Something About You

Isla's POV - May, 2015

Isla gives it three weeks.

She tells herself that it's only fair, that she can't just throw a year and a half long relationship out the window because of one phone call from her ex. She tells herself that the goal of this is not to get back with Niall, or to be single for whenever he comes around again—the goal of it is to be fair to Jack, to not waste his time when she's nowhere near as committed as she once was. She owes him that, at the very least.

But she knows, less than a week in, that the decision she's working herself up to is the right one.

And when the time comes, she can't do it fast enough.

First, Isla Googles it. The thought of doing just about anything, but especially something this risky and testy, without proper research makes her skin itch like she's breaking out in hives, so she arms herself the best way she knows how: with knowledge, research, and slightly detached critical thinking. She hunches over her phone on the tube on a Tuesday morning after looking up "how to break up with live-in boyfriend," paranoid that someone she knows is randomly going to walk into their car and catch a glimpse of her phone. She takes mental notes as she reads, preparing herself for every possible scenario, every potential twist and turn.

Then, Isla gets her things in order: she tells Mia what she's doing and makes sure she can sleep at her's for a few days to give Jack time to move out. She packs a few bags while he's at the gym, brings them round to Mia's for safekeeping, and she finishes all her readings for class ahead of time, so she won't have to worry about those either. She writes a draft of the things she wants to say to Jack during her lunch break, sitting in a Pret around the corner from King's College, and then she reads it over so many times that she can recite it backwards, forwards, upside down, and, if she tries really hard, in French. She prepares herself so intensely that she feels, when she's sitting across from Jack at the kitchen table on Saturday morning, she kind of feels like she's already done this.

'Everything alright?' Jack asks, placing a warm mug of tea in front of Isla. She'd told him she wanted to talk and he'd made them both tea, like he always does before settling down with a task. He's made Isla's perfectly, of course, just the way she likes it, and taking a sip of it makes her eyes sting a little with preemptive tears.

'Sort of,' Isla wraps her hands around the mug. It's scalding, but she likes it. It's a distraction, helps her focus on something other than how unpleasant the task at hand is. 'Jack, I—I don't think this is working.'

'What?' Jack looks around the kitchen instinctively, searching for a broken light, or a busted electronic. 'What's broken?'

'No,' Isla takes a deep breath. She can do this. She's prepared. 'Nothing's broken, sorry, I meant this. Us.'

She watches it dawn on Jack slowly. It's confusion, first, and she can't blame him—she wouldn't have expected this either, if she were him. But she can see the moment when it clicks for him, when he understands what she's actually saying. What she's actually doing.

'Us,' Jack says, pressing his lips together. 'Okay. What's not working?'

'I guess it's less us,' says Isla, watching the steam from her mug curl in the air, 'and more me. Not to be cliche, but this isn't really about you. It's not your fault or anything like that. It's me. I'm the one who's changed.'

'I don't feel like you've changed,' Jack's quiet, and when Isla meets his eyes he looks sad, a little lost. 'I still feel like you're Isla.'

'Yeah,' Isla nods. 'I am. I'm just, like, not your Isla anymore.'

'So you're breaking up with me, then?'

'I am,' Isla says it confidently, so she can't turn back. 'Yes. I'm sorry.'