Broken Little Melodies(8)

“Like that would ever happen.” I rolled my eyes and pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll listen to ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ on repeat just to make sure,” I whispered into her ear.

Her arms squeezed around me before she pulled away, laughing. “Jerk-face.”

“Don’t go breaking some poor guy’s heart this year at school,” I teased, tugging on a strand of her hair before starting for the car. But suddenly the thought of her spending time with another guy had my guts roiling with jealousy. I looked at her over my shoulder and added, “I mean it.”

“See you next year,” she replied with a casual wave.

As Brooke jabbered non-stop about all the things she wanted to do when we got back to New York, I didn’t take my eyes off Isabelle through the tinted window until she turned to walk away.

It was the first time I realized the dark-eyed girl from California stole my heart.





Chapter Three





ISABELLE





Once the dark brick peak of the administration building came into view the next summer, I became restless and bounced around in the passenger’s seat. It was a painfully long school year without getting to see Roman. We mailed each other our school pictures, otherwise only communicated on the phone once a week or sent occasional emails whenever I got a chance to make a trip to the library.

I lived for our conversations. Roman had insisted on being the one to make the calls in a way that didn’t make me feel bad about not being able to afford it. The handful of times he was late, I’d stare at the phone and hold my breath until it rang. One time his basketball team played a tournament in DC and he didn’t get home until hours later than what he thought because one of his teammate’s parents took them all out for dinner. Of course I figured he either forgot to call or decided he didn’t want to talk to me, and cried myself to sleep. The next morning he called to tell me what had happened, and I was all too quick to forgive him.

Roman was almost as passionate about football and basketball as he was about singing. I literally listened for hours as he explained each of his games, nearly play-by-play. Though I loved hearing his voice, I missed the sparkle in his sea green eyes when he teased me, and the way his shoulders shook whenever he laughed. I missed the comfort that came with his back-rubs, and the warmth of his body when I sat pressed against him. I missed everything about his reassuring smile.

On Christmas morning, fortunately while my aunt was still in bed, he called me to sing “Jingle Bells,” accentuating every “bell” and teasing me afterwards that it was my song. He was the only one who ever called me Belle. The nickname never failed to make my heart race.

Once it came time for auditions in February, I made myself sick worrying whether or not I’d make the cut. I cried with relief when I got the letter, and called Roman right away to give him the good news. He cheered so loudly that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. The next day there was an adorable stuffed teddy bear delivered to our front door by a florist with a “congratulations” balloon tied to its paw. The milk chocolate colored bear was soft, with eyes too big for its head, and just the right size to hug. I slept with it every night.

After that my heart ached so badly for Roman that I started to wonder if that’s what it felt like to be in love. I knew I loved him as a friend, because it wasn’t possible to cherish him any more, but I wasn’t sure if the fluttering in my stomach meant something deeper.

The idea of loving someone that way terrified me for so many reasons. Because of how I felt, Aunt Joey never said the words out loud, though her love showed in the way she bent over backwards to take care of me. I didn’t tell her much about Roman, and planned our calls around her shifts at the diner. It’s not that I was embarrassed or anything, I just didn’t want her asking questions.

“Settle down, half-pint,” Aunt Joey teased as she pulled into the camp’s grand driveway. “I’m going to have to pee if you keep bouncing around like that.”

I instantly settled, not wanting to give her an excuse to stay as I raked my eyes over the campers for any sign of Roman. The Jeep wasn’t even in park before I grabbed my “new” bag—something less embarrassing that I had bought from the thrift store with babysitting money—and kissed Aunt Joey on the cheek.

“See you in August!” I called out.

On my way to the front desk, I only recognized one girl who threw a general “hey” out my way, but I didn’t care. My heart was beating out of my chest knowing Roman would appear at any moment. After I got my cabin assignment from Beth, my counselor the prior year, I threw my bag next to a tree and watched the cars pulling in while I gnawed on my already short nails.