Chapter 1 Everything is Perfect

ISABELLA

“Not this movie again!” I cry out as Addison hits play, staring at the TV with an impish smile. I lunge at her, trying to pry the remote from her hands, but she doesn’t let me, she doesn’t budge. Her blonde hair cascades over my face, some strands fall into my mouth, causing me to choke.

I spit them out as we roll around on the couch like children. Just as I reach for the remote, she shoves my face into the cushions, and our arms fly furiously through the air. “How can you not want to watch The Notebook!” she shouts as I attempt to pin her to the couch.

I pause and my mouth falls open. “We have watched it twice this week!” I reach for the remote once more, but she holds it high in the air behind her.

“So what? You watch Gilmore Girls daily,” she mocks out of breath.

“It’s a tv show, meaning the plot progresses each episode! The Notebook is the same thing every time.”

She resorts to her typical pouty face. Her plump lips protrude outward, slightly quivering. I roll my eyes dramatically. She had to go there. And if I don’t give in, she will sulk the rest of the night. I contemplate whether I want to deal with her sulking and eventually surrender. She leans into the couch, a victorious grin dancing on her face like she won a race, and she hits play.

I huff, shoving popcorn into my mouth. “I hate you.”

“Love you.” She elongates the vowels, puckers her lips, then takes the bowl of popcorn from my lap.

Sometimes I wish I had a submissive best friend. But then I think about how boring my life would be if Addison was ordinary.

Addison and I have been best friends since our freshman year of college. We met at a party when I saw a boy feeling her up. She tried telling him she wasn’t interested, but he didn’t listen. Me being me, I stepped in to stand up for her. Long story short, the guy left with a bloody nose, and I left with a new best friend.

I look over, noticing her eyes welling with tears as the movie title illuminates the screen. I shake my head. She always tears up before the movie starts, it doesn’t make sense.

“Your eyes are wet,” I say.

She sits up, running her hand under her wet nose. “It’s my allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies,” I state, but she ignores my comment.

She keeps me sane most of the time: emphasis on most.

My attention is elsewhere during the start of the movie. But every so often, I glance toward her. Her hair hides the side of her face, her body is turned away, and her hand rests on her chin—most likely gnawing on her nails. I know she is crying again, and I can’t stifle my laughter. I take the popcorn bowl from her lap and replace it with a tissue box from the coffee table, then munch away.

Halfway through the movie, an odd smell emanates through the air. I scrunch my nose, trying to gauge the scent. “Addy,” I say, getting her attention.

“Bell, I said I’m not crying—”

“No, what is that smell?”

She sits up abruptly, and her eyes dart back and forth through our apartment. A slew of swear words spews out as she dashes into the kitchen. I follow suit. “When you were showering, I thought I’d try making brownies,” she says, opening the oven. Suddenly, thick, black smoke pours out, surrounding us like storm clouds, and we start coughing.

“Windows, Addy, windows!” I shout, feeling around for a cookie sheet to waft the smoke away. I hear the pitter-patter of her feet, then the cracking of a window. But we’re too late. The fire alarm blares like a tornado siren, and I plug my ears.

“They’re going to evacuate the building because of us!”

“No, they won’t, it’s just smoke,” Addy says. “There isn’t a fire, just keep moving!” We continue waving the cookie sheets, aiming for the windows, but the alarm doesn’t stop. So, Addy climbs onto a chair, fiddling with the smoke detector cemented to the ceiling. When she can’t get it, I take over.

The second I tear the smoke detector off the ceiling mount, the blaring noise comes to a halt, and all we can hear is Noah saying: “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” I lean against the cabinets, closing my eyes with a sigh.

“From here on out, you are banned from cooking, baking, or using the kitchen appliances,” I say. Instead of getting mad at me, laughter pours out of Addy. Soon enough, I’m laughing too. When our giggling fit subsides, she pokes the charred dessert with a fork, but it sounds like she’s stabbing a rock.

“I think it’s time for bed,” I announce, walking toward my room.

Her face falters. “We haven’t finished the movie.”

“Night, Addy,” I shout from the hallway when I can’t see her anymore and climb into my comfy bed.

✤

The next morning, before Addy and I rush to class, we stop at a local cafe for our daily dose of coffee. It is a pleasant way to start the day. It gives us time to get our heads on straight before listening to an hour-long lecture. Plus, the coffee here works wonders.

With a black coffee for me and an extravagant latte for her, we perch ourselves at a little booth by the window.

“How’s Jake?” she asks, sipping her drink and flinching when it scalds her tongue.

“He’s good.” I can’t help but smile at the mention of his name. Although we’ve only been dating for a couple of months, it is the longest I’ve ever been with someone. I never thought dating was worth my time until I met Jake.

“Is he going to come to visit soon?”

“I hope, he knows it’s his turn to come here.” It’s hard to see each other since we live far, but we make it work the best we can.

My eyes fixate on the door where more students filter in. Although, it’s nobody I know.

I look back over to find Addy staring into the distance. “What’s floating around in there?” I ask.

She furrows her eyebrows and looks at me. “Why can’t I ever keep any of my boyfriends?” We both burst into a fit of laughter, already knowing the answer why.

“You know what,” she holds her hand up, “please don’t answer that!”

“You sure? Cause I will gladly answer.”

Her eyes squint with anger. “I know you will.”

We make it back to campus just in time and part for class. I walk through the biology lecture hall toward the seat I usually occupy, pull the attached desk up, and get my notes ready. Students rush inside in the nick of time, taking their respected seats. The professor greets us and mumbles about the anatomy of the skeletal system.

As I’m jotting down important notes, I feel something brush the back of my hair. I ignore it, assuming it’s someone taking their seat behind me, but when it happens again, way too close for comfort, I turn to see.

“Have a pencil?” Miles Cunningham asks, his face mere inches away from mine. I jolt backward, startled by his proximity.

Already annoyed by his presence, I make a pouty face. “I’m writing with a pen, aren’t I?” I snap, motioning to my hand. His eyes peer at my pen, then nonchalantly back to my face.

“If you have a pen, surely you have a pencil I can use.”

“Surely, I do not,” I lie. Of course, I have extra pencils, I never come to class unprepared. But I’m not giving him one; he knows I don’t like him, and the only reason he’s speaking to me is to get under my skin.

Cocking his head to the side, he says, “Come on Darlin’, what’s your problem with me?”

I want to laugh an obnoxious, screeching laugh right in his face. Maybe it will scare him off and I will never have to see his face again.

Just when I’m about to reply, the professor stops talking, and the squeaking of old lecture chairs ensues. I look up from my notebook to find my teacher staring directly at Miles and me with the most irritated look on his face. Not only are the professor’s eyes on us, so is the entire class.

“Am I disturbing you both?” he asks.

Whispers echo throughout the room. Miles leans back in his chair, placing his hand against his heart and shaking his head. “No sir, you can continue.” His tone shows his lack of care for the situation.

“I do not tolerate that type of attitude in my class.” The laughter in the room falls short because of our professor’s comment. Miles’ eye twitches, annoyed. He is being challenged, not the other way around.

As the professor resumes his lecture, Miles glowers at me.

“Sorry, Darlin’.” I wink, turning around. And the point goes to me.

When class is over, the professor dismisses everyone. We eagerly file out of the oversized room. I push through the crowd as fast as I can to meet Addison in the courtyard by a bench we designated as our meeting point.

When she comes into sight, her hand grips my wrist and she says, “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Hello to you too?” When she doesn’t respond but continues tugging me to our car, I ask, “What’s wrong? We always go for sushi on Fridays, it’s a tradition.”

“We can go another time! Let’s just go home,” she says again.

The entire car ride home, she doesn’t speak with me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t press any further. When we approach the door to our apartment, she knocks instead of getting her key out. What the actual hell is she doing? Has she lost her mind?

“Addison why are you knocking on our—” The door creaks open, stopping me from speaking, and that’s when I see Jake standing in the doorway, smiling.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, his voice sweet. I take a moment to react, but when I do, I leap into his arms.

“Oh my, I’ve missed you so much! When did you get here? I had no clue you were coming.” I squeeze my eyes shut, taking in his warmth and scent that I’ve missed so much. He holds me just as tight, then pulls away and pushes the fallen hairs out of my face.

“I got here twenty minutes ago, this one over here planned it.” I turn around to look at Addy, who is standing with a cheeky grin. I let go of Jake and wrap my arms around her.

“It’s my apology for almost burning the apartment down,” she chuckles as we rock back and forth. After thanking her, she tells us she’s going to Rosie’s café to study. But I know it is to give us alone time.

The moment she’s gone, and the apartment door closes behind us, Jake’s muscular arms wrap around my torso from behind, causing my body to ignite. He rests his chin in the divot of my collarbone, and I shudder at his warm breath on my skin.

“Surprised to see me?” he asks, and his lips connect with my neck.

“Happy to see you,” I correct him, tilting my head up and letting our lips meet to show just how happy I am.

We retire to the couch, and he pulls my legs onto his lap. His fingers draw small circles over my ankle, and I flinch from how it tickles. I’m extremely happy he’s here, and I didn’t realize just how much I missed him until now. His pretty eyes are fixated on mine, and a devilish grin tugs at his lips.

“Do you need something?” I ask, playfully. His eyebrows rise in response.

I expect him to be playful back, but his voice comes out in a low grumble. “Yes, I do.”

“And what’s that?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he leans forward, forcing my back against the couch. Our lips are inches apart, causing my heart to thump against my chest like a rhythmic drum. Right when I think he’s going to kiss me, his lips graze my cheek, teasing me. He places a soft kiss, then moves down a little further, planting another one on my neck, followed by another, and another.

“Jake,” I choke, unable to control my erratic breathing. “Just kiss my lips already, dammit.”

He laughs at my demand but obliges. “I missed that dirty mouth of yours.”

He dives in, kissing me feverishly. Our lips move back and forth, and I fist my hand through his blond hair, tugging hard at the roots.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but we continue making out. Butterflies erupt in my stomach when his hands glide toward my jeans and begin unbuttoning them. He helps shimmy me out of the tight denim and tosses them somewhere behind us.

We resume kissing, but the moment his hand reaches for his jeans, I frantically sit up. “Um, Jake, you know I’m not ready.”

His face falters. “I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

I smile faintly, embarrassed I killed the mood. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry.” I wave my hand in the air, trying to dismiss my reluctance to have sex. He kisses my forehead, as I internally try dismantling my guilt and enjoying the moment we shared.

He snakes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his embrace. “I have to leave early Sunday morning,” he says after a couple of minutes of silence.

“Can’t you skip school and stay with me for the semester?” I plead. Hearty laughter escapes him. The sound of it puts me at ease.

“I wish, pumpkin. I’ll come down another weekend and stay extra long. We can go out for ice cream every night, stay up late and cuddle.” He pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. “And make out, go out to dinner…”

His fingers fly over my body, tickling me, and my laughter fills the room. These are the moments I missed. Us messing around, basking in each other’s presence, and not worrying about anything else.

I pray the weekend goes slowly.