Her Dad's words keep ringing in her ears: I'm telling you, that kid won't go far in life. Isabelle glances at Ben, who is lying on the grass, his cap pulled over his curls. His arms are folded behind his head, and he is humming along to the tune playing on the speakers. She nudges his arm gently. "Ben?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Do you have, like, a dream?"

Ben sits up slowly and then wears his cap backward, looking at Isabelle strangely. He dodges her question instead of answering, "What's this about?"

"Nothing," Isabelle says defensively. "I was just curious. I mean, I don't really know anything about you even though we're ..." She pauses, not sure of what to say. They see each other almost every day, sometimes talk at school, and spend their Friday and/or Saturday afternoons tending the garden. But are they friends? Not one to be presumptuous, she chooses the term "plant buds."

"Plant buds?" he repeats.

She lifts her head, faking bravado. "Yes, we're plant buds who occasionally share sandwiches under the sun while making conversation about our hopes and dreams with each other."

Mischief outlines his features, and she just knows he's already thinking of a hundred different ways to tease her about it. Before he can get a word in, she asks again, "So, do you have a dream?"

"No, I don't."

"Come on," Isabelle insists. "I know you do. Everyone does. What do you want to be when you get older?"

Ben looks at her in exasperation. "I'll never hear the end of it if I don't answer, huh?"

Isabelle smiles smugly. "Aw, you know me so well."

He releases a long, deep breath and lays back down on the grass. "You are annoyingly relentless, you know that?"

She lays down beside him, a smile gracing her lips when her back touches the soft-blade grass. "I think you mean 'persistent.'"

He chuckles and then after a while, he says, "Okay, fine, I wanted to be an astronomer when I was younger."

"Wanted?"

"Not anymore, I used to, though," he says, looking at the sky. "We lived near the planetarium when I was younger, and Ma used to bring me there all the time. And I would be so pretentious as I 'toured' her around in my neckties and big glasses."

"Aw, little Benjie was a nerd," she teases. "Let me guess, you watched Star Wars on repeat when you were younger."

"I don't say this lightly, but I was obsessed. I think I used to memorize the lines, and every night, I would do a one-man show after dinner."

Isabelle laughs, trying to imagine a younger Ben acting out some scenes from Star Wars. She'll have to ask April later if she had documentary evidence of it. "So, what happened?" she asks.

"Well, I realized that I didn't want to be an astronomer anymore," he replies, his tone changing. There is an edge to his voice that tells her she shouldn't probe deeper.

So, she tries to steer the conversation away by asking, "What else do you want to do with the future?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," he says. "I mean, when you're me, you don't really have a lot of options."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that it feels like wishful thinking to think about what I want to do in the future."

"Because...?"

He turns to her, his eyebrows raised. "You're really making me say it, huh?"

She faces to turn him, as well. "Yes, because you really need to hear yourself right now."

"And what did you think I was going to say?"

Isabelle pauses, not expecting that he was going to pull this card on her. She looks away, refusing to meet his eyes. "Probably something ... something self-deprecating," she sputters.

Ben sighs. "Look, Isabelle, it's just the way things are. Someone with my track record isn't meant to go far."

Her Dad's words come rushing back. I'm telling you, that kid won't go far in life. And before she knows it, unspoken words meant for her Dad this morning begin to spill from her lips.

"Did you know Albert Einstein struggled in school, and teachers thought he was a bad student, too," she says, "But, then, he proves everyone wrong and now, he's a Nobel Prize winner and one of the most celebrated scientists in the century."

"So, are you saying I should be a scientist, too?" he jokes.

Isabelle slaps his arm lightly. "No, I'm saying that you shouldn't be selling yourself short for a future that's not yet even set in stone. It's not decided in advance who's going to be successful or not, so don't box yourself in by saying someone like you won't go far in life. It's defeatist, what you're doing, Ben." She looks at him to see how he reacted to his words only to see him smiling.

"What?" she asks.

He shakes his head, looking away. "Nothing."

She puts a sticky strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Honestly, I thought you'd be mad at me, but why are you smiling?"

"I don't know," he admits, raking his hand through his hair. "I guess it's... refreshing. People usually tip-toe around my feelings, but you're not afraid to step on my toes every now and then."

She raises an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?"

He shrugs, a playful grin on his face, as she rolls her eyes at him.

"Anyway," she says, "I mean it, Ben. I think you're smart and capable enough if you put in the effort, so if you want, I can help you. Like tutoring to raise your grades, but you have to sign up for the after-school tutoring program." Then, she adds, almost shyly, "It has to be documented and put on my record since I'm trying to beef up my CV."

Before he could give her an answer, they hear some dishes clattering in the kitchen, followed by a heavy thud. Ben immediately stands up and runs inside the kitchen, but not before tossing a backward glance at Isabelle and saying that he'll be back in one quick breath.

When Ben comes back, Isabelle sits up and straightens her shoulders, asking "What happened?"

Ben is still out of breath, but he manages to reply, "Ma felt lightheaded, but she's already taken her medicine and laid down. I think she'll be okay."

"That's good."

"Anyway, about what you said," Ben says, sitting beside Isabelle and turning to meet her eyes. "I mean, if it also helps you out, then I'll do it."

She smiles, barely containing her excitement. "We'll start next week." 

—

A/N: Hello! Happy first tenth of March :) 

💡Fun fact, in my second draft (i.e., 'Love Grows' c. 2019), this chapter is originally the eleventh, but since I added a few chapters, it ended up as the thirteenth! But I just wanted to share that that drafting this chapter was a milestone because I'd never written past Chapter Ten before in all of the stories I've written (i.e., Overly Uptight (2014), Love is an Open Door (2014), An F in Cooking/Qualifications for Prince Charming (2015-2017). So, I might actually FINALLY finish a full-length story this year *crossing my fingers*

Anyone else struggled with finishing a story? And if you did (much respect to you!), how?

📢 Double-update today (since I won't be able to update tomorrow!). But again, thank you so much for reading! <3 I hope you're enjoying the recent chapters!