I Don't Like The Attention

Isabella and Christopher, "Let Me Help You"

ISABELLA

My dreams were full of nothing but Christopher. His bronze hair, the tan skin of his hands running through each lock on top of his head. He truly seemed aggravated with himself last night. I cannot help but wonder what he wished to say. I cannot help but to wonder, even though I know I shouldn’t.

 

The sounds of my alarm could not even disturb my slumber. I woke, on my own, having the repetitive buzz as mere background noise to my Saturday. A quick glance at the clock reminded me of my duties for today. I was late. Over two hours late.

 

I shed my covers quicker than a lightening strike and stumbled over to my closet. I’ve never been late for anything, not once in my life. And of all things to be late for! Work. After last night, they’re probably having wild fantasies of me committing suicide, after letting my sorrows soar through the night.

 

After pulling on a pair of faded jean shorts and a Coffee Hut tee, I slide into my sneakers and head for the door. The thoughts going through my head centered around Christopher, and what he would say. What he must be thinking. This is wrong.

 

I should be thinking of a way to explain to my boss how I overslept by two hours. No, I didn’t hear my alarm. He would study me for a moment. Yes, it was on full blast. A strange, curious look would appear across his face. No, I don’t need to see a doctor.

 

As I run outside, my body is suddenly hit by the whipping, frosty air. On second thought. How is it that I forgot it was January? My arms attract to my body like magnets. Yes, I am aware that I’m wearing shorts.

 

Just as I’m turning back to the door, I spot Christopher near running my way. “Isabella?” He asks, slowing down to a walk. He tilts his head to the side as he notices my attire. I try to act casual, hoping he wont repeat this to anyone. “Are.. you alright?” He asks, and I hear the worry in his voice.

 

I pull my eyes away just as they are fighting to meet his. I’m struggling. “I’m fine.” I lie, as I loose control of the shivers. He notices and immediately begins leading me back into the building. I reluctantly follow.

 

“If you’re fine, why are you in shorts?” He asks, his hand placed on my lower back. His casual touch has totally frozen me. Dropping his hand, he understands my need of personal space. I start walking again, heading for the stairs. He follows, almost like a lost puppy. Each step up I take, he’s just one below me.

 

I don’t like the attention.

 

“Isabella..” He says, and I feel his fingers around my wrist. I freeze, once more. It’s as if his touch knocked the wind out of my entire body, my lungs now fighting for even the smallest amount of air. This time he doesn’t let me go.

 

My eyes travel down to his and it’s as if with just this one look, he can read into my soul. It’s as if he’s suddenly taking ever emotion I’ve ever felt straight from my body, storing it in his mind. I try to fight the pull, but I cannot escape his eyes. No person should have this kind of effect on me. On anyone.

 

“Isabella..” He repeats, taking a step up to meet my level. My eyes travel up as he towers over me. “Let me help you.” His voice is captivating and true, believable and warm. With just those words, I crumble. I loose all the power I’ve ever harvested in my body. I fight and fight, but I loose my ability to hold myself together. I feel myself shaking. He knows. He understands. I yank my hand from his and turn away before I loose complete control of my emotions, my expressions. “I don’t need help.” I say, my voice shaking along with my body. I begin to hurry up the stairs, but I feel him behind me. He’s reaching for me, trying to stop me.

 

“Isabella wait.” He says, his voice still calm. I reach the top step, and begin running full pace down the hall. I cannot let him see me cry, I cannot let him in. I cannot let himself get tangled up with this kind of pain.

 

My eyes begin to water and run. I can hear my heart in my throat, in my ears. Pounding. Not now, not him. His footsteps match mine, and he isn’t slowing down. Why does he care so much? Why is he perusing this?

 

As I reach my door I slam my hand against the knob, jerking violently trying to get it open. It didn’t occur to me that I needed my key. His hands are pulling on mine, reaching up for my face, trying to pull me to his eyes. I only then realized how hard I was crying. “Isabella... shh.. shh...” He was trying to calm me. This near, stranger. I cannot understand why he cares, why he would bother, just... why...

Author's Note

i hope you like it :] tell me if you like/hate/wanna burn ??

Reviews

[Camille K.]

LOVE IT! LOVE IT! LOVE IT!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!
just this: ....and a Coffee Hut tee, means a coffee hut t-shirt?

[Martina]

Love this! Don't have anything else to say but just keep up the good work!

[anneliese]

wow, this was intense. i am looking forward to watching this story progress. great job!!