Desire

XV.

Isabel

Lea was off, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out. She was usually a little high-strung, but today was different. Stressed. Tense. I noticed it from the second we started rehearsing in the studio. Her movements were sharper than usual, the flow that she normally had wasn't there. She kept messing up on minor things, swearing under her breath every time it happened. We'd go over the same measure five, six times, and I could tell she was frustrated—more than usual.

But I kept my mouth shut. If she wanted to spiral, that was on her. I had my own things to worry about. She wanted to keep things professional, friendly, and I wasn't about to make that harder for either of us by prying into her life.

Still, there was a part of me—God, I hated that part—that wanted to know what was going on in her head. I couldn't help but watch her more closely, the tension in her face, the way her shoulders never seemed to relax. But whatever it was, she wasn't talking.

Eventually, our studio time ran out, and we still had work to finish. When do we not?

"We can meet at my place later," Lea said, her tone firm as she stuffed her things into her bag. "We don't have much of a choice." I could tell she wasn't really up for guests tonight.

I didn't argue. Instead, I just nodded and went my own way. Ice cold. The way I had to be.

Later that evening, I stood outside her door, my mind battling with itself. It was strange, knowing I'd be in her space. She hadn't mentioned anything personal since the day she pushed me away, so I wasn't expecting much. But still, there was that nagging part of me—the part that still couldn't let her go—wondering what her apartment would tell me about her.

When the door opened, I had to force my face to stay neutral. It was exactly what I expected and not at the same time. Minimalist, clean, but with little hints of her. A few music sheets scattered on the coffee table, a couple of abstract paintings on the walls that I recognized as hers. Lea. Elegant, but... messy, in her own way. It suited her.

She led me inside without much of a word, and I followed her to the living room, dropping my bag near the couch. We were supposed to go over the performance measure by measure, but I couldn't ignore the weight hanging in the air between us.

She was stressed. It was obvious. And I wasn't stupid enough to pretend I didn't notice.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, I finally broke. I kept my tone flat, like I didn't care, even though I shouldn't have cared so much. "You okay?"

Lea glanced at me, clearly caught off guard by the question. She shrugged, not bothering to meet my gaze. "I'm fine."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the couch as I crossed my arms. "Doesn't seem like it."

She was quiet for a minute, her fingers tracing the edge of her phone on the table. I could feel her holding back, the way she always did, like she was afraid to let anyone in too much. It irritated me, honestly. She'd always been the one to act like we could talk, like we were friends now—so why was it so damn hard for her to just say what was on her mind?

Eventually, she let out a sigh, sitting down next to me, her expression tight. "It's nothing, Isabel. Just... family stuff."

I didn't respond right away. Family stuff. I knew all too well how much of a mess that could be. And as much as I wanted to say something cold, to keep the distance we'd forced between us, something stopped me.

"What happened?" My voice was low, but it wasn't as harsh as I meant for it to be.

She hesitated, staring down at her hands before speaking again. "I had to make a deal with my dad," she said, her tone flat. "If nothing comes from the showcase, I have to quit music. Study something he approves of."