After Lily and I get back from the dress shop, I hear a woman giggling in the living room. I feel Lily tense beside me, and before I know it, she's stomping into the living room, her eyes filled with rage.
"Who is this?!" She screeched as I timidly walked into the room.
"A friend of mine," Ismael told her, not understanding why she's so angry.
Lily dragged him from the living room and into the front room, while I stayed in the living room and introduced myself to the girl. After we introduced ourselves, an awkward silence filled the room, so I walked into the kitchen and made the two of us some tea. That's when I heard Lily and Ismael's conversation.
"That is the fourth girl you've been with since the last time you sent a letter to me, which was last year," Lily scolded.
"Your point?" Ismael asked, "There wasn't any chemistry and she wasn't even my girlfriend."
"But you were going to ask her out on a date, right?" Lily questioned.
"There was a possibility," he admitted, "But only if we had chemistry, which we didn't-"
"You need to take a break," Lily said, "You need to take a break and figure out what you want in a relationship because I can't help you if you don't." Help him with what? I wondered.
"I do know what I want," Ismael argued.
"Oh really?" Oh no, I know that tone. Lily is about to rip him a new one. "Last I checked, you've dated a liar," she pointed out, "You've also been with a girl who just wanted someone to talk to and nothing else."
"I've also been with you!" Ismael shouted in frustration.
"What's going on?" Lydia, the girl in the living room asked.
"No clue," I answered, which was partially true. The water began to boil so I took the silver, cast iron tea kettle off of the stove and placed the tea bags into it.
"I know, " Lily calmly confirmed, "That's why I'm telling you to take a break and figure out what you want in a partner."
"Fine," Ismael reluctantly agreed before walking heavily up the steps.
Lily came into the living room glaring at Lydia. "You need to leave," she said. Lydia nodded and left the house without protest.
"What's going on, why did you kick her out?" I asked my best friend. It was rude to do so from the house that I grew up in.
"Don't worry about it," she replied harshly.
"Uh, I will worry about it because I live in this house and pay rent for it too." I couldn't believe it. What would drive her to kick a guest out and not explain why?
"Trust me, I'm saving both you and Ismael the heartache," she said, "Oh, and because he has a lot of self-discovering to do." She brushed a few strands of my hair out of my face before walking towards the front door.
"And where are you going?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Out," she replied, closing the front door behind her. I rolled my eyes and started cleaning up the kitchen and living room.
When I was done, I went to grab my story only to find it missing. My heart started racing in panic. I knew I placed my story in the upper left drawer when I worked on it last. I began frantically searching the rest of the kitchen drawers and then the ones in the living room. After having no success, I raced up the stairs and burst into the room that belonged to the only person who knew where I put my story.
"Where is it?" I demanded, closing the door behind me.
"What?" Ismael asked innocently as he sat down on his bed.
"You know what, where is it!" I yelled.
"I'm afraid I don't," Ismael answered with a confused expression, but his amber eyes told a different story.
"Where is my story, Ismael?!" I furiously shouted. As soon as he saw how upset I was his answer changed. He got up from his bed and walked over to his desk. He opened one of the drawers and took out the stack of papers that was my story.
"It's right here," he said handing the papers to me. I snatched the papers out of his hand and turned on my heel.
"I didn't mean any harm," he said from behind me. "I just really wanted to read it and see if it would help clear my head.
I sighed and turned around to face him. "And did it?" I asked.
"It did," he said sincerity in his voice. "I'm sorry I took it without asking." I narrowed my eyes trying to see if he was lying, but he wasn't. His eyes were filled with guilt and his voice was apologetic.
"I'm glad it helped you." I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. I needed to clear my head myself, so I walked into my room, closed the door, and locked it. Hopefully, a certain someone has the decency to knock before entering. I sat at my desk, took out a pen, and began projecting my thoughts and emotions through my characters.
After a while, I heard someone slip a piece of paper under my door. I got up from where I sat and walked over to the folded up paper. I unfolded it and read what it said:
I'm truly sorry for taking your story and reading it without your permission. I hope you can forgive me for it. But I will say that I enjoyed it very much. You are an excellent writer. Your character development and use of detail are on point. You should be proud of yourself. I hope one-day others will witness your talent and hard work. But above all, I hope that you know that I will be there to support you, forever and always.
I couldn't help but smile at his kind words. He's definitely a charmer, but I'm sure he's said the same thing to other girls. I folded up the note and slid it into one of my desk drawers. I looked at the time and saw that I had a couple of hours before I had to start making dinner, so I laid down on my bed and fell asleep.