Gentlemen Don't Ask Questions

I swallowed thickly, trying to remain cool and composed as her green eyes bore into mine, but it was hard when my heart was racing and my sweat glands had gone into overdrive. Was she joking? Would I make a move, only to have her laugh in my face?
I was really starting to panic, and I just wish she would have said something to relieve from that misery. I don't know how long we stood there, wordlessly staring at one another, when her front door opened. I jumped, while Isabelle slowly took a step away from me.

"Isabelle, it's past your curfew."

"Sorry," she turned to who I presumed to be her father,
"We ended up not going to the cinema. I guess we lost track of time."

"Who are you?" he turned to face me, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"This is Gerard. Remember I told you about him?"

I could feel my cheeks flushing, wondering what she had said about me. Her dad extended his hand, and I kicked myself when I stalled for a few seconds before I shook it.

"Do you live close by, Gerard?"

"Um...about a twenty minute walk from here, sir."

"I'll give you a lift home," he turned on his heel and went back into the house, closing the door over behind him.

"I can walk-"

"Gerard, if he offered you a ride, just take it. We're not that bad," she grinned,
"Besides, it's past midnight. I know I don't want you walking home."

I gave her a timid smile, awkwardness invading my body as silence enveloped us. Did she still expect me to make a move? Or did she even expect me to make one before her father interrupted us?

"Your dad seemed pretty calm about a boy walking his sixteen year old daughter home," I found myself blurting out, just for the sake of breaking the silence.

"My family's pretty close knitted," she shrugged as she looked towards the front door,
"I tell my parents pretty much everything. He knew it was just you and I going to the cinema tonight. I think he would be pissed if you didn't me home. Thank you for that, by the way."

I shrugged with a small smile, and took a cautious step back from her when her father joined us again. We piled into their car and I told him where I lived. I could see him frowning slightly, before his face was neutral again. I didn't live in the best area of town, especially not when compared to their quiet housing estate.
The usual small-talk ensued, with him asking me if I wanted to go to college, and where I wanted to do my degree. I tried to stay as polite as possible, tried not to let any cuss words slip or say the wrong thing. From what I could see during that car journey, Isabelle was her daddy's little princess. The last thing I wanted to happen was to have him disapprove of me. I knew he probably thought I was as weird as fuck. I guess I just have that dark cloud hanging over me, forever branding me strange.

"Oh, we're having our house warming party next Saturday, Gerard. You should come. Megan's inviting a couple of her friends, and I was going to ask Jessica to come too."

"Oh..." I trailed off, wondering if I would be welcome in their home.

I got the impression that they were your typical American family; perfect house, perfect parents, perfect two daughters. The last thing they needed was me thrown in the middle of it.

"It's not until the weekend, you can tell Isabelle later on in the week if you're able to come or not. If you are, I'll collect you and drop you home. You don't need to worry about getting a lift."

I thanked him and said goodnight. My eyes caught Isabelle's before I got out of the car, and she gave me a small smile. I loved that smile, and years later I'd still think about her when I'd be in a bad mood. She always reserved that little smile for me, it was like her secret signal, and I loved her for it.
I walked down the driveway as they drove off, and pulled my house keys out of my pocket.
Why didn't that family come to town sooner?

++++++

Isabelle never mentioned about asking me to kiss her, and it was killing me. Over the weekend, I was fine about it, almost glad I didn't do it, but then I went back to school on Monday and I had to see her sitting across from me every lunch. It was killing me, not knowing if she was being serious or not. Logic was weighing more on the side of her not meaning it, but that didn't stop me from pondering about it when the two of us were alone together. What would happen if I kissed her during those moments? Would she kiss me back? Or fight me off and never want to speak to me again?
I don't think she even thought twice about it, because she was her usual chirpy self, acting like she hadn't a care in the world.

"We still on for tonight?" she threw her bag down beside me in Art class, the last class of the week,
"Your friend's gig?"

"Sure, if you still wanna go?"

She nodded as she pulled out her satchel, before using it to conceal a book. She had given up on Art after her second week of it, so she mainly spent the class either reading or watching me draw. It's sounds borderline perverted, but I loved it when she watched me. It soothed me.
We didn't speak during the class, I painted and she read her small book. I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye, smiling every time I saw her frown or smile lightly, completely engrossed in the story.

"What are you reading?"

"The Murders in the Rue Morgue."

I stared blankly back at her, expecting her to have said Harry Potter or something.

"Y'know, Edgar Allan Poe?"

"Oh...I've never read any of his stuff. The only story I know is The Raven, and that's just because The Simpson's did it in one of their Halloween episodes."

She laughed as she closed her book over, looking over my shoulder to look at my work.

"I'll give you a lend of some of his books. You'll like him."

The bell went before I could answer her, and she was up like a shot and ramming everything into her rucksack.

"I'll call over to your house at half seven, is that okay?"

"It's a fair enough distance for you to walk, Gerard."

"I have the car at the weekends. I'll collect you."

She nodded before she left me without another word.

++++++

Isabelle's face was always the same any time she listened to music, be it pop, rock, classic, country, you name it. She always looked like she was studying, she always looked so absorbed in the music. She loved lyrics, loved listening to every single word, loved seeing how they were all thrown together, loved feeling the emotion behind them.
That night at the gig was the first time that I had ever seen her listening to music, so I thought she was having a bad time.

"Do you wanna go after this song?" I shouted over the music.

She just shook her head no with a small smile, and turned back to the band, her head gently bobbing with the beat.
It was refreshing being in the small club that night, it being a first that I introduced people to Isabelle, instead of vice versa. A lot of people were drinking, but because she was staying sober, I did too. Soon, everyone was pretty blitzed, and I could feel myself becoming bored.

"Gerard, it's nearly past my curfew."

Some of my friends booed her, but she just replied by flipping them the bird. They all laughed and said goodbye, and that they hoped to see her again soon. I liked that my friends liked her so much, because she was rapidly becoming a big part of my life.
We drove without saying a word to one another, but it was comfortable. I kept my eyes fixed on the road, smiling any time Isabelle turned the radio up and sang along with a song, lowering the volume again before cranking it up at her favourite bit.
The porch light was on, along with one of the front rooms in the house.

"They're up and waiting?"

"Probably watching some old war film," she rolled her eyes, before she lightly tapped her watch,
"We still have five minutes, though."

"What did you think of the band?"

"I loved them. They were so...raw. Are they playing again soon?"

"Probably in a couple of weeks," I smiled, happy that she enjoyed herself.

We slipped into silence again, Isabelle humming along with the radio as she curled a strand of hair around her index. I couldn't help but wonder what her social life was like back in California. Did she go to gigs? Did she have a boyfriend? Did they have sex?
I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I looked away from her. I liked her so fucking much, and it was so frustrating not knowing where I stood.