Tonight We Drink To Youth

I learned a few things as the days passed with Clare and Isa in our constant company. It’s only been two days but I had Oli to thank for that, if he would have shown no interest in the older sister they probably would have left just as quickly as they came. I would have only had the initial hours to watch Isa, instead my best friend granted me a full fifty seven hours to take in every detail of her.

The gentle brushing of our hands the morning after they first arrived as we both reached for the door to the bathroom made two things clear. First, she had the most beautiful gray eyes I’ve ever seen, if it was true that the eyes are the window to the soul then I saw the whole way through hers and back again in just the three seconds that our eyes made contact. The second thing I learned was that forgetting her after our skin to skin contact would be next to impossible.

I’ve always contained my manly exterior when a beautiful woman was around; I never let it become too obvious if I thought they were attractive. I carried on as usual with my feelings locked inside. Isa brought those feelings out though and made me act like an awe stricken twelve year old experiencing his or her first crush.
Only this wasn’t cute or innocent like a twelve year old would have made it. I actually made a total ass out of myself.

Our hands touched and my brain screamed at me to do something. Smirk and say something smooth and sexy.“Ladies first”

However, smooth and sexy is the exact opposite of everything that happened. As I prepared to speak the saliva in my mouth got lodged in my throat causing me to gag and choke directly in her face. ‘Ladies first’ turned into watery eyes and my esophagus began to retch out of instinct to clear my airway. I had the perfect opportunity to talk to her and it turned into an almost desperate need for the Heimlich maneuver.

I didn’t try to speak to her after that. Her panicked face and the speed at which she entered the bathroom as I was gasping for air and regaining my composure was all the proof I needed. She hated me. Any chance I had with her flew out of the window just like the mucus flew out of my throat.

Watching her from a distance was as good as it was going to get for me.

After my fiasco I stuck with Curtis near the television and watched old reruns of Star Trek as Isa and Kean talked. My jealousy flared as I watched them out of peripheral vision. They laughed and scrolled through their iPods comparing music and showing each other the pictures they had saved.
I have pictures saved on mine, probably better ones than his. If I knew that a stupid piece of plastic and metal and some girly music would have gotten her closer to me then I would have downloaded some Britney Spears and flaunted it in her face too.

When they were both lying on his bed with their legs hanging off and their arms touching it became too much, even for only marginal eyesight. They were even sharing the damn headphones like some married couple, one in her right ear and one in his left. Curtis looked at me like I was insane as I shot out of my chair and stomped out of the room and into the community lounge.

Who knows, maybe I am insane.

The hostel had computers available for us. Since apparently I couldn’t talk to her without a near death experience occurring I did the next best thing. I would get inside her head using the small amount of information I had on her. Maybe I was taking this infatuation a bit far, but I didn’t see it as that. As far as I could tell Isa was my only source of happiness at this point. Before she and Clare walked into the room that night I had every intention of leaving soon. The band meant the world to me but doing absolutely nothing with our lives and living out of just our backpacks without an actual home started to lose its appeal.

Now, inside the very room that I hated only days before, sat the reason that I wanted to stay. When we were famous girls threw themselves at us and practically begged us to do whatever we pleased with them. Fame brought false friends and bad relationships, now that we experienced it all we were all pretty good at reading people before even meeting them. Isa was the only exception; she was the only person that remained a mystery to me.

My first step – searching the book she was reading. Since she barely spoke to anybody besides her sister and Kean, for reasons that I will never understand, she had ample time to read. As far as I could tell she’s already on her third round at reading White Oleander. It has to mean something to her if she’s willing to read it that many times.

”A teenager journeys through a series of foster homes after her mother goes to prison for committing a crime of passion.”
Basically, she’s reading a story about a girl who continues to get more and more fucked up as the chapters continue. Drugs, starvation, anal sex?

That was no help at all. If anything it made Isa Eastham even more of an enigma and made my determination even stronger.