[BOOK2]
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lose her.
And losing Isla? That's not an option.
*******
Is...
{Song for the chapter : Treat you better - Shawn Mendes}
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It all started when Isla came back from Madrid for senior year. Three years away, and now here she was, walking the halls of St. John's like she never left. Dark blonde waves framed her face, a blue sweater hugging her frame, and her eyes scanned the room like she wasn't fazed by anything.
Isla Brookes always had this way of moving through life, like nothing could touch her.
Except this time, she wasn't alone. Jake Sutton walked beside her, his arm casually draped over her shoulders like he owned her. And that? That was a problem.
Jake was the definition of cocky. Another star player on the soccer team, always showing off as if the field was his personal stage. He had a habit of thinking he was the best at everything, and now, apparently, he thought that extended to Isla.
I hated it.
But the thing was, I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because I'd known Isla forever—long enough to know she wasn't the kind of girl who'd go for someone like Jake. But here she was, smiling up at him like he hung the moon. And that? Well, it didn't sit right with me.
As they approached, I leaned against my locker, trying to seem casual. My jaw clenched, though, when I saw the way Jake's hand tightened possessively around her shoulder.
"Dwyers!" Jake called out, his voice carrying the same arrogance it always did. "Ready for practice?"
I forced a tight smile, my gaze shifting from him to Isla. Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there. Recognition? A memory of who we used to be before Madrid and before Jake? I couldn't tell. But she smiled, and that was enough to pull me back to reality.
"Morning, Sutton," I said, my tone flat. "You're late again."
Jake shrugged, like it didn't matter. "Coach knows I'll deliver. That's all that counts, right?"
I rolled my eyes. It was typical Jake—thinking as long as he scored goals, nothing else mattered. "Maybe don't push your luck."
Isla let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as if she was used to his antics. "Theo's right. You can't keep skipping warmups, Jake."
Her voice was light, teasing, and I couldn't help but feel the familiar warmth that came from hearing her speak. It was the same voice I remembered from all those years growing up together, back when things were simpler. When it was just us and soccer and no one else in the picture.
Jake glanced down at her, a smirk on his face. "Come on, Isla. You know I'm always ready to play."
"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes again, but there was a softness to it, like she was letting him get away with it. That annoyed me more than anything.
Before I could stop myself, I added, "Maybe you should care more about the team, Sutton. It's not just about you."
Jake's eyes flickered with irritation for a moment, but he quickly masked it with another grin. "Don't worry, Dwyers. I've got this."
