Out of My League

Chapter 9 (Izzy)

Three taps to the bottom part of my radius is, and has been since seventh grade, Reagan and I's silent way of asking if the other had been kissed on their date.

Unfortunately, Reagan had shaken her head.

We'd developed the system of silent communication to talk about my mom's abuse on the rare occasion that she was in the same room as us and we couldn't say the words aloud.

It'd evolved into a system to talk about more than abuse, thank goodness, like asking about dates with boys or days at work.

Reagan uses hers, mostly, to ask me, on my really bad days, if I'd eaten or drank anything all day.

It helps me a lot because usually, on those days, I don't want to talk to anybody, but I can manage the shaking or nodding of my head.

The moment we're far enough away from Noah and Connor, though, silent communication isn't necessary.

"Tell me everything," I say as we load in to the taxi, both of us too tired to walk the distance, me, too tired to walk it again, "Start to finish."

"There isn't much, honestly," she says as she ducks inside of the car, pulling her purse into her lap, "We went to eat and then to the arcade, just like Connor said."

"How'd you like it?"

"He was sweet," she smiles, a full-toothed smile that shows off the teeth that braces had worked wonders on in middle school, "Really sweet. I had a great time."

"But?"

"But, nothing," she insists, "But, if you still need me to say it, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't more interested in how your date with Noah went."

"Date?" I quirk an eyebrow like what she said is nonsense, but the butterflies in my stomach go a little crazy at the word, "It wasn't a date. We were each others' replacement best friend while we waited on you two to get back."

"Izzy, I know that you might've needed a replacement because we live together," she tilts her head and a single piece of hair falls in front of her left eye, "But Noah and Connor would've gone home by themselves as soon as the game was over and spent the evening alone with no hesitation."

"So?"

"So, let me be a little more clear," she laughs, "He wanted to spend time with you."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do," she nods, "Wholeheartedly."

"Well, whether or not he wanted to spend time with me is really irrelevant," I shrug, "Because I had fun with him, a lot of fun."

"Good," she smiles and leans her head back on the seat, "It was probably a dream come true to play baseball on that field."

"You have no idea," I'm almost positive that I have a dream-like haze all across my face, "Watching baseball on that field is incredible, but playing on it? I've never had so much fun in my life."

"I'd be offended, except I don't blame you at all."

I laugh, but other than that, neither of us make any move to speak.

In the lobby, Reagan and I veer towards the elevator before heading up.

The room is exactly as we'd left it this morning after getting ready: in shambles.

We'd accidentally slept in an extra forty-five minutes this morning which doesn't seem like a lot, but when two girls are sharing one bathroom, it quickly became a disaster.

And the room shows it.

With a single, exhausted look at each other, we set to work tidying it up.

One good thing about the two of us living together is that neither of us enjoy a messy living space, so we split the work pretty evenly.