gone all hours of the day.
I took as many babysitting gigs as I could, but there were still endless hours there was nothing to do other than watch one of three stations we got for free off the TV’s antenna. I was grateful that Roman started calling more because he sounded just as lonely. It was obvious that the tension between his parents had become unbearable.
The awkward transition from our broken childhoods to becoming adults fumbling through life had begun, only neither of us had a solid foundation to fall back on. Our parents were absent from our lives, leaving us to blindly feel our way through the hormonal highs and lows that would mold us, define who we would become. We may have been on our own, but at least we had each other.
For this very reason, it especially hurt when Brooke cornered me that night before we headed down for sound off, and said cruel, hurtful things. I’d never be able to un-brand her words from my memories because I knew there was truth behind everything she said—Roman and I could never really be together. We came from different worlds. Opposite sides of the country. I would never cheer for him at his games. He could never ask me to prom. Even if we lived nearby, he came from wealth and I was headed toward poverty. We were bound to nothing more than those precious months spent in Lake Tahoe, no matter how many hours we spent on the phone.
The first thing I noticed when Brooke came storming at me is that she wasn’t quite as pretty as the summer before. Her face had slimmed down, making her nose seem more hooked and her eyes narrowed.
“Do you really think you have a chance with Roman just because you hang out with him for a couple of months every year?” she asked, curling her lips in amusement. “I don’t know who you think you are, because you’re a nobody. You have no idea what Roman is really like. He wouldn’t be caught dead with you at our school, hanging out with our friends. They wouldn’t even let you in through the front door!”
Eventually Melanie came out of the bathroom and Brooke spun around, leaving me in tears. The things she said didn’t hurt as much as knowing she was right.
Still, he was my Roman. And it seemed he had written another song for me, because that first night we were back together, he crooned about the girl with brown eyes and how distance didn’t matter, we’d find a way. I don’t really remember the words or the exact melody, but I’ll never forget the way his deep voice sounded that starry night, and the intensity in his gaze whenever he stopped to look up at me.