Bliss

sixteen

Our next stop is not so much a stop as an obligation. An obligation I thought we were exempt from. That is until our uber driver, Angelo pulls up. He rattles off the address of our villa through the open front passenger seat window before unlocking the doors and welcoming us in. I'm half tempted to refuse the ride, call my own uber and disappear at the beach in a huddle of strangers, but one look from Isaac and I clamber in behind him.

"Do we have to do this?" I ask as I yank my seatbelt across my chest. The frayed fabric slips from my grasp, and the metal clip smacks against my boobs, leaving an oddly shaped red splotch across my sweating skin.

"We promised," Issac says, a dribble of laughter escaping alongside his lie. It's better to ignore it. The laughter, I mean. I can only be mad at him for one thing at a time.

"No," I correct once I've clipped my seatbelt, "you promised."

"A promise is a promise, Lizzie, no matter who makes it. And it's only lunch. A few hours, and then we're free to do whatever we want."

"I don't think Elle is going to appreciate us turning up together."

"I don't think it's any of Elle's business."

"You made it Elle's business the moment you decided to flirt with her."

Isaac lets out a strangled groan. It hangs between us, swinging to and fro until the magic words slip past his lips. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know I fucked up a little with the whole Elle thing, and I know it'll be awkward, but it's our last day. Henry will never forgive us if we just don't turn up. And it's not like we're together anyway. Just two friends hanging out. Is there any harm in that?"

"If there is, I'm sure Elle will find it."

His hand slides across the soft grey seats, inching slowly towards mine. For a moment, my fingers uncurl, revealing my sweating palm. It's like time freezes, and all I can think about is the feeling of my hand in his. Then I remember the Elle of it all, and I jerk away.

Isaac simply sighs, presses his hands into his lap and turns his attention to Angelo. They strike up easy conversation filled with football jargon and dribbles of laughter, leaving me with little choice but to turn to the tinted windows.

Something about the way Isaac said friends makes me want to claw at his eyes. No, it makes me want to gouge them out with hooked fingers that curl around the gooey spheres until the twitching masses still in the palm of my hands.

And I know friendship is more than I deserve, but it also feels like a farce. A big fat lie force-fed down Elle's throat; mine too, now I'm thinking about it.

I also know that I agreed to it, to this—to taking things slow, to the training wheels that are as necessary as they're annoying, to the weight that grounds us in reality. But knowing this doesn't make it any easier to swallow. Especially when I'm going to have to sit through a meal with Essie, who surely thinks I lied about the state of mine and Isaac's relationship, and Elle, who hated my guts before she ever met them.

The journey back is somehow quicker, but then the universe is cruel like that. It's laughing at me, I'm certain of it, for why else would Angelo park in the empty driveway in record speed. He turns to face us, a luminous smile brightening his delicate features, and says goodbye. A quick jab about Arsenal is thrown in, and Isaac clutches at his chest with one hand while he elbows me with the other.

"No need to push," I hiss as I tumble out of the car.

His hands reach out to steady me, but I jump out of reach just as his fingers brush against my waist. I land awkwardly, and my ankle rolls until I dive face-first at the mismatched pieces of gravel.