The Remedy by Suzanne Young

Author:Suzanne Young
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

CHAPTER EIGHT

ISAAC ASKS WHERE I WANT to eat and I recall pictures of us at a place called Pizza Buono. He smiles when I mention it, and turns on the radio as we drive there. I can tell from his movements that he’s nervous, but it’s an excited sort of feeling—not one of dread.

The sun continues to peek out from the clouds, and I suggest we sit outside to take advantage of the weather while it lasts. We grab a table that falls in a ray of sunlight, the entire scene looking hopeful. We sit and a server comes over to take our drink order. I can feel Isaac watching me while I ask for Coke, but when I turn back, he’s staring down at his menu.

I put my elbows on the table, leaning toward him. “Thanks for taking me out today,” I say. “I’m glad you suggested it.”

“Me too.”

The server returns with our drinks, and we ask for more time to look over the menu. Now that I’m here, I’m not very hungry. The girl leaves, and just then the sun dips behind the clouds. Isaac looks up at the sky, frowning.

“I hope it doesn’t rain,” he says. “I checked the forecast and it promised sunshine—at least until later in the day.”

“You checked the forecast?” I ask.

He licks his bottom lip. “Well, yeah,” he responds. “It’d be a mess to get caught in the rain somewhere—especially after last night. I wanted it to be perfect.”

My body warms at his consideration. “That’s sweet,” I say quietly. I almost ask him if he’s always this sweet to me, but I catch myself before I do. I steer us away from flirtation and toward safer topics.

“Remind me,” I say. “What are your plans for after graduation?”

Isaac sips from his soda, and then leans in. I note how much closer we’re sitting to each other now. “Scholarship to UCLA,” he says, trying to be humble but I can see how proud he is. “Right now I’m debating whether I want to major in business or photography.”

“Photography?” I say, honestly surprised. “And wow—those are two very different life plans.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well, one is my mother’s idea, and one . . .” He pauses a moment. “And one is your idea, actually.”

“Oh,” I say, looking down. I put my finger on my cold glass, tracing a line in the condensation. “Those are your pictures on my wall, aren’t they?” I ask softly. I meet Isaac’s gaze, and he nods.

“You liked to find things for me to shoot,” he says. “Those were all places and objects you picked out. I took them for you.”

He loves me so much. Every inch of him reaches for me, wants to wrap me up. It’s overwhelming.

The sun comes out again, and I close my eyes and lift my face toward it, letting it warm my cheeks. He took pictures for me, I think. I should have known he did that. I should have found the journal pages earlier. When I get back home, I’ll read everything.

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