On Purpose

~24~

I found myself in the kitchen with Isabelle. Since last night, we hadn't exchanged any words, and once again, we were enveloped in silence, the thing I hated.
I took charge of whisking the eggs while she skillfully prepared the pancakes. There was no need for instructions or requests; we simply woke up and got right to work.
I could tell she was upset because I didn't allow her to sleep with me last night, but it would have been awkward. I understand that we slept together once on the couch, but that doesn't count. Sleeping in a bed is different, isn't it?
"You never took me to the museum last Tuesday."
I looked at her when she spoke, breaking the silence, and I thanked her with a confident smile., "How about we go today? I should be off of work early."
She mirrored my smile and nodded, her ponytail bouncing as she did so.
"Sounds like a plan."

][}{][

I sat with Bill at work. He was talking about Kyle and his streaming app. While I never mentioned that I knew Kyle, I could tell he had a hunch.

"So?" he said, stirring his coffee. It seemed like neither of us had anything to do at the moment. I was still waiting for Mrs. Green, and Kyle was Bill's only client.

"So what?" I asked, skipping the creamer step.
"You're glowing, what's her name?"
If my eyes weren't wide when he decided to have coffee with me, they were certainly wide after his question.
"What are you talking about?"
He stared at me as if I was the one asking the dumb question.
"You're suddenly all smiles. Either you got a huge paycheck or you're dating someone."
As I processed his words, I could only think of Isabelle; Her unique blend of scents, something only she can pull off; her long brown hair, those captivating chocolate brown eyes that I can't stop staring into; her pink lips that she bites whenever it's nothing but silence between us; her small frame and her mean glares.
I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto that image of her in my mind, like a photograph.
I don't have romantic feelings for her, I don't.
But if that's true, why is my heart racing? Why are my cheeks getting hot? My throat tightens as I try to suppress my emotions.
I looked at Bill and sighed, "It's complicated."
But is it really? It seems like it's on the table; I have feelings for Isabelle, Miss Purpose. Is it too soon? Maybe it's a good thing? No, I just got out of a breakup. I don't want to convince myself that Isabelle is the one and end up getting hurt on Christmas-or worse, New Year's.
I need to protect my heart, the heart my mom left behind and my dad shaped. I can't give that to just anyone. I already made a mistake by giving it to Jessie, and look where that got me.
Then all I can think about is my dad asking me what I want in life... What do I want? And there it is, in the photograph of Isabelle in my mind.
I want to be her purpose, her reason. I want to gaze into those chocolate brown eyes until the end of time. I want to wake up next to someone instead of being alone. I want to love Isabelle for no reason at all. I want to love her on purpose, and I don't know why.

][}{][

I sat in my car, taking a deep breath. I knew I had to tell her, and I rehearsed my words and imagined her reactions.
Glancing at the library, I held my breath momentarily before stepping out of the car with a determined nod.
Inside, the scent of hand sanitizer had been replaced by a peculiar sweet aroma, reminiscent of freshly baked cupcakes. I noticed a book club poster for ages thirteen and up, scheduled from Wednesday to Friday.
Approaching the front desk, I found that the girl I had spoken to Friday wasn't there. Instead, there was an older guy, tall and slender. The way he carried himself made me suspect he might be gay.
"Hey, do you know where Isabelle is?"
"Isabelle who?" His tone was high and sweet showing that he was out there.
While he gazed at me and patiently awaited a response, I suddenly realized that Isabelle and I hadn't exchanged last names.
"She works here, she has long brown hair and-" His nod interrupted me as he spoke along with his nod. "Oh, Isabelle Gibson."
I nodded even though I didn't know that.
"She's helping someone down that way."
He gestures towards a the open space filled with shelves and tables. A man, who appears to be homeless, is seated at a computer, chuckling at a video.
"Thanks."
I walked towards the shelves he pointed to, passing by the homeless man in the process. He looked up at me and nodded, and I returned the gesture before continuing forward. As I walked, I scanned through some of the books, but none of them really caught my attention. They were all music books, mostly classics and jazz, for guitar and saxophone.
As I made my way to the end of the aisle, I heard a female voice giggling and talking, it was muffled and I couldn't make out what she was saying. Absentmindedly scanning through more books, I accidentally bumped into a woman. She stumbled, and I quickly reached out and gripped her arm to steady her. "I'm sorry." She had a smile on her face as she shook her head.
"No worries, I'm just looking for someone. His name is Fred Carson-" I couldn't help but interrupt her with a shocked expression. "What did you say his name was?"
"Fred-" before she could repeat herself, a deep voice cut behind me.
I looked behind me and noticed that Nicki's husband was approaching. He was carrying a small box that was wrapped in white wrapping paper.
"Gianna!" As he hugged her, he acted as if he didn't see me as she gently held his face and kissed him on the lips.
"Hey dear, I thought you stood me up." She remarked as she stepped back to observe him. It was evident that Fred was taken aback by the kiss at first, given my knowledge of his wife and witnessing him in the company of another woman.
"Oh, hey, Owen, right?" He smiled at me and disregarded the other woman's words, placing his arm around her waist.
"Oliver."
"Right-same thing-look, don't tell Nicki about this. I'm telling her soon."
I held back the urge to shake my head in shame.
I said, "You do that," before pushing past him and following the voice of the girl I once heard.
She had stopped giggling and was speaking in a normal tone. When I reached the voice, I found Isabelle, but she wasn't alone.
A taller man stood beside her, both Isabelle and him held a stack of books. She did all the talking, and he nodded in agreement. I stood at the end of the aisle, observing. Unsure of what to do, I debated whether to approach them or remain there, my heart in my hands. I continued to stand until Isabelle turned her head in my direction.
"Dip-Noodle!" Isabelle exclaimed, jogging towards me with open arms.
As she hugged me, I managed to reciprocate the embrace. The man approached us, wearing a smile.
"You must be Oliver," he said, his voice deeper than I had anticipated.
His hair was blonde, truly blonde, and his eyes were a deep blue that many would desire to gaze into. "Do I know you?" I inquired. "No, but Isabelle couldn't stop talking about you," he replied with a smirk. As I observed him closely, I noticed his age. His hair made him appear youthful, but he employed the Christy Technique: dyeing his grey hairs to maintain a youthful look. Even though I could discern the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth even if he wasn't smiling.
"This is Mr. Lee, my former high school teacher," Isabelle introduced with a big smile.
"You can call me Parker." He extended his hand, which I firmly shook. "Nice to meet you, I'm Oliver, as you already know," I said as we exchanged greetings. "Yes, I do. By the way, Isabelle mentioned that you're taking her to an Art Museum. Would you mind if my wife and I join you?"
Isabelle looked at me for an answer; I did not want to share this moment with him and his wife when it was supposed to be just Isabelle and me.
She clapped her hands and turned to Parker. "Sounds great, where is she?" Thanks a lot, Isabelle. "She was here, but she had to leave," he replied. I wanted to ask why, but it wasn't my place.
"Will she be able to meet us at the museum?" Isabelle inquired. "I will make sure she does," Parker assured, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he turned away from Isabelle. "Is that alright, Olly?" Although Olly is a common nickname, I didn't like how he said it. It was deep and seemed as though he knew me, and that scared me.
"Sure," I replied. Isabelle hugged my arm and squealed. "It will be like a double date." I looked down at her and looked at Parker. "I will meet you guys there," Parker said as he walked away.
Once he was gone, Isabelle loosened her grip on my arm but didn't pull away. She looked up at me with a concerned expression.
"You don't want him to come, do you?" She asked. "No, it's not that. I just thought it would be me and you, not your teacher and his wife," I explained. "We're going to have fun, and if you want me to yourself, we could find a private place." I watch as she wiggles her eyebrows which made me laugh.
"I would, but not until I discovered that pimple on your nose."
That definitely caught her attention. She was taken aback and covered her nose in surprise.
"Are you being for real?"
I placed my hands inside my pockets and proceeded to walk around the shelf when I heard her call out to me.
"Tell the truth, is there?"
I chuckled in response as she caught up with me. I dropped my arm around her shoulder.
Right then, it occurred to me that I didn't need to tell Isabelle about my feelings; she already knew.