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Isabelle Barlowe grew up watching her parents fall out of love. For about a year or so, when she was too young to comprehend why daddy yelled at mommy or why daddy slept out on the couch, she liked to pretend that her parents were the perfect love story. Of course, it wasn't much pretending, as it was her innocence doing her a favor. But there was only so far that innocence could take her, and by the time she was six, she had convinced herself that love was lethal. The way she saw love take its toll on her parents was the way she perceived it in society; after all, in Isabelle's eyes, human beings were too selfish, too conniving, and narcissistic to ever truly love someone.
So she put up her defenses, shielded herself from the hazards of falling in love. It didn't matter how often her parents each swore their love to her, she didn't believe them, didn't matter how people tried to befriend her, she turned them away, and the various boys with feelings for in her time in high school, any measures they took with her were all lost causes. She had formed in herself a heart of stone, a heart oriented to never feel an attachment to any person, no matter their inferred intentions.
The first time that her heart faltered to heed its command was when Isabelle met Christian Thatcher. There was just something so comforting in his blindingly bright smile, something so far from greed in his chocolate brown eyes, and for a moment, her guard completely dropped away.
It took a while, and by a while, I mean a year, of Christian slipping into the seat next to hers during lunch, buddying up with her in class, and trying desperately for even one meager conversation with her, before she decided that maybe, just maybe, they could be friends. Friends wouldn't harm anybody? Right?
Well, that friendship survived six months before he asked her out and she shot him down. This process reprised itself, over and over for a month before she finally relented. It was just one date, after all, it's not like she was signing a marriage contract.
One date turned to two, then three, then four, and before she knew it, he was asking her to prom, and she was saying yes.
Prom came and went in a moment's time, then graduation, and soon enough it was the end of August, and they were both standing outside the airport, Christian holding in his hand the handle to his suitcase and his acceptance letter to Harvard.
Hugs were shared as well as slow, wishful kisses and the guarantee of a facetime call every night after dinner; before they knew it, their final minute together was up.
As Isabelle watched, Christian began to walk away, toward the door and temporarily out of her life. It was then that she began to wonder what the painful aching in her stunted heart was. Her eyes widened, her heartbeat picking up as she realized what she was about to seriously regret not saying.
"Chris! Chris, wait!" Her feet took her forward as her boyfriend spun around, his eyes landing on her form.
Her lips curved up in a sad smile.
"I...I love you."
ns 15.158.61.8da2
