You Are My Weakness

Chapter 3

After sitting down, I notice a crumpled note on the right side of my desk. Intrigued, I take it in my hand and slowly open it.

In my mind, I already know who wrote it to me but I hope it's not him, because whatever is written on it, I know it'll hurt me.

"You're not even going to welcome me back?" I read, written in the handwriting I know by heart. Or at least, I knew.

I take a deep breath very calmly, trying to make sure that my emotions don't take over me. I repeat to myself that the more confused and shaken he sees me, the happier he'll be. I have to make him understand that now, he no longer has any power over me.

''I can't welcome you back without knowing where you're coming from.'' I decide to reply with this short but painful sentence with the intention of catching him by surprise. I'll be as cold as him, and as Amelie said I'll play at his own game.

I send it back to him without even looking in his eyes and I wait for an answer from him anxiously, but I try not to make it obvious that my desire to know what happened is immense.

Instead of receiving an answer to my doubts, I hear the annoying noise of the paper crumpling, Dylan's action, who obviously still doesn't want to tell me anything.

Amelie gives me an angry and disappointed glare. I read her mind and understand that in her opinion, I shouldn't have even answered his question.

Dylan does all this to show that he still owns me, that whatever he says I will agree. He is convinced that I'll be the one to make the first step and forgive him. Even if part of me wants to yell at him, hug him, and talk back to him like years ago, I'll try to ignore him and not do what he expects.

From the side of my eye, I see Jessica's jealous gaze as she starts tearing a piece of paper from her notebook and starts to write a sentence on it. I can't make out what's written on it, but from the swift movement of her hand I understand that she signs with a heart and then places it on Dylan's desk.

He opens the note with a curious look, and the moment I see the curve of the smile that forms on his face, I feel blood boiling in my veins.

A strange feeling takes over me. Could it be jealousy? I shake my head to push this inconceivable idea out of my mind.

I see him return the note to Jessica and she smiles at her friends in victory, while she gives me an acid look that I immediately return.

The teacher's words fly over my mind. I'm too focused on this and I'm actually sorry. I've always been the best student of the class but today, I just can't follow the lesson. I can only think about what happened and what will happen.

Finally, I hear Mrs. Malcolm bringing to a conclusion the endless lesson that seems to have been going on for years. I entertain myself by making drawings in the notebook so as not to think about him, at least for a few seconds.

Amelie is also visibly tense and I understand that she too is wondering how all of this will go on. She surely will also be thinking about the reaction of Brandon, her boyfriend and also Dylan's best friend. They too had an inseparable and almost fraternal bond.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bell, ringing and exaggeratedly loud. Right now, I'm only interested in getting out of this room. I quickly put the books in my backpack and get ready to go to the classroom for the history lesson, unfortunately without Amelie who has French instead.

''Isa, see you later. Text me if anything happens, and remember what I told you.'' She warns me, alluding to the coldness I should be showing towards Dylan.

"Okay, see you at the bar at recess." I say bye to her quickly with a kiss on the cheek.

As I walk to the door, I feel a strong arm grab me by the shoulder making me turn towards him.

He's exactly the last person I'd like to see in front of me. I try to look away from his hazel eyes, deep and penetrating.

''We need to talk, Belle.'' He says with a deep tone.

Belle, the nickname he gave me when we were still small and carefree, the nickname that only he used to call me by. I hadn't heard it for so long.

His eyes find mine with a questioning look, desperately waiting for an answer.

But in his eyes there isn'tt the look with which I left him, sweet and tender. There's an impassive and cold look. A look that I never imagined he could have.

At least not when looking at me.