[Currently being rewritten and updated chapter by chapter]
Book One in the "Hard Love" series.
It's hard being knocked down. And it's even harder getting back up.
Thalia Carter grew up on the south side of Chicago with a dead-beat dad and never real...
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"I don't want anyone else."
"I'll wait as long as I need to."
"So whenever you decide to stop punishing yourself and let yourself be happy, I'll be here."
My conversation with Isaac has been playing on an endless loop in my mind, keeping sleep far out of reach.
The rest of the night had gone fine. Better than fine, even. Some would even say magical. We returned to that terrible basketball booth and collected a small red teddy after Isaac nailed the remaining shot that he insisted I keep. The old man behind the counter smirked at us the entire time, as if he knew what we'd gotten up to.
I doubt it. He probably thinks we're just two teenagers that can't keep our hands off each other, but if that were the case then I'd be a whole lot less frustrated.
Fallon ate her weight in sugary fair food. Zoe and Nate got caught making out in the funhouse full of wacky mirrors and trippy strobe lights prone to inducing epileptic episodes. Oliver dipped out early to meet a girl, which Fallon didn't seem to like much. Isaac and I went on the ferris wheel together, making meaningless small talk and snapping a dozen adorable selfies that made their way to my Insta.
I ended up having to turn my comments section off. Too many people from Chicago asking too many questions.
I know I can't keep my past a secret forever. I've decided I'll tell Isaac when I'm ready. But that day isn't today, and he doesn't need to find out by a bunch of strangers commenting on my Instagram asking how I'm doing after the murder of my boyfriend.
My fingers brush my bedside table, aimlessly searching for my phone. The bright glow when it clicks on nearly blinds me, forcing my eyes shut.
When I open them again, I groan at the time staring back at me.
3:07 am
Great. Fallon dropped me off around eleven, and since then I haven't felt a wink of sleep coming on.
I'm too wired. My bloodstream is coursing with untapped energy–the kind you get at an amazing party or a one of a kind date, when you never want the night to end. Where you could stay up for hours, talking and laughing and dancing...
I had one of those nights tonight. After talking with Isaac, everything was... perfect. So perfectly mundane, drama-free, and happy. It's a night I'll never forget.
After lowering my brightness substantially, I scroll through my phone, tiring of my social media feeds quickly. I switch to texts, operating on autopilot. When my thumb brushes Isaac's name, I stop. Why did I stop?
I click the thread.
The last time we talked was to confirm a tutoring session earlier this week. It was incredibly dry, mainly because I was still in Avoid Isaac Mode.
