Choices We Make

13.

A week later...

"What do you think of this?" Harry stuck his phone into Isabella's eyes, forcing her to blink.

They were having a lunch break, but Isabella being herself, she decided to review the pile of stacking documents with different numbers. It's the only way should not think. For the past couple weeks, she's trying to do that a lot.

At first, the culprit being behind her buzzing thoughts was Cassie — she still is — but now, Olivia was pushing herself inside. Am I going insane? Isabella would stop and think. For years she went through hardship what could easily knock person from the ground.

But Isabella stood tall, holding head high because that's how she grew up. A show of weakness was frowned up. She couldn't let herself feel... she never learn how to feel.

Why this is so hard... Isabella hated the endless loop of haunting thoughts.

She focused on inpatient Harry. His phone screen was showing a picture of small diner what reminded of the '90s. It was definitely cute and reviews were great, but it doesn't seem a place suitable for a date. Maybe early Sunday brunch to cure a hangover with greasy food.

"Run down dining lounge? Cute, but no offence, Harry, when you want to impress a girl bring her somewhere,-" she supped herself, mind going to the last time she planned a date. It's been too long. "-I don't know, where she likes?"

Harry's lips thinned, lines brown brows deepening. "Um, that's a problem. I don't know what she likes."

"Nothing?"

"Not really," he scratched the nape of his neck. "We've been talking only for a week, getting to know each other... but... um, I'm lost? I really like her."

Isabella let a small smile creep on her lips. Harry wasn't the one to speak about his feelings — probably the reason why they both get along so well. Him talking about the girl from few floors down — an I.T sector or so hardy let on — was a fresh air of breath.

It helped Isabella not to think about her own problems.

"Hey, calm down," Isabella offered an encouraging smile. She wrapped fingers around the coffee mug. "Don't beat yourself... look, how about you name what she's like. Her personality."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How anything of this gonna help?"

"Just do it, mate."

Unbuttoning his black, tailored jacket, Harry sunk deeper into the leathery loveseat, kicking dark brown shoes on top of the coffee table.

"Well, she loves to read, art stuff... her favourite activity is running, which I'm not huge fan of,-" he stopped when Isabella glared at him. "-um, she's also vegan, has a few dogs... her family owns a farm,-"

Isabella hummed. Truthfully, those things only told her that she was an outdoors person. Which narrows to a problem one: Harry hates everything that comes with outdoor activities.

"Okay," Isabella mumbled, hiding the look of loss behind the large mug. She added, grimacing. "That will help narrow some things."

"Like what?"

Think... think.

"Have you very ridden a horse?"

Harry's eyes went wide. He shook the head. "No?"

"Well, you will soon. One of my friends owns a horse farm nearby. He owes a favour for me."

"What?" Harry echoed, confusion and discomfort falling on soft futures. "I'm a little bit lost."