I’m not expecting Trevor’s hands to pull me around and frame my face. He looks at me earnestly, the way he always does, his voice the same. “If you run, Red, Iwillchase you.”
I can’t tell if it’s a promise or a threat. Either way, I hold it close.
I find my voice with some effort. “‘The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.’”
His lips twitch as he backs up slowly, his hands falling away. “Emerson.”
I nod. “You’re going to do great, Trevor. You’ll be wildly successful, if not at the start then one day. I just know it.”
“When that happens, I hope you’re there to tell me you called it.”
Trevor turns the corner, walking out of sight. His meaning doesn’t click until minutes later.
He hopes I’m there. In his future.
I hope so, too.
Chapter 24
Trevor
I decide to enact my plan early so Isaac doesn’t get suspicious.
Step one is something small. A single poppy I bought from a florist near campus, the bright red color reminding me of Isaac. I set it on our table in the library, along with a note labeled “Red,” knowing he stops here in between his classes on Tuesdays.
I don’t wait around, but Isaac’s text arrives not long after.
Red: I refuse to find you charming.
Red: Thanks, Bruiser.
Step two is dinner with my uncle later that night.
Isaac arrives with a smile and a flush, a bottle of red wine in his hand that he unceremoniously thrusts in front of my face. “I remembered this time. Here. We’re not going to talk about the flower. It was sweet, and I put it in water, and I swear to God my cheeks are red because it’s cold outside. So just…zip it, all right?”
“All right,” I answer around a chuckle, taking the wine so Isaac can remove his jacket.
“Is that Isaac?” my uncle calls.
Emboldened by his previous visit, Isaac snatches the wine back and heads toward the kitchen. I follow with a grin on my face.
We cook stuffed peppers tonight, one of my personal favorites. Isaac does his best to help prepare the filling, but it’s clear he still feels uncertain in the kitchen, going slow even while shredding cheese. His smile is wide, though, as my uncle chats his ear off, making sure to include plenty of embarrassing stories from my childhood.
I don’t mind much.
After dinner, Isaac joins me downstairs. He sits atop a tattoo chair, legs swinging as I go through my usual cleaning routine. He catches me up on simple things, everyday things, like the sandwich he ate for lunch—turkey on rye—and the argument Todd and Lumi had about whether orange is more similar to brown or red.
It’s so perfect I ache with it.
It doesn’t take me long to finish disinfecting. Once my hands are washed, I step close to Isaac. He parts his legs, making room for me, his fingers snagging my belt loops.
“Do you want to stay tonight?” I ask, not expecting him to say yes but wanting to offer all the same. I brush his nose with my own.
“I didn’t bring any of my stuff,” he says, not quite an answer.
“Up to you. You can use my toothpaste and a pair of my sweats if you want.”
“I’d have to get up pretty early to swing home before going to the library.”
