Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephanie Perkins EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Stephanie Perkins
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Fiction about Friendship
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
It’s midnight, it’s sweltering, and I might be high on Vicodin, but that guy –
that guy right over there – that’s him.
The him.
His posture is as familiar as a recurring dream. Shoulders rounded down,
head cocked to the right, nose an inch from the tip of his pen. Absorbed. My
heart swells with a painful sort of euphoria. He’s close, only two tables over
and facing my direction. The café is boiling. The atmosphere is clouded with
bittersweet coffee. Three years of desire rip through my body and burst from
my lips:
“Josh!”
His head jolts up. For a long time, a very long time, he just stares at me.
And then…he blinks. “Isla?”
“You know my name. You can pronounce my name.” Most people call me
Iz-la, but I’m Eye-la. Island without the nd. I erupt into a smile that
immediately vanishes. Ouch.
Josh glances around, as if searching for someone, and then cautiously sets
down his pen. “Uh, yeah. We’ve sat beside each other in a ton of classes.”
“Five classes beside each other, twelve classes together total.”
A pause.
“Right,” he says slowly. Another pause. “Are you okay?”
A guy who looks like a young Abraham Lincoln with a piercing fetish
tosses a single-page laminated menu onto my table.
I don’t look at it. “Something soft, please.”
Abe scratches his beard, weary.
“But no tomato soup, chocolate pudding, or raspberry applesauce. That’s
all I’ve had to eat today,” I add.
“Ah.” Abe’s mood lightens. “You’re sick.”
“No.”
His mood darkens again. “Whatever.” He snatches up the menu. “Allergic
to anything? You kosher? Vegetarian?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll have a look in the kitchen.” And he stalks away.
My gaze returns to Josh, who is still watching me. He looks down at his
sketchbook, and then back up, and then back down. Like he can’t decide if
we’re still having a conversation. I look down, too. I’m getting the
increasingly alarming notion that if I keep talking, tomorrow I might have
something to regret.
But…as if I can’t help it – because I can’t, not when I’m around him – I
glance up. My veins throb as my eyes drink him in. His long, beautiful nose.
His slender, assured arms. His pale skin is a few shades darker from the
summer sun, and his black tattoo peeks out from underneath his T-shirt
sleeve.
Joshua Wasserstein. My crush on him is near unbearable.
He looks up again, too, and I blush. Blushing. The curse of redheads
everywhere. I’m grateful when he clears his throat to speak. “It’s strange, you
know? That we’ve never run into each other before.”
I leap in. “Do you come here often?”
“Oh.” He fidgets with his pen. “I meant in the city? I knew you lived on
the Upper West, but I’ve never seen you around.”
My chest tightens. I knew that about him, but I had no idea that he knew
that about me. We attend a boarding school for Americans in Paris, but we
spend our breaks in Manhattan. Everybody knows that Josh lives here,
because his father has one of the New York seats in the United States Senate.
But there’s no reason for anyone to remember that I live here, too.
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