isabelle

Ryan's study was filled with books and very little furniture. Everything was white, giving it a very aesthetic look. I would have never expected Ryan to be sitting in a room like this.

My face morphed into an expression of amazement when he pulled up the blinds, letting some light enter the room. The large windows showed a beautiful pool, surrounded with plants. The view looked heavenly. Oh, to be swimming there on a warm summer night.

Ryan's voice brought me back to reality. "Would you like to work outside? The weather's good too," he suggested after noticing that I was staring out his window.

Even though the offer sounded really nice, I hated when sunlight fell on my laptop screen, preventing me from seeing it properly due to shadows. "No, here is fine. You've got a gorgous pool," I told him. As if he didn't know already. 

During class on Friday, we did some individual research, trying to find a decent topic for the presentation. By the end of History class, Ryan suggested that we write about how Hitler affected America. 

"So, regarding the Hitler thing you were saying on Friday.." I started and he nodded, indicating that he was listening. "It's a good but pretty basic topic. I was thinking that maybe we could creative around it?"

"What do you have in mind?" Ryan asked, figuring out that I already have an idea.

"America if Hitler didn't exist."

He hummed in response, thinking the topic through. "I like it. America would definitely be more advanced. We can talk about its effect on our country's current economy as well. Nice thinking, Isabelle"

I smiled at him proudly, glad that he liked it. We wouldn't be talking about American History, rather of how an altered course of events in the past could have affected our present. The topic seemed fitting for us. For Ryan, who loved breaking rules and for me, who liked thinking out of the box.

It was going to be an interesting presentation and I was more than happy about it.

Ryan had placed another chair by his desk and said, "Okay this may sound weird but could we work on just one computer? I think it will make things easier and more collaborative. We'll be able to make changes according to each other's preferences while discussing our perspectives," He explained.

"You don't have to explain yourself. It's cool," I told him, taking my notebook out of the bag and placing it on the desk.

We started by searching up the effects of Hitler rule on our country. I noted down all of the major events in my notebook. Once that was done, we tried to sketch out a graph that would indicate the drop in America's economy during Hitler's rule.

The next step was to figure out how to reverse this graph and show the progress of our economy in the absence of aforementioned barbarian. This part, Ryan was good at. As it turns out, he loved mathematics and graphs were where he excelled. 

I couldn't be more grateful because when it came to me, I would make the silliest of mistakes in the subject such as '3+3=9'. I know, it's very disappointing.

While he was working on the graph, I was busy drawing a caricature of Hitler. It looked ridiculous but was fun to draw. I gave him star-shaped sunglasses to add to the humour. Upon finishing it, I clicked a picture and sent it to Ava.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked me after finishing.

"Nothing. You're done already? It looks great. Let's add it to the presentation,"  I prompted, closing my notebook.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you could make the colours work together and stuff."

"Oh, sure," I replied, taking the mouse and editing the graph.

While I was doing so, there was a knock on the door. 

"It's open!" Ryan called out and a lady in her 40s stepped into the room.

"Ryan, food's here. Oh! I didn't know you had a friend over," she said, noticing me.

I stood up to greet her after which Ryan introduced me. "Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Adler" I said, shaking her hand.

"We're working on a History project together, mom. We'll be down in a bit."

When his mother left the room, Ryan asked if I was hungry. I replied with a nod, confirming the presence of rats in my stomach. 

"Aren't you?" I enquired. He hummed in reply when I started tidying the table to make it look like less of a mess.

"Let's go. We'll sort it out later," he said referring to the papers that lay lazily on his desk.

I followed him out the room and  into the dining area. He sat on one of the six chairs that surrounded the fancy looking dinner table. I stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit.

"What are you doing? Sit down," he said while patting the chair beside him.

I seated myself before Ryan's mother came from the kitchen, carrying a big pot in her hands. She placed it in front of us and took a seat herself. The dish looked amazing and smelled good too.

However, I couldn't help but wonder out loud, "Is that chicken?"

"Yes dear, you'll love it. Our friend has a farm where he breeds chicken. Help yourself," she said while handing out a ladle to me.

I hesitated. "Oh, um."

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, noticing my hesitation. 

"I don't eat chicken," I said with a wince.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, dear. I didn't know," Mrs. Adler apologised.

"Please don't be sorry. It's fine. I can just order a burger later," I assured her.

"But you said that you were hungry," Ryan said and I kicked him from under the table as Mrs. Adler's expression saddened.

He seemed to understand why he received the kick and added "We have some pasta from earlier, I could heat it up for you?"

His mom was happy to hear the suggestion and said "Yes, Ryan go do it."

"It's fine, really. Please enjoy your lunch," I insisted hating the idea of someone not eating because of me.

"Come on, let's get ourselves some warm pasta. You'll enjoy it," Ryan said while getting off his seat and extending a hand towards me, not giving me a chance to protest further. 

I realised that there was no point of denying his offer and let him lead me to the kitchen. I rested my back against the counter top as he rummaged through the refrigerator and placed the pasta in a pan over the stove.

"Thank you so much. I'm sorry for being such a bother," I thanked him in a light tone.

"You are not a bother, Isabelle. Don't worry."

~⨯~