Moving On

Moving On

A Story by Bhavana Uppalapati
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The story of a girl and a boy when expectations don't turn into reality.

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Moving On

“Cheers.” I clink my rum-filled shot glass with Isaac’s pint of beer. My stomach gurgles when I swallow the spiced alcohol.  I shut my eyes and cough. Isaac’s pale face gleams red in the dim bar.

            I order my second drink: a mojito. I peek at Isaac as he watches the band perform. Ragged breaths escape my mouth.

            “You know,” I start, “there’s a reason I wanted to drink today.”

            “‘Cause you just turned twenty?” Isaac asks.

            “No. . .” I mutter. “I�"I still really like you.” I peek at Isaac and chew at the insides of my cheek.

            Isaac smiles. “You had to get drunk to tell me that?” He pauses. “I already know.”

            I shrug and grin. “I’m not brave enough without the alcohol.”

I wait for an answer. Isaac stares at the bartender.

            “You have to move on,” Isaac replies.

          My eyebrows furrow. Hot tears trickle down my cheek before I can process his words. I turn away and focus on the shelves of alcohol in front of me. The colored spotlights tint the bottles in greens, blues, and reds. The bottles appeal to me more than the pity I’ll see on Isaac’s face. The bartender catches my eye with one eyebrow raised. I test her stare. I bet she deals with wailing, fussy teenagers everyday.

Isaac tugs my arm and turns me to face him. He holds my chin with one hand, and uses a Kleenex to wipe my tears.

            “You’re my best friend�"the only girl that I’ve gotten close to in such little time�"that’s why you’re special. But I don’t think of you as my girlfriend anymore,” Isaac mutters.

            Behind us, the band belts out lyrics to Can’t Stop the Feeling by Justin Timberlake. There’s a buzz in my ears. My emotions twist the upbeat song until it sounds empty and unhappy. I nod and my lips quiver.

            Isaac shuts his eyes. He shakes his head. “You don’t have to pretend you’re
okay.”

“Why did you ask me to sleepover today?” I snap.

            “Because. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

            “Friends sleepover at each other’s places? In the same bed? Boy and girl? Especially
when they used to date?”

            “It’s your twentieth birthday. I thought you would like to spend the night over.” Isaac
half-shrug.

            I shake my head and stare at the bartender again. She pushes her hair behind her ears as she pours alcohol into lined shot glasses.

“I don’t care if we stay best friends. I’m fine with how we are now. I just had to tell you. Just because I don’t tell you, doesn’t mean I don’t feel it,” I explain.

            “You did the right thing. I don’t blame you,” Isaac reassures me.

“I just want to know if you still like me. I won’t ask you for anything else.”

“I don’t. Not like that. Not anymore.”  

My lips tremble and tears pool in my eyes again. I grab my phone out of my pocket and scroll to the chat log with my best friend.

“Read this.” I slip my phone to Isaac and lay my cheek on the bar counter. The counter’s cold surface soothes me as I wait. I close my eyes and almost fall asleep.

A few moments later, I push my head up and grab my phone back. I try to focus on the screen. A block of words stares back at me, but a few lines pop out. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m falling in love with him. But I’m not sure, because I don’t know what love is.”

“F**k,” I mutter. My face flushes.

Isaac blinks at the shelves of alcohol and chews on his lips.

“You weren’t supposed to read that. Forget it. That’s not. . . I don’t know. . . I’m not sure,” I mumble.

Isaac nods. His face is blank. There’s a moment of silence after the band finishes their song.

            “Maybe I’m not getting my point across. I get why we broke up. There’s no future for
us. My parents would never agree, and I get that. But there’s so much more time till any of that happens. I’m only twenty. Why can’t we continue being us?” I say. I don’t know if I’m asking or begging.

            Isaac stares hard at a spot on the counter. “It took me a long time to get over you. It’s
going to be even harder if we pursue this relationship again.”

            I glare at Isaac. He’s right. I know he’s right.

            “Tell me about that," I say, "how you got over me."

            “Okay, let’s get out of here first.” Isaac pulls out some cash and pays the bartender.
I swing on my jacket and follow him outside. I hold in my breath as we pass a group of smokers. Isaac, who is a few inches taller than me, walks twice as fast. I scurry behind him to keep up.

            “You’ll find someone else. Someone who will be better than me.” Isaac grunts.

            I don’t reply. Break-up speeches are so unoriginal.

            “What if I don’t want anyone else?” I mutter.

            I shiver frantically. My thin, unzipped jacket flies in the night air. We walk towards his apartment: a block away from the bar. Isaac removes his jacket and places it around my shoulders. I wince. His actions remind me of the last year when he meant what he said.

“Come shopping with me. You know me best.”

“Let’s go for a drive.”

“Get home safe.”

“Take a deep breath. You’ll do great on your test.”

“Let’s have lunch.”

“Can I hug you?” I whisper.

            Isaac hesitates. He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. I clump my fists around his shirt, dig my nails into his back, press my face into his chest, and let my tears soak his shoulder.

            “I’ll always be here with a shoulder for you to cry on,” Isaac mutters.

            Cliché again. Why can’t he say something new?

            Isaac lets go too soon. I stumble back, wipe my tears with my sleeve, and walk beside him.

            “Tell me how you got over me,.” I say.

            Isaac rubs his chin. “When we broke up, I didn’t know what to do. I missed you. A lot.
Maybe that’s why I avoided you. I didn’t think I’d get over you if I didn’t distance myself.”

            “Well, that wasn’t a good tactic. Especially when you promised me nothing would
change.”

            Isaac flinches. “When that didn’t work, I went online and talked to strangers. I told them our story and asked them for advice. That’s how I learnt how to move on.”

         I stare at Isaac in awe. My lips freeze because I don’t know what
to say.

            “Can we walk faster? I’m freezing.” Isaac hugs himself and shivers.

            We cross the road and arrive outside his apartment. “You’ll probably say no, but I
still want to ask you this. . . . Can I kiss you? One last time?” I avert my eyes.

            Isaac scratches his head. “That’s probably not a good idea. You’re going to regret it
tomorrow.” His keys jingle as he turns to unlock the door.

            “I probably won’t move on. I like you too much for that.” My head wobbles and I glare at the ground.

            Isaac whips around, grabs my cheeks with his icy hands, and presses his lips to mine. My eyes widen. My heartbeat rings in my ears. Then, I snake my hands behind his neck and tangle my fingers in his locks of hair. He kisses me like we were still together.

Isaac pushes me back and my head hits the brick wall with a thud.

“Ow!”

His lips attack mine, anxious and hasty.

Isaac pulls away. His face pales.  

I lean my head against the wall. “You hit my head,” I mutter.

            “Oh, did I?” Isaac reaches behind me and rubs the back of my head. “Oops, sorry.”

            We don’t talk about the kiss. Later, I slip into his bed and wrap the blanket around me. “You’re not gonna avoid me tomorrow, right?” I murmur into the darkness.

            Isaac doesn’t reply.

        ***

            I wake up to see my hand on Isaac’s waist, my head on his chest, and my fingers tangled with his. Isaac stares at the ceiling and rubs circles into my palm. I stiffen. Isaac turns to glance at me.

            “I thought you said you didn’t like me,” I whisper.

            Isaac moves closer. My face reddens and heat spills over my body. I swallow hard. Isaac pecks me on the lips and pulls back. “I don’t like you. But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss this.”

My stomach curls. My mind goes numb.

            “Friends with benefits. Just for now,” he whispers.

            My eyes become unfocused. Isaac kisses me again, but I don’t resist. 

© 2016 Bhavana Uppalapati


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Added on October 23, 2016
Last Updated on December 3, 2016

Author

Bhavana Uppalapati
Bhavana Uppalapati

Mississauga, Canada



About
Hello everyone! My name is Bhavana and I am 20 years old. I've been writing fiction since I was 14, but I'm only beginning to learn how to write properly now. I love writing fiction because it takes m.. more..

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