Nothing Personal

05. under the moon and stars

THE ROLLING SURF whispered Willow's name as she stood barefoot in the sand, gazing at the moonlit ocean. Stars glittered upon the inky waves, as countless as the grains coating the shore. A pale luminescence bathed the beach, illuminating Willow's silhouette a few paces away.

Isaac kicked off his shoes, cuffing his pants to mid-calf as he strode toward the water's frothing edge. He looked over his shoulder at Wilow with a crooked smile dancing in his eyes. Even though it was past midnight, she could see the glint in his eyes. "Come on, Willow. The water's fine."

She shook her head with a rueful laugh, crossing her arms. "You know I don't swim."

"Who said anything about swimming?" Isaac waded into the surf, waves lapping playfully at his legs. He cocked his head. "I promise the ocean likes you."

Willow hesitated only a moment longer before being unwillingly seduced. She slipped off her shoes and padded across the wet sand into the sea's welcoming embrace. Cool water rushed over her feet, caressing her skin in rhythmic pulses. She sighed, tension melting from shoulders held taut too long.

Isaac watched her smile grow. "See? There is nothing to fear in gentle waves."

Willow dared to go a testing step deeper, gasping as a swell rushed past her calves. She turned to Isaac with a playful gleam, splashing a wave his way. "And what about bad boys who lure girls into the water? Should I be afraid of them?"

He grinned, raking hair from his eyes. "Me?" Isaac fluttered his eyelashes innocently. "I'm as good as they come."

Willow rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "You're about as innocent as a snake."

"Now that's just unfair," Isaac pouted. "Snakes didn't do anything wrong."

Willow shrieked as he sent a wave crashing over her head in revenge. Sputtering, she retaliated with both hands, soaking him thoroughly. "You're so evil!" she giggled.

Laughs mingled with the roar of the surf as a lively splash-fight ensued, punctuated by yelps and good-natured taunts. At last, Willow called a truce, her chest heaving as she slicked hair from her smiling face. "You may have won this round, but the girl shall have her revenge another day."

Isaac bowed, sweeping a theatrical hand. "I can't wait." A rare solemnity softened his smirk. A comfortable silence fell as they wandered the moon-dappled shore, letting the surf kiss their toes in parting. Willow scooped up a perfect conch shell, running fingers over spiraled whorls.

"My mom would always find those and give them to me when I was younger," Isaac muttered, looking at the shell in Willow's hands as he pulled a flask from his pocket, swishing the contents inside.

"That's beautiful," Willow said.

If only she could've gotten something like that when she was younger, maybe she wouldn't have been so fucked up. No matter how much beauty surrounded her, she couldn't outrun the images that replayed on an endless loop in her mind. She saw Thomas clawing at his reddened neck.

Willow shook her head with a rueful smile and took the flask from Isaac, taking a swig. "Another game?" She consciously tugged herself back to the present, plastering on a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Isaac pretended to consider it as he stole the flask for a drink. "Hmm, let me think."

Willow nudged him impatiently. "Come on, don't make me wait all night."

Isaac grinned. He tilted his head, studying options, before inspiration struck. Grin widening, he scooped something from the sand at their feet. "Ever played keep-ups with a shell?"

Willow snorted despite herself. "You can't be serious."

Ignoring her skepticism, Isaac deftly juggled the conch between his hands. "Come now; it's not so hard. Just don't make it touch the sand. Here—"

He sent it arcing toward Willow, who hurriedly jumped to catch it against her chest with a huff. Her competitive spirit rose to the challenge. Eyes narrowing in concentration, she tapped it back—a bit harder than intended.

Isaac scrambled to control its flight, fumbling briefly before regaining control. He gave Willow a playful scowl. "I'm so going to win you."

What followed was an increasingly ridiculous game of aquatic keep-ups, punctuated by giggles, splashes, and colorful insults as shells sailed about. Willow found herself flushed and breathless from running, unused to such frivolity after long years focused solely on duty. But in Isaac's company, she allowed herself to be free, even for tonight, beneath this careless sky.

Willow misjudged a jump, sending herself and the shell catapulting toward Isaac. He went down with an exaggerated thud, the shell bouncing harmlessly away as Willow's momentum carried them into the surf.

For a suspended moment, Willow froze and braced over Isaac with the entire length of her body pressed flush against his. Seafoam hissed around them, mingling with their labored breaths as gray eyes held brown. A lock of hair escaped Willow's disarrayed braid, falling across her face, and Isaac reached up almost without thinking to tuck it back behind her ear.

His hand lingered, his calloused fingers tracing the shell of her ear and making her shiver involuntarily. Willow was intensely aware of every place their bodies met—of the hardness of muscle beneath her and her core pressed firmly between his legs. She released a shaky breath, memorizing the scent of sea, alcohol, and an intoxicating cologne uniquely Isaac's.

For a breathless eternity, they remained thus, trading wordless questions in that careful caress. Then Willow slowly began to wiggle away from him, brushing sand from damp skin to hide a blush as her erratic pulse slowed again to its usual steady drum.

Isaac's hands gently grasped her waist, stilling her movements. His gaze flickered to her lips, slightly parted in surprise. For several pounding heartbeats, they remain thus. Willow found herself leaning imperceptibly closer, drawn by an invisible magnetic force.

Isaac's eyes have fallen shut, fingers flexing against her waist, on the cusp of closing the excruciatingly small distance between their mouths. The surf's roar faded into white noise as adrenaline coursed through Willow's veins like wildfire.

Yet propriety held her back from the point of no return. With a shuddering exhale, Willow slowly pulled away, breathless. "Sorry."

The boy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice low against the crash of waves. "I like seeing you on top of me anyway," Isaac said with a wink.

Willow gasped, pushing away from him. Thank heavens it was night, or Isaac would see how much effect his stupid words had over her. Isaac's soothing chuckles filled the space as he climbed to his feet, enjoying a flustered Willow. Willow huffed a self-conscious laugh, threading fingers through tangled hair. "I hate you so much."

Isaac grinned, extending a hand to help her up. Willow accepted, allowing him to pull her lithe form to her feet once more. Brushing off, she nodded, managing a small smile as he looked down at her. His curls fell down his forehead, water trickling from them. "And I like you too much, Miss Willow Accardi."

"Funny," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Willow stepped past Isaac, wandering along the shore, following the tideline's ebb and flow. Willow bit her lip, smiling, as Isaac followed behind her. A foreign flutter arose in her stomach as she watched him stay close, like her personal bodyguard, protecting her from the dangers of the night.

She dug her toes into the wet sand, inhaling the saline-sweet air and relishing the feel of the wind caressing her scalp. She was content to let the night unfold as it may, under the blessing of the moon and stars. Maybe the gods didn't hate her as much today.

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Two chapters today because why not?

Also, I promise you all that these chapters are necessary (for character development) because the upcoming chapters will be fucking crazy!

The next update will be on Friday! So, stay tuned!

Loads of love.
- Anne 🌟

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