The Owner's Box

Chapter 7

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Isabella Saint POV

It's been two days since Harlow left my house. Two days since she blew up on me and left.

Now here we are again in Professor Boone's class. I've spent the entire hour staring at Harlow, hoping for even a glimpse of recognition in her eyes. Yet, she's refusing to make eye contact with me or even look in my direction, despite Zack raising his hand to ask questions every so often.

The tension between us is thick, hanging heavy in the air like an unspoken truth.

I can't help but wonder what's going through her mind, whether she's thought about me since she stormed out of my house.

As the minutes tick by, I find myself growing increasingly restless, desperate for a chance to talk to her and clear the air.

My thoughts keep drifting back to Harlow and the way things ended between us in Miami. I can't help but feel a lil guilty for leaving her house without properly explaining myself. And then, when she left my house, I missed the opportunity to clarify things. I fucked up.

I desperately want to keep my dance life separate from this, from me, my actual real life. She thought I was a fem for fuck's sake, and that's laughable. Well, probably not that laughable because I do dance, but again, that's not me. It's not who I am, and I don't know how I can be me and Emerald if Harlow and I are friends. But I do need a chance to explain myself.

The class comes to an end, and I breathe out a sigh of relief I didn't realize I was even holding. Students begin rushing out of the class. Professor Boone is talking and laughing with Harlow as Zack and I begin our descent of the stairs in the lecture hall to leave.

As Professor Boone's voice calls out my name, I halt mid-step, a knot of nervousness tightening in my stomach. I turn towards her slowly, attempting to compose myself. With a smile that feels more forced than genuine, I wait for her to speak, hoping I don't appear as awkward as I feel.

"Harlow, this is Isabella Saint. She goes by Saint," Professor Boone introduces us. As the words sink in, a wave of conflicting emotions surges through me. Harlow's impassive expression gives nothing away about our recent interactions. Meeting her gaze, I try to keep my composure despite the rapid beating of my heart.

Harlow extends her hand to me, and I quickly shake it, trying to keep my composure. "Nice to meet you... Saint," she greets me with polite formality, as if we were meeting for the first time. It's a stark contrast to the intimacy we shared just the other night in Miami, throwing my ass back on her.

We shake hands, and I feel that familiar flutter in my stomach as our hands grip each other.

"Yes, nice to meet you as well, Harlow," I reply, trying to maintain composure despite the rush of emotions.

As I stare at her, she tilts her head to the side before glancing down. Following her gaze, I realize with a jolt that I'm still holding her hand in mine. Embarrassment floods through me, and I quickly snatch my hand back from her grip, hoping she hasn't noticed my momentary lapse in awareness.

"Saint is one of my brightest students. She reminds me a lot of what you were like in your undergraduate years. She's got a bright future," Professor Boone enthusiastically states.

"Is that so?" Harlow questions, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Yes, in fact, I would like for you to do a one-on-one with Saint. Let her pick your brain a bit. Do you have time tonight?" Professor Boone asks, her enthusiasm evident.

Harlow appears to be deep in thought for a moment, considering the proposition.

Meanwhile, I stand silently, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on me. "No, it's okay. I'm sure that Harlow is busy while in town," I interject.