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Izabella was furious.
Fuck Eddie for making her feel this way. Fuck him for somehow convincing her back into his house, his room, his bed. - she thought.
Fuck him for somehow getting her into this situation; sitting on his couch, frankly far too early in the morning considering the night she had before, head heavy in her hands, silent hot tears sliding down her cheeks. Izabella hated him for making her cry, especially just after waking up. She hated him for the fact that she couldn't smell candles in department stores without wondering what he would think about them (the spice-smelling one next to his bed reminded her of this fact). She hated him for being helpful and considerate even when he had no reason to be.
Although, truthfully, she didn't. Not really. At all.
"Iz?"
Her head whipped up so fast, she swore she felt her brain jiggle against hers skull. A chill ran down her spine at the sudden deep voice cutting through the silence. She fell back against the couch with a hand over her chest as you placed the voice to the figure in the doorway.
"Fuck, Billy, don't sneak up on me like that."
Billy raised his hands up, pleading innocence as he cautiously took one step closer. "Sorry. Just- surprised to see you here."
Izabella shuffled to the edge of the couch, hand over her heart, feeling her whole chest vibrate with how hard it was beating. She sighed, reaching forward for her shoes. "I was just leaving."
Billy frantically put his hands out, making his way to the couch. "No, no, it's okay-." He paused when he noticed her blotchy face and glassy eyes. "You okay?"
She glanced up at him for the shortest moment, embarrassment and shame creeping over her.
"I'm fine."
Billy Dunne:She wasn't.
The couch sunk as he fell to the empty space beside her. They both sat in silence as she busied herself with making sure everything in her collection of belongings was there.
Before Billy could say anything else, she gently put a hand on his knee. "I'm so sorry. I should really go."
Izabella quickly stood up, strappy heels dangling from her fingers. Everything about this probably looked tragic. And in a way, it was.
"Hold on," Billy's voice carried from the couch. "How are you getting home?"
She shrugged. "Taxi?"
He shook his head, holding up one finger. "Wait, I'll give you a lift. II'll just get my keys."
Before she could protest, Billy had disappeared down the hall, and was back before she had a chance to slip outside the front door which she had opened in his absence.
