After a few minutes of radio silence, I begin to give up on hearing from her at all. Just as I toss the phone down onto the bed and prepare to get up, it goes off again and it takes everything in me not to dive back on the bed and grab it.
Man, can I be more of a girl right now?
I smile when I see her response on the screen. It’s not a song I have, but it’s one that I can most definitely get if that’s what it takes.
“A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds To Mars
Before I can type her back a response, the generic ringtone goes off and I’m met with another message from her. It occurs to me as I read it over, that this might be the best thing I ever did. As okay as I am with the notebook, having her able to text me this way is even better. From now on this might be the way I need to go.
At least until I can get her to actually open up and speak to me.
Thank you for today Kayden.
I wish she had half a clue what seeing that happy face does for me. I can’t quite explain it to myself, but I really wish she could know. It’s like when she does it, it’s all I can see and I want more of it, especially after the day we’ve had. I always want her making happy faces.
Even if wanting that makes me sound like a total pussy.
She doesn’t have to thank me for what happened, but it’s nice that she does. When she walked away from me this morning, I thought for sure I wouldn’t get the chance to make things right with her. As horrible as what happened is, it did give me the chance to do the right thing, something I’m not the most familiar with, but I just have to do with her.
Isabelle deserves the right thing, even if the right thing isn’t me.
Ur welcome.
I pause before sending the text, not sure I like it the way it is. I want to say more, but I don’t have a clue what more there is to say. I just know I don’t want this to end. I like the way I feel, the way I am when she’s talking to me, whether it’s in text or writing in her notebook the way she does. I don’t feel like such a fuck up.
Knowing exactly what I want to text now that I’ve thought it through, I type it all out and hit send before I have the chance to regret it and erase it. This time though, I’m not going to stick around and wait for the response. No, I’m going to walk away and deal with the fallout with Dean. If I stay here waiting for a response and none comes, I’m not sure I’m going to want to step foot out of my room again, that’s how much her and the silly emotes have gotten to me.
Holy shit.
I’m falling for Isabelle.
Chapter Eleven
Belle
Ur welcome. Can I drive u to school tomorrow?
It’s been a week since he sent that text to me and I still haven’t deleted it off my phone. I don’t know why I kept it or even why seeing it a week later still makes me so happy, it just does. He’s sent me the same text every single night for the last week, asking if he can take me to school, yet I don’t save any of the other ones.
Only this one.
The day after Amy and her friends hurt me, I didn’t go to school. I talked to my mom, told her everything, she bandaged the spot where they placed the cigarette to my arm and called the school board about it. Even after she took care of it, I still didn’t feel strong enough to go back.
The day after, I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Since my mom called the board, Amy, Charlotte and Eve had been suspended and even though he helped me, they were still his friends. It didn’t help that I texted him the night before, telling him that he couldn’t drive me because I wasn’t going. I did it so he wouldn’t feel burdened, but there he was the minute the bus pulled up, wearing the same smile he had the day at his house before everything went crazy.
Not only did he walk me to Ms. Taylor’s class that day and every other one after, but he was also there waiting for me when it ended, taking me outside to the tree and sitting under it with me. I’m pretty sure he hated every second of it, with the looks and laughs we got, but he didn’t ever make a move to leave.
It hasn’t been easy for me coming back. I still hear the whispers in the hall even though Kayden does his best to shield me from it. I see the way people look at us, wondering what the hell he’s doing with the school retard. By the end of the week I’m waiting for him to crack, give up on what he’s been doing, but he never does.
The way he is only makes me want to talk to him more. Not texting the way we have been, but actual talking. I want to be able to open my mouth and have words come out, the way I did in the bathroom, but no matter how hard I try, I’m still not there yet. He seems to understand because he doesn’t push me. He just points to the phone and smiles.