Out of My League

Chapter 17 (Izzy)

The nightmare, much to my surprise, wasn't about my mother.

Well, I guess that's not entirely true.

It was the things that my mother had done to me, the beatings that had ensued at her hand, but it was Noah that was laying his hands on me.

That's my brain's cruel way of playing a prank on me.

Oh, you're finally happy? Time to ruin that.

Then again, it's partially my brain's fault that I'm depressed. If it would just make it's 'happy chemicals,' I wouldn't be in this predicament.

But, I guess that's not entirely true either.

The human body is way too complex for that.

I don't want to tell Noah about the nightmare for multiple reasons, but the main reason is obvious: what is he going to say if he finds out that I'm dreaming about him beating me?

He'd never lay a hand on me; I know that deep within my soul.

Not even if someone tried to force him to do so.

Why can't my brain understand that?

Pushing the thought aside, I stride into the hotel lobby, taking the elevator up to our floor before knocking on Reagan and I's door.

She throws it open immediately, jaw open wide and excited.

"There's no news," I say with a laugh, stepping into the door and closing it.

Reagan's smile drops. A pout immediately takes over her facial features.

"Oh, except for one thing," I say, nonchalantly, "He asked me to be his girlfriend."

The word still sounded foreign to me, but has yet to fail to give me butterflies.

"He asked you what?" Reagan yells, eyes wide as she rushes over to hug me, "Izzy, that is so amazing. I'm so happy for you."

"I am, too," I say with a smile, "Happy, I mean, genuinely happy. Noah makes me happy. Please help me, I can't stop saying happy."

Reagan grins, "Tell me everything."

I do, recapping as much as I can without sounding like too much of a fangirl, but then again, what do I care if I sound like a fangirl?

I am totally being a fangirl over my first boyfriend and, if I'm being honest, have been since long before we met.

He's the reason I became a fangirl in the first place.

After I've explained everything to Reagan, who had the perfect reaction to every, single event, it's time to start getting ready for the game.

"What do you think?" I ask, holding up a jean skirt in front of me, "This? Or should I do my usual jean shorts?"

"I think," Reagan says with a small smile, "You should be the you that Noah fell in love with. Don't change now."

I playfully roll my eyes, "I'm not changing, per-say, I'm just becoming the best version of myself for Noah. He deserves that much."

"You already are the best version of yourself," she says, vigorously applying blush to her high cheekbones, "So, in my opinion, it's best to just be you."

"Thanks, Reag."

"And, also, this is a complete coincidence, but could I borrow that skirt? It'll look good with my shirt."

I playfully roll my eyes, laughing as I toss it to her and she heads into the bathroom to change.

When she's reappeared, t-shirt that she'd ordered early on in the summer paired with my jean skirt and feet slid into a pair of skater shoes, we head to the ballpark.