Making Moves

who: Isabelle and Thom
where: MSHS
when: early afternoon

There were some days that Isabelle really, really, really hated that the best way to get what she wanted was through cheerleading. Today was one of those days. Of course with football season fast approaching its end, cheerleading season was geared up for it's final competitions. And of course the MSHS cheer squad thought they were going to win it all at one of the local competitions and were putting in extra practices on Saturday mornings to be ready for it. Too bad they didn't stand a chance, but they had no idea and Isabelle had been forced to fake cheeriness, even though she was still worn out from sneaking into the campus party the night before to see Thom's band play.

Thom's band who'd been the topic of conversation for most of the girls all morning. Isabelle had assumed something had gone down after their set because the guys didn't join in on the party, or weren't behind stage cleaning up their equipment right away. In the end Isabelle had to leave before spotting him, knowing she had a small window that Medea could cover for her being out so late. When she got to practice though, the girls were all a flutter about how the boys had been offered a record deal and they were leaving this weekend to get things sorted out. Isabelle had listened closely then, wondering what that meant for her with both Isaac and Thom leaving town. Only the rumor was Thom wasn't going. He'd promised his mother he'd go to college and now his friends were leaving him. If that was the case, then things got even more interesting for Isabelle than before. It meant Thom was more than available.

The need to re-address her strategy had helped keep Isabelle sane through practice as the girls continued to do the routine over and over again, not once Isabelle noted without someone screwing up. Practice came to a depressed halt when some ditz managed to drop Isabelle during a stunt, which left a pretty hefty sore spot on her leg that would likely bruise up nicely. Frustrated, but feigning exhaustion, Isabelle waited until the squad was gone before finally shoving her pom-poms in her bag, pulling her coat tight around her and leaving the school.

Thom had needed to get out of the house - really, really needed. His mom had understood instantly why he wasn't going, and nothing at all was said about it, though she'd stayed home from work for support. And a good thing too - Mrs St James had come round at one point during the morning, and Thom had been able to hear the discussion about how Thomas wasn't going because he'd promised to go to college and Ashbelle was fully supportive of that decision and if that was Thomas' choice then she thought it was the right one instead of going and chasing fame and fortune but no there was absolutely no reason that Isaac shouldn't go and if that was what was right for him then of course all the St James family should support him in that and children had to find their own way in life and it would all work out in the end and Isaac was a mature and responsible young man now and he didn't need Thomas looking out for him and New York would help him grow and mature even more she was sure. Even in the midst of his depression, Thom had been impressed at how deftly his mother had handled the woman.

But still, there was no avoiding everything that was going on. Thom had gone round to see Isaac that morning (avoiding his parents), but there was only so long you could be happy for a guy - especially when that guy knew you were miserable, and why. And Thom knew that his presence was making Isaac feel guilty on what should have been the best day of his life. So, in the end, Thom had taken his leave, collected his acoustic from the basement and headed over t the school. He'd found the janitor and asked him if the guy would unlock one of the music rooms for him, giving him a story about having a practical exam coming up and how his mom had guests over and wouldn't let him practice at home. Ashbelle wasn't the only one who could pin a good story when she needed to. The guy had unlocked the nearest room to the exit for him, ground floor, and given him strict instructions to come find him when he left. Thom was good for that, and he'd settled down to having the place to himself for the day, sitting by the window, head down over his guitar as he'd started in on pieces that all ended up coming out melancholy.

Isabelle was determined to avoid everyone. She was feeling rotten and entirely not interested in dealing with anyone, but she heard the chords drifting down the hallway as she'd maneuvered through the building to leave out a different door, one that kept her inside as long as possible since she would have to walk home. Curious if it was really him or just her imagination she followed the sound, down the music hall and until she found the source. She found the door to the last room on the hall cracked and positioned herself in the door way, spotting Thom in there working hard, and seeming too focused to have heard her coming.

She pushed the door open a little bit more so she'd be visible when he looked up and just waited, either for a pause in the music or for him to come out of his reverie. While she waited, she watched. Noticing the tone of the music, wondering if it was directly related to how he felt or, like he said, he was just writing something that anyone would relate to.

He didn't notice her at first. He wasn't expecting to be interrupted and he'd entirely immersed himself in his music. He was staying away from his own stuff today. That was the last thing he really wanted to play right now, all things considered. He'd gone few a few different phases since he'd sat down, but right now he was playing old stuff, a mix of the Beatles and The Who, a few other classics thrown in.

Eventually, though, he noticed the feet by the door out of the corner of his eye and followed them up to Isabelle's face, slowing and then stopping, the flat of his palm against the string. "Hey," he said, with an upnod that doubled as a way to get his long hair out of his eyes.

"Hey you," she answered, with a slight incline of her own head. Her voice was intentionally soft and innocent sounding and it gave her an air of sweetness. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help at least seeing where the music was coming from. Making sure it wasn't just in my head."

Thom shrugged a shoulder. "Not in your head," he confirmed. "Just messing about. How's it going - didn't really expect to see anyone on a weekend," he explained, feeling the need to justify his presence.

"Cheerleading practice," she offered, pointing out her gym bag by lifting it off her shoulder and setting it on the floor. "We've got a competition in two weeks so it's crunch time." Isabelle took a small step into the room, even though he hadn't invited her in. "You were the topic of conversation at practice today though. Well your band more than anything. Is it true you're leaving us for the glamorous rockstar life?" Although her words were happy and implied that everyone else was excited for him, her face said something else. It seemed as if she was sad about the prospect of him leaving.

Right - he should have known that nothing would stay secret around here for long. "No. Well - yes, kinda, but no," he said, struggling for an answer for that one. "The band's going, but I'm not," he added, after a moment. God, he'd have to tell this one time and time again, wouldn't he? He'd have to get used to it, he supposed. "And I don't know about the glamorous rockstar life - most people don't make it anyhow, you know. Just a pipe dream, really," he added. Which felt like a betrayal of his friends and everything he'd wanted, but he needed a reason - more than one - for staying behind.

"I think just getting a record deal makes it a little less than your standard pipe dream. And I think you've got more talent than the average wannabe. Or you seemed to last night." Isabelle continued moving into the room, giving the door a light absent minded push as she moved in, letting it fall back to just being cracked open. "So you aren't leaving then? Is it bad if I think that's a good thing?"

Thom raised an eyebrow. "If you do, then you're possibly the only one, aside from my mom," he told her. At least he wouldn't have the endure another set to like with Kaysen last night. He shrugged. "Anyway, a record deal doesn't guarantee success - they're gonna have to work damn hard, but I'm sure they'll do it," he added, trying to balance a measure of doubt that might help explain his decision with wanting to support his friends as they went off to live his dream.

"It's not that I don't think you do it, or don't think you'd be really successful or awesome as a rockstar. And if you were going then I'd be happy for you, but since you aren't? It means we have more time to get to know each other." Most of what she said was true, so it rang more genuine than usual. She'd been demoralized at the prospect of Thom leaving, taking away her newest project and leaving her with just the collection of brainless jocks to keep her entertained. She would have wound up trying to convince Medea to consider a change of location.

Thom quirked a half-smile. That was nice to hear, though he wondered if she was just interested in him for the associated glory - even if he wasn't going. Then again, he'd been unsure about her and her motives before - he knew her type too well. He knew that was a gross generalisation of her type, but there was a reason people tended to go with the gross generalisations for the popular cheerleader type. All too often, they were right.

"Was that almost a smile?" Isabelle flashed him a grin in return, not the full beam but one that expressed how pleased she was to see him smile. In some way it was perfect he'd had his dreams yanked out from underneath him, it would make him far more vulnerable than before. Not to mention there had to be a much better reason he was staying than his "it's a silly pipe dream" theory. Which meant she had one more thing to figure out. This was going to be a fun game.

That got a small laugh. "Maybe - you so surprised?" he asked her, cocking an eyebrow - a move which caused his hair to fall back into his eyes again. He didn't try and push it back, more than used to it.

Isabelle let her cheeks flush just slightly, enough to be either blamed on the laugh or the way his hair fell in his face. "Perhaps a little. There's no denying almost every girl at this school wants you to smile at her. I don't think I really understood it before." Moving a little closer she pushed herself up to sit on top of a table in the room across from him, her feet swinging a little.

Thom gave her a look. "Now, now, Isabelle - that's a gross exaggeration," he told her, admonishing lightly. "I'm sure there's plenty of girls who haven't given me a second glance and I know quite a few who definitely don't think that way." Say, both his exes and Kaysen St James (thank god - that'd be awkward!). He knew he got attention just for standing with a guitar and singing though, as much as he'd always done nothing to encourage that - to Isaac's oft dispair. Thom never really understood what it was about musicians that drew female attention so easily, and he'd never been into the whole groupie thing.

She ducked her head as if shy all of a sudden and when she looked up at him again it was from behind her own curtain of bangs and eyelashes. "I haven't met one yet. Besides myself, but like I said, I didn't really get it. But then again I just assumed you were like every other popular boy with a guitar."

Thom leaned back, able to let go of some of the day's stresses as the conversation progressed. It gave him something else to concentrate on, and it was a welcome distraction. "Oh yeah? And what's every other popular boy with a guitar like?" he asked her, though he would disagree with the 'popular' part. By traditional definition, anyhow. He didn't run with the popular crowd, but he couldn't deny that he did have a special status within the school, there weren't many places he couldn't go, and most everyone knew him, or at least of him.

Isabelle offered him a half smile before starting. "Out to get chicks. They learn three maybe four songs, including at least two really sappy love songs. They use the tortured artist angle and whenever there's a good chance they bust out the guitar, say something about how this song reminds them of love lost or their grandma and then the girls all swoon. It's the one track mind mentality." She'd noticed the way he relaxed a little around her, seeming to enjoy the conversation over whatever else had him playing such sad music. It wasn't everything, but it could mean another crack in that hardened exterior.

"Never knew my grandma," Thom told her with a shrug. "So, I guess that's where I go wrong. And anyway, playing the same few songs over and over would get boring in, oh, a couple of hours." He gave her another smile. "I think you need to meet more actual musicians, rather than the ones who by a shiny guitar and a book of chords and think they're good to go. There's lots of us out there, you know."

"I suppose I do need to meet a few more real musicians. Maybe you can introduce me around," she teased, returning his smile with one of her own. "Although you didn't deny the part about being in it just to meet girls? Is that just standard for all musicians? Actual and fake?" Her giggle was light and teasing, but not that annoying girl giggle that tends to make people cringe.

Thom smile dropped mostly - after all, three of the best real musicians he knew were leaving town today. "No, I'm not in it to just meet girls," he said, his tone quieter. He was 'in it' because he couldn't imagine actually wanting to do anything else with his life. There was Kaysen, and then there was his music. In that order - but it was a close running. being a protector was what he was, but being a musician was who he was. He'd never actually used the fact he was lead in a band to pick up girls. Then again, Isaac had always joked that he lived like a monk.

There it was. The quieter tone, the faded smile, it all meant he was hurting in some way that was more than he normally would bear alone. And that hurt could very easily be her way in. "Well that just continues to improve my impression of you Thom. You are officially more than just another popular guy with a guitar." She'd been avoiding looking at him directly until after she'd spoken. When she did look at him, Isabelle checked her own smile, letting it morph into a concerned look as she leaned forward a little, seeming as if she'd just noticed his change in demeanor. "Hey, are you ok? That smile seems to have left."

He looked away, trying to button it down, but there'd been a reason he'd wanted to be alone today. "Yeah, I'm okay, just... Gonna miss my friends," he told her, looking everywhere but at her.

Isabelle was itching to touch him, desperate to see if she could get a good read off of him, to see if she could figure out what had him actually living the tortured artist part. It took everything in her to not throw herself at him to see if she could get something. Her curiosity would have to wait though, since that sort of action would only serve to push him away. "Of course you're going to miss them," she said soothingly. Sliding off the table she moved a few steps closer, testing the waters. "I'd offer up my friendship, but I'm not sure that's much of a consolation prize."

"That's very sweet of you," Thom said, still not really looking at her. It was a pat response, not really heartfelt. He wasn't sure what else to say to it. he supposed that he was going to be a bit of a freakshow for a while now. The Guy Who Didn't Go. And he knew he'd be lonely - he could hardly remember a time when he and Isaac weren't practically joined at the hip. They'd drifted a little recently, since Isaac had started going out with Peyton, but he was still right next door. Only, not after tonight. He'd be really gone.

"I wish it was just me being sweet," Isabelle started. She was standing almost next to him now, close enough to reach out and mess with his hair, but she kept her hands clasped together in front of her. "Actually I'm being a little selfish. I do really adore my other friends, but they seem to only want to talk about gossip, hairstyles and football scores. You're not like that at all. I guess I'm infatuated with the idea of talking to someone different."

Somehow, he felt a bit better knowing there was a reason behind her being nice - even if it was something as vague as 'I wanted someone different to talk to'. Though 'infatuated' had him a little on edge - that never went well. "How do you know you'll like different?" he asked, finally looking up at her.

Isabelle's smile seemed genuine as she shrugged lightly. "Who knows? I might hate it." She glanced down at him, making eye contact and letting her smile creep into the corners of her eyes. "But there's no way to know without giving it a shot right?" The tone of her voice was hopeful, as if excited about the prospect of their friendship and strung through it was a possibility of something more. It was subtle notion, merely pointing out the door if Thom decided to go through it. When they had met the first time she was certain she'd be the one seducing him if it came to that. Now though, with how lonely he seemed, it was completely reasonable to just set him up to be the seducer.

"I guess so," Thom agreed, unable to dispute that point. "So - what you doing here on a Saturday anyhow?" he asked her, flipping the subject back onto her again.

"Cheer practice. Hence the lack of cute outfit and most of my hair pulled up," she joked, knowing full well Thom wasn't the type to care about those sort of issues. "We have a competition in a few weeks, like I said. Good practice until I got dropped." Rubbing the sore spot on her leg, she kept watching him with her simple smile. He'd turned the topic of conversation back around on her, but she let it flow. There was no need to rush this.

"You got dropped?" Thom asked, wondering about that - until he noted the leg rubbing and realised she meant literally and not, say, from the team. "Oh - you okay?" he asked her. He figured she was - she would have said, if she wasn't. But still...

Isabelle laughed lightly at his wrong assumption. "Dropped literally. Someone missed their spot on a stunt." Pressing the space on her leg to determine the extent of the damage, she smiled back at him, although sheepishly. "I'm alright, but it's going to be a really ugly bruise I think." That made her pout just a little bit, because bruises always looked worse on her alabaster skin than they would on anyone else. "Cheerleading is occasionally a full contact sport."

"Isn't it, like, one of the more dangerous sports you can do - risk of injury-wise?" Thom asked, thinking he'd heard that somewhere, though he didn't know whether that was just a pile of bull, or actual truth. "Never got why you girls like to be flung up into the air like that so much."

Tilting her head to the side slightly she considered the possibility before answering. "I suppose it's up there, but it's not like football or hockey where large guys are gunning for you." Isabelle shrugged. "I dunno, it's kind of fun being tossed around. Adrenaline rush I guess."

"And then the ground comes up and hits you," Thom added to the end of that, cocking a half smile once more. "Nothing like a bit of reality coming in. But, sure, I'll give you that, like, hockey's probably worse - least you wear padding for that though," he pointed out.

Isabelle's smirk was bright and her tone laced with a joking defensive edge. "Hey! We usually practice on mats, so it's not too bad when you fall." Reaching out, she gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. "Plus I think I got bruised when they were scrambling to not drop me and someone clobbered me with their elbow. I would have been better off just falling on the ground."

"No mats during games and the like though, right?" Thom pointed out, possibly betraying that he didn't generally go to games. He didn't buy into that whole school spirit herd mentality thing.

"Games, no. Competitions though, are usually on a matted floor. And you do the more intense stuff for a competition routine, not a Friday night game routine," Isabelle explained. Leaning back, but keeping her focus on him, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You don't take many risks do you?"

Thom considered the things he'd done over the past few months - fighting shadows, vampires, demon cats... "Not really, I guess - playing in a band isn't known for being a high-risk activity," he told her. He was getting better at lying - then again, he'd had a lot of practice at it lately.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at his answer. She was sceptical about his answer and at the same time believed him. Thom seemed the type who'd be willing to risk anything if the situation needed him, but she doubted he rarely took risks with his own feelings and desires. Isabelle smiled as she contemplated yet another angle to come at him from. "We'll have to work on that," she told him with a playful grin.

Thom gave her a doubtful look and his smile turned slightly less genuine. This was exactly what he hated about this kind of girl - always trying to change people. It had been just that way with Em, and he'd known so many other girls that were the same type. The 'oh, you're cool - let me change you!' type. It wasn't impressive and Thom really didn't like that kind of thing.

The skepticism in his expression took the smile from her face. "Or not," Isabelle backpedalled trying to determine where she went wrong. "For the record though, I wasn't going to suggest cliff diving or something first. The thought was to convince you to take the major risk in hanging out with me in a planned scenario. You know, rather than our typical randomly run into each other instances." Her voice had gone soft and her cheeks took on a tinge of pink, as if her plan to ask him out had been foiled and he'd figured out how she felt.

Thom wasn't convinced. "Yeah, maybe - look, now's not a good time for me," he told her, half letting her off the hook, recognising that it might just be today's depression at work. "How about I just see you at school on Monday?" he suggested to her, willing to give her that much. He might be in a better frame of mind by then.

The pink in her cheeks had turned to a true blush now. Stepping back to put more space between them Isabelle's gazed dropped from Thom to her shoes. "No, it's ok. Monday's fine. Or just around right?" She offered him a little look that didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Thom almost winced at the blush. Great, he'd embarrassed the girl - he hadn't actually meant to do that. "I'll find you on Monday," he promised, figuring that that was the least that he could do.

The blush stayed in place but she managed a small smile at his promise. "Ok, Monday then." Isabelle continued to avoid eye contact, looking above him or past him. "I should probably be going, don't want the parents to worry or anything."

"Sure," Thom agreed. "I'm gonna hang out here for a while longer." In fact, he was going to be here for a few hours yet. He wanted to head back before Isaac went, to say his goodbyes, but he doubted he'd be home much before then.

"Of course. Sorry I interrupted." She moved towards the door where she retrieved her gym bag from where she'd left it. Pulling it over her shoulder, Isabelle hesitated at the door, one hand on the knob, looking back at Thom. "I meant it, about being glad you're still here. No motives, or tricks." Just lies.

Thom didn't have a reply to that, so he just nodded a little, accepting the comment with a little smile. What could he say to that? Really. If there was an answer, he didn't know what it was, so she got non-verbal instead.

Isabelle nodded in return and slipped out the door, already replaying the conversation in her head, picking him apart for his weak spots, for faulty chinks in his armour. Thom would be a challenge, but probably her best conquest yet.