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CHAPTER SEVEN — I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
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Isa smiled genuinely at her best friend as a steaming cup of tea was placed in her hands. "Thank you," She said softly, leaning back on the couch as she took a short sip. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and as soon as she arrived at her apartment she had changed and called the girl out of nervousness mixed with desperation.
"Bullshit, you don't have to thank me" Maddy gave a playful huff, plopping down next to her as she looked at her, legs crossed. It was clear she was dying of curiosity to know what had reduced her best friend to this poor state, but she was trying to give her the time she needed.
Isa had noticed, not only because it was deadly obvious, but also because he knew her all too well. "I really owe you an explanation."
Maddy smiled, shrugging. "I'm not rushing you" She clarified. "Even though you made me worry, I literally thought the worst. I know my dickhead boss can be infuriating, but your situation was on another level."
The girl rolled her eyes at the mention of Rafe, taking more sips of her tea as she avoided Maddy's gaze. "He's the problem"
"That's obvious to me. Has he touched you? Made advances? He can be a damn weirdo sometimes, okay? Tell me and I won't think twice before beating his ass."
Isa raised an eyebrow, placing the cup on the coffee table in front of them. "Are you crazy? I wouldn't be reduced to this after things like that."
"Yeah?" Maddy scoffed, leaning forward slightly to meet her eyes. "Are you saying you wouldn't mind?"
Isa's eyes widened, practically jumping from her seat as she frantically moved her hands. "No! absolutely not, my god, don't even say that. I hate him to death, I would let someone bury me before doing something with hum" The tone of her voice had risen slightly, making the tea she had drunk just before work in vain.
The girl next to her giggled almost mischievously, playing with a lock of her hair. "You keep making me think otherwise"
She shook her head, huffing despondently as her body shrunk further into the corner of the couch, against the armrest. Then, she began to calmly explain each part of the nauseatingly intertwined story, enjoying the changes in her friend's expressions. In the end she found herself with a dry throat, hands sweaty with anxiety and silence that was too silent.
