[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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The sun outside my window feels like a taunt, its light pale and indifferent, as if it knows I'm unravelling inside. My textbooks are a mess across the bed, open to the same chapters I've been pretending to study for hours. But no matter how long I stare, the words blur together, useless against the chaos in my head.
Theo.
It always comes back to Theo.
That morning at the beach house—God, it's burned into my memory. The way he looked at me, his brown eyes steady, raw, like I was the answer to every question he'd ever had. The way he told me he's loved me for years, like it was a fact as simple as breathing. And what did I do? I froze. Not a single word came out of my mouth.
Weeks later, and I'm still stuck in that moment, still trying to untangle this knot of emotions. He's been my best friend for so long, my safe place, my constant. Shouldn't I know by now if I feel the same? But every time I picture us crossing that line, my chest tightens like a vice.
What if we try and it falls apart? What if I lose him?
I groan into my hands, the frustration bubbling over. This isn't me. I hate this indecision, this limbo. I hate that I'm too scared to move forward but too selfish to let go.
A sharp knock at the door snaps me out of my spiral. Before I can answer, Becca strides in like she owns the place, her dark curls bouncing and her expression all business.
"Still brooding, I see," she says, hands on her hips.
"I'm not brooding," I grumble, flopping back against the pillows.
She snorts. "Yeah, sure. And I'm the queen of England. Move over." She pushes my books to the floor and plants herself beside me. "Spill. What's going on? And don't even try to tell me it's nothing, Isla. You've been in full-on hermit mode for weeks."
I chew on my bottom lip, debating how much to say. But Becca's sharp gaze pins me down, leaving me no room to squirm.
"It's Theo," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
She doesn't look surprised—of course, she doesn't. "What about him?"
"That morning at the beach house... he told me he loves me. And I just froze. I didn't know what to say then, and I still don't."
Becca's lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. "Okay, let me get this straight. Your ridiculously hot, annoyingly perfect best friend tells you he's in love with you, and your response is... nothing?"
I wince. "I panicked, okay? And now I'm scared. What if we try and it ruins everything? What if I lose him?"
"What if you don't?" Becca counters, her tone sharp. "What if he's your person, Isla, and you're too busy being scared to see it?"
I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.
"You're overthinking this to death, as usual. Just tell him where you're at. Be honest. Stringing him along isn't fair, to him or you."
