Desire (wlw)

XXXII.

Lea

I leaned back against the wall in the corner of the foyer, nursing what was left of my drink. The glass felt cool against my fingers, a small contrast to the heat of the party around me. Music thumped faintly from the living room, and the scent of alcohol and cologne hung in the air. My head tilted lazily against the wall, but my mind wasn't calm.

Isabel.

God, she knew just what to do to get under my skin.

It wasn't just that she kissed me in front of everyone—it was the nerve, the complete disregard for the rules we'd set. The crowd had erupted in cheers, and I'd kissed her back for a brief, reckless moment. But now, hours later, the sting of annoyance lingered. She knew what was at stake. And yet, she did it anyway, like it was some game.

Fine.

I pushed off the wall and took a slow sip of my drink, letting the liquid slide down my throat as an idea brewed. And the best part? She couldn't do a thing about it. The foyer was empty except for me, but I knew Isabel wasn't far. She was probably with Gio or hovering around the drinks table, pretending to be unbothered. I'd seen her side glances throughout the night, the way her eyes lingered too long before she caught herself.

I reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, making sure my black top shifted just enough to catch the light. My heels clicked softly against the hardwood as I moved, each step deliberate. Effortless.

Rosie was still in the bathroom, so I positioned myself by the staircase, leaning one shoulder against the bannister. The move elongated my figure, and I tilted my head slightly, letting my hair cascade over one side. I traced the rim of my glass with a finger, feigning absentmindedness as if I wasn't fully aware of how I looked.

I felt her before I saw her—Isabel's gaze cutting through the crowd, like gravity pulling us toward each other. I shifted slightly, letting the hem of my skirt slide higher up my thigh, pretending not to notice.

When I finally looked up, our eyes met. Her face was neutral, composed, but I knew her too well. The tension in her jaw gave her away, the slight twitch of her hand against her glass.

I smirked, slow and deliberate. Then I turned my attention elsewhere, laughing softly at Rosie drunkenly stumbling out of the bathroom. I took another sip of my drink, my lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. She could look all she wanted. Touching me, though? That was off-limits, and she knew it.

As Rosie headed back into the living room, I followed, the clink of my heels swallowed by the music that seemed louder in here. My drink was still cool in my hand, and I took another sip, but my focus wasn't on the party anymore.

Even without turning around, I knew Isabel was at a distance behind me. Her gaze burned into my back, intentional and heavy. She always had this way of looking at me like I was the only person in the room, and right now, it was doing exactly what I wanted it to.

A small, smug smile played on my lips as I let my thoughts wander. I wasn't entirely sure what my next move would be, but whatever it was, it would keep her wanting—keep her tethered to me like I was the air she needed to breathe.

So lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the figure in front of me until it was too late. I walked straight into someone, the collision soft but enough to startle me.

"Oh—" I began, stepping back, but the other person cut me off.

"I'm so sorry—" the girl stammered, her voice warm and soft. But her words faltered as her eyes met mine.

"A-are you okay?" The girl stuttered, taking a small step back.

"I'm fine," I spoke, my voice softer but confident. "Are you?"