Mint [H.S.]

24

"Right," I stand up, wiping my hands against my jeans. "Uh - where... where's the broom?"

"The closet," she motions towards a far off door with her head. Her hands still remained folded against her chest, as if to protect herself from me. I don't say anything to her or even look her way as I maneuver myself over the few broken shards of glass.

As I sweep the pieces away, Isabella remains where she is. I glance up to look at her. Her eyes are focused ahead, brows furrowed in deep thought. Her arms are still folded against her chest. Pieces of hair are fall out of her messy bun, and she looks beautiful.

Pretty girl that one.

When the glass is swept away and put into a separate bag, I put the broom back. I walk back to where the coffee pot sits, and pour ourselves two glasses. I was never one for coffee - always preferred a cuppa, but I knew that she wasn't partial to the British way.

She watches me, her eyes narrowed slightly, as I maneuver my way over to the living room. I can feel her eyes on my back but I don't say anything to her. My heart is hammering against my chest. Thoughts are going a mile a minute... I thought I had a bit more time to get everything in order, but nothing ever goes my way. I've come to terms with that.

"Where's Jaz?"

Her voice breaks me from my tormented thoughts. Isabella walks over to where I am but sits on the opposite couch. She doesn't take the mug of coffee even when I offer it to her. Her hands remain folded against her lap, eyes watching me, a stoic expression remaining against her tired features. God, she looked so, so tired.

I coughed. "She stayed at Ben's last night."

Isabella nodded. "Right..." She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing nervously against it. I watch as she fiddles with her hands in her lap. The coffee mugs remain on the table untouched; neither one of us going in to grab one.

I felt nervous. My heart felt like it was aching against my chest. I've felt nervous before but nothing could compare to the feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was an underlying feeling of panic that was subtle enough to throw my mind into a frenzy.

Will she kick me out? Will she yell at me? Blame me for everything that happened? It was my fault after all. I didn't deserve to even be here right now... my insecurities were screaming at me but I had to turn it down. I hated every bit of myself for everything that I did. I don't think I would ever stop hating myself. I screwed up, that I know. I didn't even deserve to be here... but I was.

"Izzy..." my voice cracked before I could even finish her name.

She is shaking her head. "Don't..."

"No," I interrupt her... because I had to talk. We had to talk. I refused to leave this place until we do. "Everything that happened that night... it wasn't-"

"Stop," her voice cracked. She is avoiding my stare but I can see the tears forming in her eyes. Her hands are in her lap, but judging by how white her knuckles are turning, I knew she was doing her best to not get too worked up. "I don't want to hear it. Just - go. Please. Go."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not leaving here until you listen to what I have to say."

Standing up from my spot on the couch, I move to where she sits. Instantly she shuffles to the end of the loveseat, away from my body. I kneeled in front of her. My hands hold on to her tight fists. She tries her best to escape me but I don't allow it. She's stubborn but I already knew that. I was already expecting this...

"Please," she pleads. "I can't hear this. It hurts too much. Seeing you hurts too much."

"Let me explain. I have to..."