Bliss

fifteen

There's a knock at my window. It's loud, obnoxious. I ignore it, rolling onto my side and squeezing my eyes shut until the darkness softens around the edges.

It's back. A triple knock this time. My extra pillow finds itself pressed over my face.

There are a few minutes of silence. My eyelids unclench, my hands limpen, the pillow slips.

My phone rings. I tense all over again as I pat around for the offending item. Opening one eye, I spot Isaac's name scrawled across the screen. I decline.

He calls again.

"What?" I groan as I press the phone to my ear and burrow under my duvet.

"Get up," he hisses, knocking on the window again.

"It's eight-thirty."

"Exactly, we're late. Get up."

"No."

"Come on, Lizzie," he coos, his voice like silk. "You know you want to."

"Actually, I know I don't,"

"It's our last day," he says, whining like a baby.

"So?"

"So? What do you mean so?"

"I mean, so what?"

"Don't you want to spend it with me?" he asks. I can just imagine him clutching at his muscled chest as he pouts at the window.

"If it doesn't involve getting up at eight-thirty, then sure," I mutter, wriggling further under the duvet.

"But you're up now. What does it matter?"

Shit.

He has a point.

I shuffle up until I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. "What do you have in mind?" I sigh.

"That is a surprise, but meet me outside in half an hour. Oh, and make sure you bring a jumper."

I hang up before he can make any more demands. It's bad enough that I'm up at this ungodly hour; the last thing I need is a never-ending list of things to remember too.

Unfortunately, by the time I return from the shower, Isaac's managed to compile just that. It's ten items too long with a p.s and p.p.s that makes me roll my eyes. I'm half tempted to ignore it, but then a p.p.p.s appears, and my ice-caged heart melts. Just a little, mind you. Not enough to flood the room, but there's a small puddle beneath me, glistening teasingly as I reread his message.

Isaac: p.p.p.s I'm annoying...I know

Smiling like a fool, I shake it off and shove my phone into my back pocket. The list rolls through my mind until each and every item is stuffed into my backpack, and a jumper is tied around my waist. Then I leave, slipping out the door at nine on the dot.

Isaac's waiting at the end of the drive. He hikes his backpack higher, grabbing at the strap so tight his knuckles look like they're about to pop out and leave a trail of stringy tendons in their wake.

"You alright?" I ask, toying with the edge of my own backpack.

"Of course." A breathtaking smile blooms on his face, chasing away the indecision. "Let's go."

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask as I run after him. "Or am I going to have to guess?"

"How about you try trusting me."

"That's a big ask," I say, bumping my shoulder against his. "But yes, I do trust you."

"Then let's go." He threads his fingers through mine and tugs so hard my arm almost detaches from my shoulder. His grip forces me to speed up. It makes my legs hate my brain, and my lungs hate my heart. Then we come to a crashing stop beside a sleek black car, and my body realigns harmoniously.