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1124 Words
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DISTRACTIONS
ISABELLA
Three days. Three full days of laughter, sunburn, late nights, and absolutely no complications. It almost felt unreal. Like I had imagined everything before. Like the tension, the confusion, the… pull… had belonged to a different version of me.
This version? She was fine. More than fine. She was thriving.
—
“Walk faster.”
“I am walking fast.”
“You’re dragging.”
“I’m not dragging, I’m pacing myself.”
“You’re being dramatic.” I sighed as Camille grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward through the crowded street.
“This is what you call fun?” I asked. “Being kidnapped in broad daylight?”
“Yes,” she said easily. “And you should be grateful.”
“For what?”
“For me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” We had driven into town early that morning, Camille declaring it a “necessary reset day,” which apparently meant shopping until we lost all sense of financial responsibility. Not that she had much to lose.
“First stop,” she said, pushing open the door to a boutique that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. “Clothes.”
“Camille…”
“No complaints.”
“I wasn’t…”
“You were about to.” I closed my mouth. Because she was right. Again. God, this was exhausting.
An hour later, I was surrounded. Dresses draped over my arm. Shoes lined up like they were auditioning for something. A sales assistant hovering nearby like I was a very important person. Which was ridiculous.
“This one,” Camille said, holding up something dangerously short.
“No.”
“This one,” she said, switching immediately.
“Still no.”
“This one…”
“Camille.”
“What?”
“I’m not wearing half of these.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You came here for a transformation.”
“I came here because you dragged me.”
“Same thing.” I stared at her.She smiled sweetly. I sighed.
“Fine,” I muttered, grabbing the dresses. “But I’m not promising anything.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I already know.”
The dressing room became a battlefield. Fabric. Zippers. Opinions.
“This is too much.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s too tight.”
“That’s the point.”
“It barely covers anything.”
“You have legs. Show them.”
“I regret everything.”
“You’ll thank me later.” I stepped out in one of the dresses, adjusting the hem like that would somehow make it more decent. Camille’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh, you’re getting that.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“You don’t need to. You just need to look good.” I stared at her. She stared back. Unafraid. Unmovable.
“Fine,” I said finally. “But if I pass out, it’s your fault.”
“I’ll carry you. In style.”
———
By the time we left the store, I had more bags than I could reasonably justify. And Camille? She looked like she had just begun. “Next stop,” she said, already moving.
“There’s more?”
“There’s always more.”
“I’m going to go broke.”
“You’re with me. That’s impossible.”
“That’s not how money works.”
“It is today.” I shook my head, but I was smiling. Because somewhere between the arguing and the trying and the ridiculous amount of spending, I felt… light. Genuinely. Like something had unclenched inside me.
—
We stopped for lunch at a small café tucked between two larger buildings, the kind of place that felt hidden and intentional.
“This is nice,” I said, sinking into the chair.
“Everything I do is nice,” Camille replied, reaching for the menu.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here I am, improving your life.” I laughed softly, shaking my head.
“Thank you,” I said after a moment. She looked up, surprised.
“For what?”
“For this,” I gestured vaguely. “For dragging me out. For not letting me… stay stuck.” Her expression softened, just slightly.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“I know.”
———
The food came. The conversation flowed. Easy. Effortless. Normal.
“You seem better,” she said at some point, watching me carefully.
“I am better.”
“No weird mood swings. No disappearing into your thoughts every five minutes.”
“I don’t disappear into my thoughts.”
“You do.”
“Okay, sometimes.”
She smiled. “So what changed?” I hesitated. Because the honest answer? Nothing had changed. Not really. I had just… gotten better at ignoring it.
“I just needed time,” I said instead.
“Mmm.” She didn’t fully believe me. But she let it go.
Later, as we walked back to the car, arms full of bags and sunlight warm against my skinI felt it. That quiet shift. That small, unwanted thought slipping back in. Uninvited. Unnecessary. Unavoidable. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t overwhelming. Just… there. Like a shadow at the edge of something bright. I wondered, briefly, what he was doing. If his meetings were going well. If he… No. Stop.
I tightened my grip on the bags, forcing my focus back to the present. To Camille, who was talking about something ridiculous. To the sound of her voice. To this moment. Because this, This was real. This was safe. This was mine. And whatever else had tried to take root, Didn’t belong here.
Later, alone in my room, I stood in front of the mirror again. Different dress this time. Simpler. Still… new. I studied my reflection. The way I stood. The way I looked. The way I felt. Lighter. Stronger. More in control. At least… That’s what I told myself. Because control wasn’t about never thinking about something. It was about choosing not to act on it. Right?
I exhaled slowly, turning away from the mirror and slipping into bed. Tomorrow would be the same. More fun. More distractions. More distance. And eventually, whatever this was would fade. It had to. Because I wasn’t that girl. The one who ruined things. The one who crossed lines she couldn’t uncross. The one who…my thoughts paused. Just for a second. But not quite untouched. I shut off my brain. I will not let any sinful thoughts ruin the things I planned for myself. And my life.
- Writer
