Beautiful Stranger Ch. 01

There were tears welling up in my eyes as the lights began to come on one by one. I had told myself I wouldn't cry but like always I had broken that promise. Michael had told me over and over how he couldn't believe I cried every time, even when I knew what would happen at the end. Nothing would have changed. The main character inevitably died at the end while her true love lost the remaining of his soul by her bedside.

But what was even more unbelievable was that each time Michael watched the movie with me. And every time he too fought back the urge to cry. While he would never admit this to me, I was more than sure that I was right.

We came to the same movie theater each week for a month until finally the movie theater shut its doors for good. The chartreuse glow slowly faded after that and nothing was left by the tattered posters that had never been taken down. From that day on I walked by hoping that it were not true and I'd see the words Coming Soon or Now Playing displayed in big bold letters. But of course this did not happen, because as always nothing I wanted ever went the way I had imagined it would. So instead I simply went by remembering the good times and wishing for what would never be.

It took me ten minutes to get to his house which was a record for me. Not because he lived far from me but because I was easily distracted. At times I would see something that would catch my eye and had to take the time to admire it, even if it was the most obscure object. Once it was simply a wagon that had been left in a field and had been overrun with weeds. Michael told me that it was because I had such a schizophrenic mind. To which I kindly punched him in the arm.

As I stopped in front of his gate I looked up to see that he was on the porch staring back at me. His golden blonde hair was slightly messed up like he had been running his hands through them. His green eyes stared a hole into me and for the first time ever I noticed how absolutely beautiful he was. In the eighteen years that we had been friends I had never once imagined that I would be attracted to him. After all he was Michael. My Michael.

He was wearing his usual, faded blue jeans and a t-shirt that had a picture of some random rock band. When my eyes finally reached his again I noticed that he had a slight smirk on his face. And at that moment I couldn't help but smile at him. I quickly stepped through the gate that separated us and walked the short distance towards him and up the stairs that followed. Before I could say anything he simply turned around and walked through the door, which as always was my cue to follow him.

His father sat in his usual chair staring blankly at Jeopardy; quietly trying to guess the answers. All of which he always got incorrect, but this did not discourage him from trying. The living room was small and only held a small couch, the television, and of course the infamous chair. The dining room was the next room that we had to walk through to get to his bedroom. In all the years that I had known him, never had his father had an issue with us being in his room alone.

It's only Isabelle. Only Isabelle...that was all I was to anyone.

As soon as the thought entered my head he had opened his bedroom door and was walking through it. He didn't wait for me to close the door as he sat on his bed and took out a CD book full of movies. This had become our new routine since the MegaPlex had closed. I slowly eased the door shut and walked towards his bed but for the life of me I couldn't make myself sit down beside him. Instead my heart began to flutter and my palms began to get clammy.

It was at the exact moment that he looked up at me with a quizzical expression and patted the spot beside him. I simply nodded but still did not move. I was cemented to the ground and nothing was going to allow me to move. Not even him. Or maybe it was him that made me stay so grounded in this very spot. As the words floated through my mind I heard the faint sound of my name in the distance.

Again I smiled at him as he reached over to his television and slipped the movie into his DVD player. He had taken off his shoes and his shirt. Now he was only in his faded blue t-shirt, and I felt my throat close a little. I was finding that it was hard to breathe with him that way. And even though he couldn't see it, I began to blush. His tanned skin was covering his very noticeable six-pack. He looked for all intents and purpose like a Greek god.

What was going on with me? Why all of a sudden did I find that I was bashful around him? When just weeks ago I had looked at him as if he were my brother. His blonde hair hung loosely just above his shoulders and the dimples in his cheeks began to show when I noticed that he was smiling at me.

"Izzie, why are you still standing there?"

"I—I...um"

"Well come on. Spit it out. I'll even help you," he said with a chuckle.

"I was abducted by aliens and now I can't sit," he started.

"I saw a spider and it's going to kill me if I sit down."

Then without hesitation he smirked and said, "I can't sit down because I think your mad sexy and I'd probably jump you." And then he began to laugh as if it was the funniest joke he had ever told. He hadn't noticed that I had begun to blush or that I had turned my back to him.

"Wait wait....I --"

"I have to go," I finished, and without waiting for him to say anything I made my way swiftly towards his door. I hadn't noticed him following me until I made it to the porch and felt him grab my arm. I wanted to turn towards him but I knew that once I did he would see the tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't explain what was happening. Only that his last statement had struck a little too close for me and I had to get out of there before I suffocated. But once I felt his hand grab me the tears had automatically started to flow. I was quickly becoming a blubbering idiot.

"Izzie.  What’s with you?"

"I—I don't know."

"Look at me," he whispered, still holding my arm.

When I didn't look at him immediately he pulled me close to his chest and leaned forward to place his mouth close to my ear. I felt my body stiffen at the closeness of our bodies and I could swear he felt it too. I wanted to run away from him. So fast it would make his head spin and leave him asking what the hell had just happened. But instead I stayed there, letting him hold me to him while I tried to quiet the sobs that were now coming from me. At that moment his hand stilled on my shoulders and he leaned his head down.

"Why are you crying," I heard him whisper in my ear.

"I'm—not," I blubbered.

"Yes, you are," he whispered, not moving his mouth from my ear. He stayed there, patiently waiting for my response. But for the life of me I didn't have a logical answer to give him, everything I could think of seemed to not make sense.

"I—God, you must think I'm an idiot."

"Never.  Izzie, you're anything but," he said slowly turning me to face him.

"No Mike. I don't want you to see me like this," I half screamed jerking my body away from him.

"I've seen you cry hundreds of times Izzie," he responded.

"But this is different," I whispered back.

"How?"

"How?" I repeated. And then all the ways how flashed in my mind. Like a kaleidoscope of pictures circling my memory. Because, I had never thought of him as anything but my friend, that's why. Because I felt like I could get lost in his eyes and stay there forever. Because for the first time in eighteen years I had realized that I, Isabelle Jones, was in love with my best friend.

"How?" he asked again.

"I don't know how. It just is," I answered.

"Well I don't accept that answer Isabelle!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" I screamed back.

"Because you're holding something back from me. I'm your best friend. You should be able to tell me anything."

"Not this."

This time he didn't let me pull away from him. He spun me around and made me face him. His eyes were a hunter green. Much darker than they normally were when he was his fun loving, easy going self. They pierced through me and all I could see were questions. A myriad of questions that I could not answer at this time.

He wanted to know why I had walked out on him. Why I was crying. But I couldn't very well tell him it was because I loved him. It was then that I saw his gaze soften and his eyes lighten. There was a slight smirk on his face and I instantly began to melt. His hand had come up to brush the remaining tears away and then he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

I couldn't help the gasp that escaped or the moan that inadvertently followed. He was causing things in me that I never knew existed. When he didn't let go I began to move away from him, but he held me close to him again. He had slowly begun to flutter kisses towards my ear when he stopped.

"Isabelle..."

"Yes," I heard myself squeak.

"Come back inside."

"I can't," I whispered against his neck as a whole new set of tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"But I want you to," he said so low I almost couldn't hear him. And without warning he took my earlobe in his mouth and began to lightly nibble. My hands were now pressed against his bare chest trying without success to push him away from me. But as soon as he released my ear and dropped his attention to my neck I slowly found myself losing this battle. My body responded to him as if he had done this to me thousands of times. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind another one shot it down.

What was he doing?

"Izzie, you don't know what you do to me," he groaned.

"Michael..." I said slowly forgetting the next thing I wanted to say.

It was at that moment that he slowly took my earlobe in his mouth again. This time nibbling a little bit longer than before. His hands slowly traveled down do my butt and stayed there for a second before he gave it a light squeeze. Another moan escaped my mouth and I wanted to scream at my body for responding to him like this. But once that thought popped into my head it was suddenly gone at the sound of his voice.

"Now why were you crying," he whispered against my neck.

"I can't—"

"You can't what? Tell me? You can Izzie. You can tell me anything."

"Mike, this isn't the kind of thing that you just blurt out. Hell it's not even the kind of thing you realize until it's too late. And I can't. I just can't."

"What Izzie? What can't you do?" he asked me as he kissed the side of my neck again and began to slowly move his hands up my back. "You can't tell me how you feel? Because I think I know."

"But you don't," I strained to say. Only with his hands moving over my body it was hard to comprehend anything but what he was doing. I tried harder to think of the subject at hand but all I could think about were HIS hands.

"Isabelle, I love you."

As the words floated towards my ears I felt my heart stop. I couldn't possibly have heard him correctly. But then it dawned on me, Michael and I had told each other we'd loved the other several times. He loved me like he loved his dad. He loved me like he loved playing basketball. But at this moment the sound of the words made me hope for something more. It wasn't until he continued that I felt myself spiraling out of control.

"I've loved you since we were seven. There's nothing I won't do for you."

And without a moment to contemplate those words he kissed me. Not the kind of kisses friends give to one another. The soul shattering, mind blowing, hold onto something because you just my fall kind of kisses. It felt like hours before we came up for air. His skin was flushed and his breathing was slightly labored. I realized at that moment that he was still holding onto to me, pressing me to his chest. But it was the words he said next that frightened me the most. The words no one had ever said to me.

"Isabelle Jones, I'll love you till the day I die."

My heart jumped for joy and broke at the same time. There were things about me that I had never told him. Things that I knew would be a deal breaker. He wouldn't want me once he found out that I couldn't be with him. It wouldn't be fair. And I couldn't give him false hope only to break his heart later when I knew I'd never be able to repair it. No I would just have to stop it before it started. I couldn't let him love me.

"Izzie...say something," he whispered.

I hadn't noticed that his head was by my ear again. I could feel his breath there and I wanted so much for him to say he loved me again. But what I wished even more was to be able to say those words back.

"I—I can't Michael," I heard myself say.  "I can't love you."

"But you can. You do."

"I don't," I said shaking my head as I backed away from him.

"Isabelle, don't say that."

"Tomorrow this will all be like a dream. You'll forget we had this conversation and we'll laugh and laugh.

And without waiting for him to respond, I did just what I had been planning to do from the beginning.

I ran.