invasato [h.s]

10

Subsequently, I forced myself to forget about what happened at the beach.

It was nothing but a mere slip up on Isaac's part. I blew it out of proportion. I'm learning to control the feelings that come from my trauma and being in Denver is just making that tougher...but at least I'm facing it head on.

Although, I'd much rather ignore it.

It's nearing 10:00 at night now, and I'm showering just to freshen up for the night. I leave tomorrow night, which means I should get back to Milan around 5 in the evening the next day.

I'm a bit sunburnt from the beach and that's evident by how the water feels on my skin in the shower. It's uncomfortable but it doesn't hurt, the water not being hot enough to scold my skin. It's merely lukewarm. I made the shower quick, washing my body and hair. I had a pair of sweatpants and one of Isaac's shirts on the sink waiting to engulf me with comfort when I stepped out of the shower.

All in all, Ive enjoyed my time here with Isaac. It's nice to see him again.

When I left for Italy, Isaac was really hesitant to support me because of the fragile status of our relationship. My move was sudden, and I sort of sprung it on him without warning. On my part, I wasn't trying to hurt him, I was trying to save myself...from this place, from my past. It wasn't his fault.

I dry myself off with a navy blue towel—Isaac's favorite color. I then step into the comfy sweats and throw the grey shirt on. With the same towel, I run it through my damp hair and then throw my hair up into a bun to keep it off the back of the shirt.

I flick off the light to the bathroom and walk out, rubbing my tired eyes as I head down the hall to Isaac's bedroom. I can hear the television in the living room, which made me think Isaac was still out there watching a show or something.

My thoughts are proven wrong, however. Because when I step into the bedroom, I see Isaac sitting on the edge of his bed with something in his hand.

"Hey." I say quietly as I approach him. He doesn't say anything...he doesn't even look up at me which instantly makes me super confused.

Then, I see what he has in his hand.

My phone.

I stop about a foot away from his sitting figure, furrowing my brows as I look down at my cellphone in his hand.

"What are you—"

"You've made a few friends in Italy?" his voice speaks low, not looking at me yet.

I'm confused.

"A-a few, I guess. What's going on?" I question as I go to reach for his hand but he quickly pulls his hand up, gripping my phone and looking at me now.

His eyes were darker than usual, his jaw clenched and my phone gripped in his hand.

"Isaac, can you give me my phone..." I ask as politely as I can, looking at the device in his palm.

He scoffs under his breath and brings my phone down in his lap so he could see the screen.

"3 new messages from Zayn Malik and 1 missed call. 1 voicemail...from Zayn Malik."

He reads off of my screen.

I shut my eyes and let out a sigh, not wanting to deal with this right now.

"Isaac—"

"See, I gave you the benefit of the doubt at first. I just assumed he was a friend." he shrugs, acting nonchalant until his eyes grow dark. "But then, I looked at the messages."