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Chapter Two
Isla
The glow of my laptop screen illuminates my comforter, as well as the scrawled notes and textbooks strewn across my bed.
The C glares at me from the screen of my academic portal. I'm an A student, and I don’t know how this happened.I exhale slowly, willing the tightness in my chest to relax. It’s just one exam, after all. Not the end of the world. Everyone gets mediocre grades sometimes, and I’m not sure why I expect perfection from myself. Literally no one else does.
If my best friend was here right now, she’d be telling me off. I lie down, stretching across my bed as the fabric of the comforter bunches under my forearms.
My apartment feels too small all of a sudden. The walls press in on me with the stress of expectations and deadlines. My gaze drifts to the window where sunlight dances through the leaves of the old oak outside, casting playful shadows that take me back to childhood and the old tire swing I’d enjoyed when I was little. I’ve always loved the outdoors, and summers were spent only coming inside for the essentials. As an adult, I miss that freedom.
Maybe I need a day out. I could go to the orchard just outside the city limits and pick apples. I can almost smell the sweet tang of ripe apples, feel the rough bark against my palms as I reach for the ripe fruit hidden among the leaves.
There’s also a berry patch not too far away, either. Closing my eyes, I imagine navigating thorns, the satisfying plunk of berries dropping into the plastic bucket, the purple stains on my fingers.
I need to plan for my next video, anyway. How about apple pie? I can practically smell the warm cinnamon, taste the sweet tender slices of apple, feel the flaky and golden crust.
Or maybe a blackberry crumble, with the slight crunch of the topping that gives way to the tart sweetness of the berries. And on a hot day like this, nothing beats a fresh fruit smoothie if I’m not in the mood to cook. So many options to choose from, how can I ever decide?
I shrug off the stress of getting a C, replacing that feeling with a sense of purpose and a plan. Tomorrow, I can trade lessons and homework for baking delicious treats.
But even as excitement trickles into my blood like an IV drip, homesickness twists my guts up in knots.
Outside, the noise of the city reminds me that I’m far from home. Instead of quiet and birds singing, or the occasional rumble of a pickup truck heading down the gravel road I lived on, I listen instead to honks, random people yelling, loud laughter, and the screech of tires as two vehicles nearly collide in a close call.
But inside these four walls, it’s just me and the ticking of the clock, reminding me that I have to be to work soon.
“You’ve been quiet for a long time,” Chase says. “You better not be fixating on that grade. You’re brilliant and we both know it.”
I close my eyes, listening to Chase's voice across the miles separating us. “Thank you, I needed to hear that,” I whisper, grateful for his ability to say what I need to hear when I need to hear it. He’s perfect for me, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing in this moment. “I have to go to work soon.”
I can hear the regret ringing in my voice.
“I miss you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
My heart clenches at his words and the way he says them. “I miss you, too.” We’ve been together as long as I can remember.
Since the third grade, to be exact. He’d been the only one to help me to my feet after a fall on the pavement. He’d examined my scraped knee and looked up at me with a squint, his earnest expression instantly earning my trust. Even now, I can remember him telling me that he thought I’d be alright. Even now the memory brings a smile to my lips.
We’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s been my only boyfriend, the only guy I’ve ever kissed, the only person I can imagine sharing my life with. He’s my forever person, even though neither of us are in a hurry to take big next steps toward that future.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I’m not surprised he knows something is up, the man knows me better than anyone. He might even know me better than I know myself.
“Yeah, just... annoyed about the C. And I don't want to work tonight.” I love my job, but some nights, I just want to stay home and sleep instead. “And I might be feeling just a little bit homesick.”
“Just a little bit?” he teases.
“Just a little bit,” I say, pinching my thumb and index finger so close they’re almost touching before remembering I’m alone.
“I’ll try not to be offended by that,” he teases. But I can hear that he’s not convinced. I have no doubt that he knows just by the way I’d told him about getting that C and saying it wasn’t a big deal told him the truth - it is a big deal to me. And he knows me too well—he knows that behind my casual air of no worries, that self-doubt picks at me every moment of every day.
“Hey,” he says, his voice firm, “I meant it when I said you're brilliant. Don't let one grade mess with your head.”
I know he’s right - there’s no point in obsessing over something I can’t change. I just need to study harder and make sure I’m in a better headspace for the next test. “Thanks,” I murmur, feeling loved and safe. This is the man I’m going to marry one day, when we’re both ready. I have no doubts about that.
“Anytime,” he says in a soft voice, and I can almost see the smirk on his face, the one that promises he'd move mountains if I asked him to.
“Okay, I really need to get ready,” I say, not wanting to get off the phone yet.
