Desire

XI.

Isabel

I stood by the pool, arms crossed over my chest, barely listening to whatever Gio was saying. The words blurred together. I nodded occasionally, but my focus was somewhere else—across the yard, where Lea stood with her friends, glowing like she always did. She laughed at something Rosie said, and I hated how that sound reached me through the noise of the party. Every few minutes, she'd glance my way, and every time our eyes met, it was like the rest of the party faded out.

After a while, I'd go back to being stoic, unbothered. I told myself it wasn't a big deal.

But then she'd look at me, and everything I told myself would unravel.

I forced my gaze back to Gio, trying to pretend I gave a shit about the conversation, but it was impossible to ignore her. I need to get a grip.

I replayed what happened at the garden in my head, like some broken record I couldn't turn off. I cursed myself for not taking initiative. The way Lea had looked at me, the way her lips had parted like she was about to say something—something important. And me? What did I do?

I choked.

I should have said everything I was feeling in that moment, told her the truth. I should've pushed Gio aside and told him we needed a moment alone, but instead, I did what I always do. I went back to pretending. I told her to act normal.

I'm such a fucking dumbass.

The night had been going so well—too well. But when I had her there, with her eyes locked on mine, so close I could feel the warmth of her breath, I shut down. And now, all I could think about was how stupid I'd been. Every time I tried to shove it out of my mind, it crept back in, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I leaned against the railing by the pool, absentmindedly listening to Gio talk about something—some football game, maybe? I wasn't really paying attention. I nodded at the right moments, forcing a small smile here and there. But my mind was somewhere else. With her.

That's when I heard it—the sound of obnoxious whistles and catcalling cutting through the crowd. My eyes snapped toward the house, and I saw people parting like the Red Sea as she walked in.

Kiara Winters.

Just when I thought I might succeed at staying in control, Kiara Winters walked in. The overconfident, self-absorbed queen of the party. Her shorts shouldn't even be considered clothing at this point, and her top was low-cut, designed to catch attention—and she got it. People fawned over her as soon as she stepped in. She thrived off it, smirking at every glance, like she was above it all.

I saw right through it. Kiara was shallow. Fake. She thought she could have anyone she wanted, and most of the time, she wasn't wrong. But I'd always seen the emptiness behind the charm.

I hated her.

I always thought she was an airhead.

And, of course, she saw Lea and headed straight for her.

You're joking.

My fingers curled into my palms as I watched her approach. I shouldn't care—who Lea talks to is none of my business. But seeing Kiara lean in with that arrogant smirk made something cold settle in my chest. I couldn't tear my eyes away, no matter how much I told myself to.

"Why is a pretty girl like you standing in a corner at a party like this?" Kiara's voice carried, obnoxious in its faux sweetness.

Lea didn't fall for it, though. She smiled, but I could see the indifference in her expression. "Just hanging out with friends," she said, brushing Kiara off as if she weren't worth her time.