Desire

XIII.

Isabel

The next few days were hell.

Every time I looked at Lea, I felt this mix of anger and something else I couldn't shake. It was frustrating—one minute I wanted to yell at her for running away from all of this, and the next, I wanted to pull her close. But she was keeping her distance, and I hated that it was driving me insane.

We had no choice but to work together because of the damn showcase. The universe just loved playing this sick joke on me. Every time we had to discuss choreography or music, it was like there was a wall between us. She barely looked me in the eyes, and when she did, I could see the hesitation. She was torn, I knew it. But she wouldn't let herself admit it.

I hated how much power she had over me without even trying. Even when I was angry, I couldn't stop noticing the little things—the way her hair fell around her face when she was focused, the way her lips would press together when she was deep in thought.

We'd go through the motions—choreographing, rehearsing, talking logistics—but underneath it all, it was just this unbearable tension. It wasn't just awkward. It was painful.

After a long day of trying to keep myself together around Lea and then enduring hours of ballet practice, I finally made it back to my apartment. The second I stepped inside, the silence hit me. For once, I welcomed it. I needed the quiet to think, to try and make sense of everything—Lea, my feelings, the mess that my life had become.

I hopped into the shower right away and let the hot water run down my skin, as if it was washing away all of my worries. I didn't even bother picking out clothes that made me feel like I had my shit together, I just threw on a faded, gray oversized shirt and some shorts.

The second I plopped down on my bed, all I could think about was her. The look in her eyes when she told me we should "just be friends." Like that was even possible.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, frustrated with myself. I should've said something—something more than what I did in the garden. I should've told her the truth, made her listen. But no. I let her leave. I let her tell me we should be friends, and like a coward, I said nothing.

God, I need a lobotomy.

I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes and trying to push it all down. But the sound of my phone buzzing on the table cut through the quiet. I was mentally preparing myself to say no to whatever Gio was about to suggest that we do to get my mind off everything, but as soon as I read the name on the screen, my blood ran cold.

Dad.

I stared at the name, my thumb hovering over the "ignore" button, but like always, I gave in. It's easier to deal with him when I know what he wants upfront, instead of letting it build and wait for the inevitable call later.

"Hello," I answered, my voice flat.

"Isabel," he said, dragging out the word like he was trying to sound warm. He's never warm, not really. "How's my girl doing? You keeping out of trouble?"

I rolled my eyes, sinking deeper into the couch. "I'm fine, Dad. What do you want?"

"Nothing, sweetheart, nothing," he lied, that fake charm bleeding through his words. "Just checking in on you. It's been a while. How's school? Ballet? You staying focused?"

He didn't care about any of that. He never did. This was just his opening act.

"It's fine. Everything's fine." I kept my responses short, hoping to speed this along. I already knew where this was going, and I didn't know if I could keep my composure for any longer.