The Last 30 Days [Inactive]

"Sure thing, see ya." Isabelle waited for a response before hanging up. She took a moment to add Blake to her contacts, before realizing she didn't even know his last name. Later she would try to remember to ask.


Class went by, half of the words went in one ear and out the other. Something about wealth here, another comment about supply and demand there, every few minutes Isabelle slyly looked at the clock in the corner of her eye. When the instructor ended class she all but bolted from her seat and paced down the hallway, again fumbling for her phone.


She dialed Blake and continued to pace.


Should I be so excited? I don't know, but I am. I can't wait. I really want to see Blake again.
 
Blake was sitting at the coffee shop again, reading a book on theorems when his phone started faintly buzzing and the Old Spice whistle played softly. His hand shot to his pocket and he answered it, already smiling.


"Hi," he said quietly, breathing slowly to keep his heartbeat regular. "How was class?"
 
"It was alright. Everything takes a little longer to process. So, times, right? Did you want to be early, I can be ready whenever." Isabelle tried to sound casual. For her, this was exciting. She didn't have to focus on doctors, headaches, or her upcoming surgery. She could laugh, she could be happy not having to worry about the tumor in her brain.


"I forgot to ask, where is it?"
 
Blake took a sip of his coffee, leaning back in the chair like he had yesterday. "It's at a friend of mine's house. They live maybe fifteen minutes away, near the city's rec hall. We can drive there, and if you wanted we could hang at my house, have something to eat, an hour before. Or sooner, you know, sooner is really cool too." He was fairly certain that there was a hint of begging in his voice when he said sooner.
 
"I have to go home, maybe change, I'll have to let my Aunt know before I go. Otherwise she'll worry."


There was a slight hint of begging in his voice. It didn't sound whiny, just like Blake was equally excited to see Isabelle as she was to see him. Her heart was pounding in her chest again.


"I can be ready by, say, four, maybe five." Isabelle picked a number in her head. She could be ready anytime, but, this seemed reasonable, especially for dinner. "Unless you think that's too early. I don't want to leave too much time, just in case, sooner is good. Yeah?"
 
"That's fine," he said, checking the time. Only a few hours. He could grab some lunch in the meantime, maybe get some books from the library. "Alright, so four o'clock, do you want me to pick you up at your house?"


Blake's mind wandered while waiting for an answer and he found himself imagining the night in great deal. If a moment didn't seem perfect, he quickly replayed it, changing whatever aspect he didn't like. What brought him back to reality was the burn of coffee, spilling on his chest. "Isabelle, I just thought you should know that I just spilt coffee on myself," he said with a small chuckle.
 
"My house if you can, that would be great." Isabelle laughed at his next statement. "You're really, really good at spilling coffee on yourself."


Already, she racked her closet with her mind. There was a nice top hidden somewhere, but jeans sounded like they would work. Suddenly Isabelle was more worried about her clothes than her class. She wouldn't have to dress up, but, should she?


Isabelle bit her lip. "I'll be ready at four, so, I'll see you then?"
 
"Hey now, each time I spilled coffee it was because I was near or talking to you," he said, smirking slightly. "Okay, I will definitely see you at four."


((S0rry lame answer I don't know what to write))
 
((Don't worry, I was running out of things too, time skipping, here we go))


It was barely ten minutes before four o'clock. Isabelle sat impatiently on a stool in her kitchen, drumming her fingers along the counter. She decided on wearing a longer light green shirt with lace covering most of the back, hoping it would be enough.


"If you aren't coming back, make sure you call me alright?" Judith ordered sternly.


"I'll try." Isabelle thought she heard a knock on the door, so she jolted up and walked to the door to open it.
 
Blake was waiting at the door, staring at his shoes and he looked up when the door opened with a slight squeak. His eyes skirted the inside of the house noticing the decor and the colours, and then finally, saving the best for last, his eyes fell on Isabelle.


"Ready?" he asked, stepping away from the door to give her more room.
 
"Yeah, I'm yours." Isabelle flashed a smile before heading out, following Blake. "Where are we headed then? Dinner?
 
"I like the sound of that," he said honestly, hopping down the steps. "I was thinking we could just eat at my place, I can whip something up and show you around the place. Who knows, I might even play you some cello," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking next to his new favourite friend.
 
"Oh, would you?" Isabelle turned and lightly held on to Blake's shoulder. "I think you should. I would love to hear."


She turned back and brushed a stray strand over hair out of her face, sliding it back behind her ear. The two walked together past the coffee shop and towards the apartment. Every step drove Isabelle mad with anticipation. Had she known just yesterday someone could make her feel so good, she might not have believed it.
 
He looked down at her hand on his shoulder, then looked back up and smiled. It wasn't long before they got to the small flat-like appartement and they climbed the steep stairs towards the black door.


The outside of the house was made of old stone, giving it a unique look. The inside had brand new wood flooring, dark beige walls and other earthy tones. When you first entered into the foyer, there was a closet to your right and a wall with a big peak-a-boo hole in it that showed the kitchen. If you went straight there was an office, and right outside the office to the right there were two stairs leading down into the living room. The dining room (on the left side of the office) was across from the kitchen, and between them was a hallway leading down to the two bedrooms on either side and a bathroom all the way to the back which was also connected to the two bedrooms.


They entered, and Blake took of his shoes, waiting for Isabelle to do the same. He hated getting the house dirty (apart from study clutter of course)
 
Isabelle took her shoes off while slowly taking in her surroundings. The apartment looked much nicer than even her own home. As soon as she had her shoes off, she slowly stepped towards the kitchen, looking in through the peak-a-boo. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and started to absentmindedly play with the ends.


"This is amazing, really." She commented. Isabelle turned around, leaning against the wall, as she took in the rest of the apartment from her position. It was so neat and tidy, something she wouldn't have suspected from their first meeting. Books were scattered across the table at the coffee shop, but here, Isabelle swore the floors shined.


"I can't believe you live here by yourself, and you can afford it." Isabelle continued, she turned back to Blake and smiled, her eyes quickly darting down to the floor. Something about being around him again made her face hot, and blush red.
 
Blake looked around, try to find what she thought was so amazing. After a moment of searching his mind came up empty, so he shrugged. "It was recently renovated, so now the design is a lot cooler. The price went up because of that, but I get lots of money from tutoring other students, and well," he paused, slightly embarrassed, "my parents are pretty wealthy and surprisingly they still give me money."


He smiled, walking further into the house, down the two steps that lead the to living room. He put his bag on the floor near the couch. The furniture was black, the couches from afar looked like they might be leather, but up close they were a soft fabric. There was a pile of six books with library plastic stuck to the covers. "Oh, I forgot I went to the library," he mumbled to himself, picking the books up.


"I'll show you around," said Blake, taking Isabelle's hand so he could bring her through each one of the rooms. The office was the only cluttered room. The bookshelves lining the room were all full so other little piles of books were scattered around. "Oh, you probably don't want to see a mess like this. I spend most of my time in here," he explaining, then chuckled, setting down the arm full of books and picking up the blanket, slung across the desk chair. "I also fall asleep quit often here."
 
"I'm just a little jealous," Isabelle admitted. What he thought was ordinary, she thought was incredible. "You get to be so independent, and your parents help, that's great of them. I always have to be watched nowadays. Anything could happen, seizures, migraines, loss of motor skills. I'll never be left alone."


Her own parents were not as kind. In light of her tumor, her mother went over the edge, and her father was torn between mother and child. Isabelle hadn't spoken to either of them since she left.


Blake took her hand, pulling her through to see the rooms, and out of her thoughts. She curled her fingers tight around him.


Finally, they had stopped in the office, where there were so many books, Isabelle didn't know where to start looking. She hesitantly let go of Blake's hand to step closer to see the titles.


"Don't worry. Everyone can be messy." She assured him, before moving to another bookshelf. "You must love to read. There's so many books! Do you have a favorite?"
 
Blake looked down at his hand, surprised at how cold it seemed to be without Isabelle's wrapped in it. He looked back up, his gaze skimming over the bookshelves. It took him a moment to find what he was looking for, but then he took a step forward and pulled out an old book.


"Lord of the Rings," he said sheepishly, handling the large book with a gentle touch. "I have all of the books, including The Hobbit, and most of the other Tolkien books." Blake put the book back, then ran his hand over the other books on the shelf. "All of these books here are included in the Lord of the Rings universe and were written by Tolkien. The only one I'm missing The Silmarillion."
 
"I didn't know there were so many." Isabelle followed his hand as he trailed over the list of books. Then, with a slight shrug she added, "I haven't read them, I know of the series, but I haven't even watched the movies as a start. I know they're supposed to be good, though."


There were a lot of books and movies she had never seen. One of them being the Titanic, every romantic's must see movie. It didn't make sense to Isabelle to bother watching a movie she knew the ending to, it was just so obvious, the ship sank. Even so, it was one of the movies on her small bucket list. It was something she was a bit embarrassed to admit.


She placed her hands on her hips, finally done examining the shelves, she turned her head to Blake. "So, dinner, are you going to need my help?"
 
"Oh, right food, I forgot," said Blake, leaving the office and going into the kitchen. "What do you like? I've got tons of food, I just need to know what you want." He opened a cupboard and got two cups out, setting them onto the island.
 
Isabelle leaned against the frame of the door to the office, eyes fixed on Blake in the kitchen as she thought. "I'm okay with any meat, really, spicy is good. I don't want to make you work too hard, though."


She struggled to think of what she wanted, out of all the things in his cupboards. Taking casual steps into the kitchen she hummed and gently rocked on her feet.


"We could keep it simple, do some pasta, chicken if you have any. Unless you had something else in mind."
 
Blake listened to her, nodding while she talked. "Yeah, we can have pasta and chicken. I even think I have some kind of Indian spice that would make it spicy," he said, taking everything he needed and putting it on the counter. "Can you start boiling the pasta?" asked Blake, setting a pot on top of the stove.


He washed his hands and prepared a cutting board and knife so he could cut the chicken. "What's your favourite food?" he asked, doing his best to keep the conversation going.
 
Isabelle filled the pot with water as she responded. "It has to be a tie between just plain, fresh bread, and my Aunt's lasagna." When the pot had just enough water, she turned off the sink and went to set it on the stove. "Something about bread, and being a girl, I don't know." She laughed lamely.


She set the burner, added a small amount of salt, and finally added the lid before taking a step back to watch Blake. It was a silly thing to say, but, just the two of them in the kitchen felt nice. Almost homely.


"What do you like? And desserts, too." Isabelle added, waving a finger at him behind his back.


((Going for a run, be back later, don't you fret))
 
Blake cut the chicken into little chuncks, making sure to cut off any fat too. Once that was done he put it all into a frying pan, turned on the burner and went to rummage through the fridge for sour cream.


"Salad. Ceasar salad is my favourite. I could eat it for the rest of my life." He smiled at Isabelle before grabbing the Tikka Masala spice, the salt and the pepper. He didn't have a recipe, but he figured he could make a good enough meal if he just winged it.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
"I never would've guessed." Isabelle smiled back at Blake, then started to twiddle her thumbs, again embarrassed. He made her feel so, there wasn't a word, she just felt like smiling every time his head turned her way.


When the water finally reached a boil, Isabelle did her best to measure out enough for the two of them, and dumped it into the water. She turned the temperature down a little, and started to stir.


She concentrated, with too much effort, on keeping her eyes on the pot. Every so often she reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. If she looked up, Isabelle was afraid she'd become embarrassed if her eyes locked on Blake. She'd already turned a few shades of red talking to him before, so now was no different.


"What about dessert?" She asked, still awkwardly looking down, smiling like a fool, "You can't always eat salad, sometimes you need something a little sweet."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)
Back
Top