Elaina Basset
With a final stroke of my paintbrush, my eyes went wide with glory. My lips pulled into a smile as it finally set in.
I'm done.
Standing out in the backyard of the villa, I drop the brush and look up to the sky with a smile on my face.
"Fuck yes." I mumble to myself as I take in a laugh of relief and happiness.
I'm done my painting. I finished it today. No more stress. A huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, knowing this task was complete and I could finally just breathe.
I know it's merely a small accomplishment, and I know there's more that I need to face—but right now...this is a moment of bliss. I've overcome something that has been like a boulder between my shoulder blades for too long. Now, that boulder can be taken off, and I can exhale. I'm going to let myself be proud of this.
I look back forward at my piece of art that I had been so stressed over. I bite my bottom lip as I smile, so satisfied with myself while I take my phone out and snap a picture of the work.
With everything going on, this was the obstacle that I had to climb in order to feel any sense of relaxation. I'll worry about everything else later.
For now, I get this victory.
The smile didn't leave my face as I put everything away in my shed, safely placing my painting in a secure spot out in the sun so it could dry completely before I had to make a copy of it to send in for the application.
My excited feet carry me back across the grass and into the villa, walking into the kitchen where the staircase was and bringing myself up the wooden stairs.
Today felt good...even with Harry and the guys still around. They leave tomorrow anyway. Things are finally being set right again.
Harry actually hasn't really tried to bother me since the whole jewelry store incident anyway. He's stayed out of my way and went back to ignoring my presence. It's fine with me, I like it better if I pretend he's not here so if he's doing the same, then it's perfect.
I get up to the second level of the villa, looking down at my feet and smiling as I head down the hall to my room.
I just need to share this news with someone—the fact that I had accomplished what had been weighing me down.
As I walk, I hear a voice that becomes louder as it leaves the guest room. I look up to see exactly what I suspected...
Harry had walked out of the room with his cellphone to his ear.
"You know it's a bad time. I don't even know why you'd think to call me." he speaks into the phone.
He doesn't sound happy...but then again, I don't think I've actually ever seen him happy.
He seems kind of angry.
He gives me a quick look as he keeps the phone to his ear, walking past me in his skinny black jeans and black shirt. I hear him walk down the rest of the hall and the wooden staircase which I just came up—but I don't bother to look back.
I get into my own room and shut the door, immediately pulling out my laptop as I sit cross legged on my bed.
I open up the video call application and scroll to Angela's name.
She's my best friend, I want to show her how I've overcome all of this stress.
I sit there, watching myself in the webcam as the application rings. It's ringing longer than usual—she usually picks up right away.
I let out a sigh as the call ultimately goes unanswered. It's no big deal, though. Maybe she's just asleep considering the time zone difference.
I close out of the video call window, opening up my email instead. I scroll down the list of emails I had to one of the previous messages from the program I was submitting my painting through.
'Milano Institution of Arts, Individual Artist Program.'
I select the address of the man I've been in contact with since I applied for the program, starting a new thread.
My fingers graze upon the keyboard, typing out the message that I have been waiting to send for quite some time now.
'Mr. Bianchi of the Milano Inst. of Arts,
I am pleased to submit my artwork for the IAP today. I'm very grateful for this opportunity and I thank you for accepting my application into the program. There's a photo of the work attached to this email, and there will be a physical copy of it sent to you by tomorrow evening. I hope to hear back from you soon!
Elaina Basset.'
I let out a sigh of relief as I hit send, allowing the email to fall into their hands now.
I run a hand through my messy hair, quietly smiling to myself over the mere idea of my work being displayed in the Rodin Museum in Paris. That's something that most artists can only dream of.
I would have my own little display, with my own name beneath my own artwork.
It would be the start of something huge.
I'd be so proud of myself. I'd have a reason for other people to be proud of me too.
That's all I've ever strived for, really...satisfying the people around me.
I hear a knock on my bedroom door, making me raise my eyesight from my laptop.
"Yeah?" I call out to the closed door.
"It's Zayn." the knocker responds.
"Oh," I mumble, "come in."
I watch with low eyes as my bedroom door opens. Zayn stands in the doorway with red floral shirt on, with some baggy denim jeans. He's freshly shaven, just leaving a little bit of cleanly cut facial hair along his chin and upper lip, and I can smell his cologne from here.
"I'm making lunch for everybody in a few...you want some?" he questions, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.
I scratch my eyebrow and hesitate. "Uh, yeah. Yeah sure. Thanks."
The atmosphere was so awkward, and it's never like this between Zayn and I but it's been so different with the guys here.
There's a moment of silence where Zayn just nods but stays in my doorway. I press my lips into an awkward smile while he just bites his cheek, his hands patting his thighs.
I look back down at my laptop, silently wishing for this awkwardness to just end. I hear Zayn clear his throat.
"Look," he says, finally breaking our silence. I look up as he steps into my room, closing my door to encase us both in here. "I'm really sorry about the way things have been."
I shake my head, immediately opposing his apology.
"Zayn it's fine—"
I'm cut off by his hand coming up, he holds it up as a signal for me to stop talking. "No, let me do this properly." he says before coming closer to my bed.
I watch him as he gets onto the mattress next to me, sitting with one leg outstretched and one knee up while one arm rested atop of that bent knee.
"I'm not meaning to be distant." he mumbles. "I just have a lot going on with these guys."
I look at his face as he speaks.
"You've been so great, and I know you've been handed way more than you bargained for. And with everything that happened to you, it's unfair that this got piled on top of that." he says.
I feel my heart warm a bit, because he was being so sincere.
"It's okay, Zayn, really. But thank you.." I give him a friendly smile.
"I just know how sensitive you are to some things...and how insensitive the guys are." Zayn adds.
"By 'the guys', you mean Harry." I acknowledge, watching Zayn's lips lift into a small smirk.
"He means well."
"Does he?" I squint and tilt my head.
He laughs under his breath, twisting a gold ring around his middle finger on his tatted hand. "My point is, I'm sorry." he looks at me and we make direct eye contact. "You deserve better."
I smile at him, appreciating how he went out of his way to come and set things straight with me. That's how it's supposed to be between Zayn and I.
"And I'm always here if you need me, you know that right?" his voice falls into seriousness, sincerity held in his brown eyes.
I nod slowly. "Of course I know that."
"I promised to take care of you when you came here to stay with me. I still intend on doing that." he says. I just look at him, only now processing how serious he was about this apology. "But I didn't that night at the bar...I let you get hurt." he glances at the white bandage on my forehead that covered my scar.
He feels guilt over me being drugged.
"Hey." I say, grabbing his thigh. "That wasn't your fault and it wasn't my fault either. It was a really unfortunate situation, sure...but don't blame yourself for that."
He looks at my hand on his thigh and then looks back up at my eyes.
"I should have kept a better eye on you."
"I don't need you to do that. But I'm not mad at you, okay? At all." I reassure him. I don't want him to feel any guilt over that, because it's really out of his control in the end.
He gives me a slow nod, pressing his lips together into a line in agreement.
"I'll make it up to you." he says.
I wanted to lift the atmosphere a bit, "Well you don't have to, look." I point at my laptop screen, directing Zayn's focus to the email written across my screen.
"What's this?" he questions.
"My official submission for my completed artwork." I smile as I say it, looking at his side profile to see his brows raise and his face lift in excitement.
"What! No way!" he says with joy, his lips lifting so his teeth showed when he smiled.
I laugh and enlarge the photo I took, showing him the finished product.
He admires it and turns to look at me, "I told you you could do it." he smiles, nudging my shoulder with his.
"Whatever." I teasingly roll my eyes.
"You know what." he says, getting off of my bed, "this calls for a celebration."
I furrow my brows, "Wha—"
"All of us, we're gonna celebrate tonight." he says with excitement.
I shake my head and try to protest. "Oh, Zayn, no—"
"Nope, you don't get a choice. We're gonna have some fun."
"I haven't even won the contest yet—"
"I don't care! Get your stomach full of food because we're getting wasted!" he cheers as he hurries out of my room in a fit of joy.
I let out a small laugh of disbelief, shaking my head as I close my laptop.
It's not ideal to party with the guys, but I'm not gonna let anything ruin my mood today. I'll make myself have fun for tonight, especially because we'll just be at the villa and not out at a bar.
I let myself relax for the first time in days, just laying on my bed and scrolling through my phone until I finally decided to get ready.
It's warmer than usual today, so I put on a pair of white denim shorts and a lavender cropped top, leaving my hair down in its natural state.
I felt good about tonight. Even though I'm only close with Zayn and I don't exactly get along with Harry, I'm still keeping my mind set on having a good time. I deserve it.
It's been a while since I actually let myself have fun.
Putting myself together in my bedroom, I hear my phone go off on my bed with a text. I look over my shoulder at the lit up device before grabbing it and looking down at my screen.
Isaac: 3:00 pm
Hey, can you call?
My chest tightens a bit when I read the name. I shouldn't have this reaction but I can't control it.
I bite my lip as my thumbs hover over the keyboard. I haven't talked to this person in a couple of weeks.
I blow a sigh out of my mouth and let my fingers tap the letters.
Elaina: 3:01 pm
I'm a little busy right now. What's up?
Yes, I was lying but I didn't have the capacity to speak with him or hear his voice right now. I know that this shouldn't be the way that I feel, especially towards him, but it's something I'm working on.
Another text comes through.
Isaac: 3:01 pm
I just miss you and wanted to call you before I went into work. Can you call later tonight?
I read the text with the inside of my cheek between my molars.
It's 7 am for him right now, and by the time he gets off of work I'll be drunk. Maybe then I'll be able to talk with him without any issues.
Everything's easier when you're drunk, isn't it?
Elaina: 3:02 pm
Sure. Call me when you get home tonight.
I send the text and leave it at that, not letting myself back pedal or object. He doesn't deserve to be ignored by me anyway, he's a good person.
I just wish that I was better.
I tuck my phone in my back pocket and head out of my room, walking down the hall and downstairs where everyone was gathered around the kitchen.
"Elainaaaaa!" I hear my name being drunkenly called out, then an arm around my shoulder. I quickly realize that it's Niall. "About time you got down here."
I glance around, seeing everyone scattered around the kitchen. Louis was leaning against the fridge with Liam standing with his back to me. They were doing something but I couldn't tell what. Zayn sat on the kitchen counter with a cup in his hand. Harry was sat at the kitchen table.
"You're drunk already?" I question Niall, glancing at the red solo cup full of something in his hand.
Niall glances down at the cup, shrugging.
"Just pre-gaming." he remarks. Then, his eyes look at the side of my face. I glance at him, watching his lips move into a smirking position. "You want some, Red?"
I give him a shrug in response. "Okay."
With his arm still around my shoulder, I can feel everyone looking at the two of us now. My eyes quickly dart to Harry, who was now watching Niall and I while casually chewing gum.
Am I missing something?
Niall brings the solo cup to my lips, tilting the cup up so that the liquid inside could run inside my mouth.
The second it hits my tongue, my face puckers up as I taste the incredibly strong liquid. I cover my mouth and pull away from Niall.
"Oh my god! Was that just straight vodka!" I widen my eyes as the taste overtakes my whole mouth.
I can hear laughter coming from Louis and Liam, while Niall is just smiling at me. Even Harry had a smirk on his face.
"Had to start you off strong." Niall says.
I see Zayn come up to me with another cup in his hand.
"Here, this is just apple juice. Get that taste out of your mouth." he says with a slight chuckle.
I accept the drink and swish it around my tongue—anything to get rid of that pure alcohol taste.
"You're gonna pay for that." I remark at Niall with a small laugh. I wasn't mad at all but I was just caught off guard.
"God, I hope so." Niall smiles.
"Hey Elaina," I hear my name once again, recognizing it as Liam's voice. I turn my attention toward him as he was still standing next to Louis. "Ever tried weed?"
"Liam..." Zayn warns.
"I haven't smoked it, no." I say timidly, wondering where this was going. I really don't want to smoke a joint in front of these guys just to have them make fun of me.
Liam smiles and walks up to me with his arm behind his back. "But you have tried it in some form, no? That's what you implied."
I furrow my brows as I look at him. "I mean...I guess so."
I've only ever tried it in an edible form. Once. And I don't remember any of it.
"Liam stop being weird." Harry suddenly remarks from his seat. "Picasso, do you want one of Liam's garbage-cookies?"
I arch my brow as I glance at Harry.
"They're weed cookies." he adds, speaking to me like that was an obvious fact.
"Yeah," Liam speaks, taking his hand out from behind his back to reveal a chocolate chip cookie in his palm. "And they're great."
"Don't flatter yourself." Harry says.
"Shut it." Liam glares before looking back to me. "So?"
"You don't have to, El. Especially if you'll be drinking." I feel Zayn's hand on my shoulder. I look from Liam's palm to Zayn's eyes, then I look at the rest of the guys.
"Did all of you have one?" I question, looking at all of their demeanor's.
They nod.
Well now if I don't have one, then I look like a buzzkill.
I look back at the cookie. "Okay." I state, making Liam's lips lift upwards.
"Great." he says, "only half, though. A full one will knock you out."
I nod nervously as he rips the cookie in half, handing me the smaller amount. With slight hesitation, I bite into the cookie.
My mouth became full with the driest cookie I've ever had...but I tried my best to keep a straight face, giving Liam a little nod of approval even though it felt like I had an entire desert in my mouth.
"Perfect, now we can actually get this party started." Niall remarks.
"Everyone needs to take a shot." Louis says, pouring some tequila into six solo cups and bringing them to the table.
We all gather around the round table, each of us picking up a cup. I look down at the liquid that was only filling the cup a little bit. I don't like tequila but I want to have fun tonight, so I'm considering this as my gateway. Plus, if I don't take the shot, I'm not letting myself fully let go. As I look down into the cup, I feel Harry come and stand next to me.
"Ready to get fucked up tonight, Picasso?" he murmurs with a smirk.
I look at him but I don't respond.
"Okay, in honor of Elaina completing her project." Zayn says from across the table, raising his cup as he smiles at me.
I give him a smile back and raise my cup as well.
Then we drink.
When you're drinking, there comes a time where you cross the line between being aware that you're tipsy but you still have some self control...and between where you're just doing the first things that come to mind, not thinking about the consequences.
Right now, I am just straddling that line.
I drank too much...and the edible has kicked in.
The good thing is that everyone else is drunk too. We're all outside now, I'm not entirely sure how we all made it out here but it just sort of happened.
I'm actually having a good time.
I'm sitting on the patio with all of the guys. They're all talking amongst themselves while I look out onto the green yard.
The sun had just begun to set, casting an orange tint across the sky.
With my knees tucked to my chest as I sit on the wood, I suddenly see cup held in front of my face, making me look up.
Niall stood above me, holding another red plastic cup.
"Down for another shot?" he asks me.
What's the harm?
I smile and grab the cup, feeling much less uptight and finding it easier to communicate with everyone.
"Sure." I say through my slurred voice as I reach for the cup.
He comes to sit down next to me, his knees up with his arm resting over it. He brings his cup to mine, clanking the plastic together before we both took the shot.
This shot went down so easily, which indicated that I was too drunk.
"Impressive." Niall chuckles from my side. I hum through a smile, gazing out into the sunset.
"I'm gonna be fucked tomorrow." I mumble through my drunkness, already sensing the hangover I was gonna have.
"That's how you know you had fun." Niall says in return.
Weird logic, but alright.
"Niall." I hear a voice from behind us, making both Niall and I turn to look over our shoulders. Harry stood just a couple feet away, a pack of cigarettes in his hand.
"Come have a smoke with me." he says.
Niall agrees right away, pushing himself up with his knees as I remain sitting. I look down at my cup, watching Harry and Niall walk past me through my peripheral vision.
"Coming, Red?" Niall turns to ask me, causing me to flick my eyes up.
I glance at Harry, who just seemed apathetic, tossing the pack of smokes up and catching them in his palm.
In a weird spurt of willingness, I stand up and start to follow the two of them out onto the grassy field. I don't know why I did it but I think I felt good about it.
It's definitely the alcohol.
The three of us walk across the field to the side of the villa, where we were now standing on concrete by the bricked up building.
"I didn't know you smoke." Niall remarks as Harry pulls out a cigarette for him.
I let out a little laugh of disbelief over the fact that I was really over here. "I don't. I'm just bored."
Niall nods as he puts the stick between his teeth. Harry does the same, lighting his before handing the lighter off to Niall.
I'm instantly met with the smell of cigarette smoke, clouds of it rising up into the air from their lips.
I cross my arms, looking between the two of them smoking.
Niall holds the stick between his index and middle finger, like they do in the movies. He blows the smoke out through the left side of his mouth.
Harry allows the cigarette to hang from his lips, but when he does grab it, he uses his thumb and index finger. He blows the smoke straight out of his mouth while tilting his head back, usually shutting his eyes as he exhales.
As Harry opens his eyes, we make eye contact. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he looks at me.
"You want some?" he says with sarcasm, knowing for himself that I can't even take a full inhale.
But his tone just makes me want to spite him—and for some reason, I love to spite Harry.
I tilt my head and give him a little smile. I need to stay confident with this.
I bring my hand up, using my thumb and index finger to grab onto the cigarette in his mouth. I take it out, watching his bottom lip pull a bit.
I bring the stick to my own lips, putting it between them as I keep eye contact with Harry's green irises.
Confidence, Elaina.
I puff my chest, inhaling a little amount. I felt that same burn from behind the bar that night. It filled my chest like fire.
I really don't see how people enjoy doing this.
I don't let the feeling affect me visually, shutting my eyes briefly as I took the cigarette out from between my lips and formed my lips into an 'O' shape. I let the remaining smoke blow out of my mouth, entering the atmosphere.
When I open my eyes, I see both Harry and Niall staring at me.
Harry's brows are raised, surprised that I really did it.
I clear my throat, reaching out with the cigarette in my hand for Harry to grab.
"Thanks." I mumble.
Harry's lips slowly lift at the corner into the slightest smirk as he puts the cigarette back between his lips, his eyes trailing up and down my body momentarily.
This was the first time he's ever smiled at me without it being at the expense of my feelings.
"Looks like you've got it down." Niall says with the cigarette between his fingers.
"Guess so." I shrug.
"I need to take a piss. Have fun." Niall admits, making me blink and shake my head at his words, watching him walk away and leaving Harry and I alone.
I would be uncomfortable standing here with just Harry, except we're both drunk now. It makes for a lighter atmosphere.
Harry takes another drag from his cigarette, leaning his head against the brick wall as I stood before him. He kept his eyes open this time, looking down at me from his taller height.
"You're full of surprises." he murmurs through the smoke leaving his mouth.
"Because I took a singular hit off of a cigarette?" I arch my brow.
"And you've been taking shots all night like it's nothing while being high off of an edible." he remarks, "You're like 4 feet tall, how are you still standing?"
I'm 5'3 at least, but thanks.
"I'm just having fun." I say.
"I don't think I've seen you have fun since I've been here." he says with a small exhale of a laugh.
I feel the cool air of the night blow through my hair. I look down at my dirtied white sneakers, smelling Harry's cigarette smoke.
"You haven't known me long enough, then. I'm very fun." I say in a lighthearted tone—a way I've never pictured myself talking to Harry.
Lighthearted. It was weird, because I don't feel any sort of light for him in my heart.
It's the alcohol. Like I said.
"I'm sure." he states with sarcasm, inhaling another puff of smoke.
I look to the side, out onto the grassy yard again. The sun is almost completely set and I can feel my limbs growing tired from the alcohol in my blood.
I'm tired of standing, and that grass looks so cold in contrast to the air.
I found myself walking off the concrete slab, going out onto the very green grass. I stand there in the centre of the field for a moment, before allowing myself to lie down.
I feel the grass blades absorbing my body, almost as if I was sinking into it. My hair sprawls across the ground and the uncovered skin on my arms and legs can feel the coolness of the ground.
This feels good.
"What are you doing?" I hear Harry's voice from just a few meters away. He followed me.
"I'm laying down on the grass." I say in return, shutting my eyes to just let myself be engulfed by this feeling.
Relaxation. Serenity.
"Okay, but why?" Harry questions, trying to keep that annoyed tone in his voice like he always does.
"Because it feels good."
I can feel the presence of two feet by my head, making my peel my eyes open to see Harry standing above me and looking down at me laying here.
"I think you're too drunk." he says.
"I'm just resting." I mumble.
He was right, unfortunately. I was too drunk...but I won't admit that.
"You're gonna rest outside?" he questions with his cigarette back in his mouth.
"Yes. Yes I am." I nod, shutting my eyes again. "You should try it. It's nice."
"No."
"Your loss then."
"Picasso, come inside. You're embarrassing yourself." Harry says while keeping his position above me.
I shake my head, my eyes still closed.
"Everyone else is inside." he tells me.
"That's nice."
"Jesus christ." he grumbles under his breath. "Fine. Enjoy...whatever this is." he says and I hear him walk off, leaving me alone out here on the grass.
I take in an inhale through my nostrils, letting my body relax. I haven't relaxed in a while.
I know I should probably get up and get myself into a bed instead of the ground outside...but I just feel so at peace in this moment.
Things are finally looking up. After so much pain and turmoil, things might finally be getting better for me. Maybe this is what turning over a new leaf feels like.
Maybe this is that push—that change—I need so badly.
A few moments pass by with my resting on the grass until I hear feet approaching me again. I open one eye to peek at who was coming, and then I see Zayn.
He comes right over to me and lays down next to me, something I wasn't expecting him to do.
He lays at head level with me, hands over his stomach as he turns his head to look at me.
"Are you planning on coming inside?" he chuckles a bit.
I let a smile lift my cheeks. "In a little."
"How do you feel?"
"So drunk."
He laughs and I do the same.
"I meant how do you feel about tonight?" he clarifies.
I fully open my tired eyes and turn my head on the grass to meet his gaze.
"Sooo good." I smile with my teeth.
Zayn smiles back.
"You're happy with yourself?" he says in his low voice.
I bite my lip and nod. "Yeah. I think I am."
I'm never quite sure how to answer questions about happiness. I just know that I feel good right now.
"That's good. You deserve to feel that." Zayn says.
I grin at his words, feeling a warmth in my chest.
"Thank you, Zayn...really." I say in seriousness. "You're a great guy."
I watch as his lush lips quirk into a smile, running his tongue across his bottom lip while his brown eyes gleamed.
Zayn was the first person I met in Italy. He immediately made it feel like a comfortable space and that's exactly why I came here to stay with him. He accepted me with open arms and he's been so helpful. I really am lucky to have someone like him.
One thing we never discussed out loud though, is what could sometimes come with two people living together—two people who are new to love and all of its qualities.
I care about Zayn. I'd go to great lengths to make him happy.
Right now, though...things feel different.
I don't feel different, but the tone does.
Because Zayn's chocolate eyes have drifted down to my own pink lips. His eyelids have grown heavy and his lips have parted.
His head moves closer, and for some reason I can feel mine drift as well.
I can feel his breath because of how close we were. His cologne lingered around us. In a brief moment, I feel his hand come up to cup my cheek. My breath hitches as his thumb strokes my cheekbone.
"I'm really drunk." he murmurs very quietly.
I nod. "I am too."
He licks his lips, having an internal struggle with himself over whether he should just lean in or not. His eyes hold hesitation.
I need to stop this.
"Zayn," I whisper, his eyes snapping to mine. "You know we can't..."
His eyes fall, his thumb giving my cheekbone a final stroke before pulling his hand away as he nods.
"Yeah. I'm sorry." he shakes his head. "You're right."
He lays flat on his back again, rubbing his drunken eyes.
"I shouldn't have—"
"It's okay." I murmur.
After a few more moments of laying in this newfound awkward silence, I decide to initiate the end of the night.
"I'm gonna go to bed, I think." I tell him, slowly getting up so I didn't fall over. I was really dizzy.
He clears his throat, sitting up and grabbing my hand to assist me. "Yeah, I should too. I have an early day tomorrow."
We stand up and I brush myself off, fixing my hair by putting it behind my ear before I give Zayn a short smile and walk off.
I'm praying that I won't remember this tomorrow. I don't want things to be weird between us, especially because I care about him so much.
I hurry up to my room, closing the door behind me and letting out an exhale.
I shut my eyes, feeling my body and mind spin. The alcohol is making it harder to stand up straight.
As I take a few stumbling steps toward my bed, I suddenly feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.
I lift my back to reach into the pocket, pulling out my phone to look at the screen.
'Isaac is calling...'
Oh fuck.
I forgot about this.
I can't just ignore it, especially because I told him I'd answer.
With hesitation, I press accept, holding the phone to my ear as I lay down.
"Hello?"
"Hey! I'm on my break right now. What are you doing?"
"I'm in bed. I drank a little." I murmur as I rub my eye.
There's a pause from the other end of the phone before he speaks again.
"Are you being safe?"
"Of course. I'm with my roommate, we're all good."
Isaac doesn't know who my roommate is.
"Okay," he hesitates. "just don't be stupid."
Wanting to change the subject, I immediately bring up the reason I got drunk in the first place.
"I finished my painting." I tell him.
"What!" he exclaims from the other end. "That's incredible, Elaina."
I softly smile to myself at the praise. It felt good to hear the genuine proudness in his voice that was directed towards me.
"I'm submitting the physical copy tomorrow. I can't believe I finally got it done." I let out a small laugh of relief and pride.
"You should uh..." he pauses with hesitation. "I don't know...maybe you should come here to celebrate."
I feel my chest tighten a bit as my throat runs dry.
"T-to Denver?" I question, hoping my assumption was incorrect.
"Just for a day or two...we can stay at my apartment."
I swallow as I run a stressed hand through my hair, not knowing how to respond. I left Denver for a reason...I'm trying to avoid going back.
"El, I know what happened to you was awful, okay? But I really miss you." he says. "I'd really love to see you. Don't you miss me back?"
I bite my lip as I shut my eyes, trying to contain the sigh of regret I let out.
"I do miss you..." I say quietly into the phone. "You just have to know how hard this is for me."
"Of course I know. I watched you go through the trauma, Elaina. I'll pay for your plane ticket, you can stay at my place. We can try and get back to normal."
Normalcy. Something I haven't had in a while.
"Elaina, I love you. Please."
I don't know what it is about those three words that scare me so much. They make me want to run and hide. But he doesn't deserve that. He's so good, and I need to at least try to do the same.
With hesitation and my heart in my throat, I take a deep breath.
"Okay." I say, "I'll come to Denver."
I can basically hear Isaac's smile on the other end of the phone.
"Great. That's great. I'll call you tomorrow and we can arrange everything. I promise you won't regret it." he says.
We say our goodbyes and I throw my phone down, taking a distressed inhale through my mouth. Not even the copious amount of alcoholic my bloodstream could cure my feelings right now.
I know that the very least I can do is try. That's what Isaac deserves, but Denver is such a touchy subject for me, and the idea of being back there is so scary.
But...I'll try.
If it makes others happy...I'll try.
//
i know things are moving sort of slow but this is merely the introduction of the story still. we have lots more to come !
happy pride month! i love you all and you're all so valid no matter what you identify as. i hope you're all doing well.
i love you lots <3 :)