[BOOK2]
Friendship built their world. Love will break it open. ❤️
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Isla Brookes and Theo Dwyers have been inseparable since childhood-always there for each other, always just friends. Though, things start to change and everything starts feel...
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What the hell is she thinking?
"Theo?" Peyton's voice cuts through the noise, sounding frustrated as she tries to get my attention.
I turn to her, forcing a tight smile. "Sorry about this," I say, though my focus is already back on Isla. She's managed to climb onto a table, her movements wild, a bit sloppy. I can barely make out what she's saying over the pounding music, but the grin on her face and the hollering guys around her tell me all I need to know.
Peyton follows my gaze, her brows knitting together in a frown as she watches Isla. "I get it, but you still haven't answered my question. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?"
I barely hear her. Isla's hands are at the hem of her top, fingers fumbling as she giggles, swaying dangerously close to the edge of the table. The guys are practically drooling, shouting for her to keep going. My stomach tightens with something dark and unfamiliar.
"Yeah, sure," I say quickly, not fully aware of what I'm agreeing to as I start pushing through the crowd toward Isla.
Before she can do anything else, I scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder. She lets out a loud, slurred squeal, half-laughing, half-protesting, as I turn and carry her out, ignoring the cheers and laughter that follow us.
"Put me down!" she slurs, wriggling against me, her fists lightly thumping my back. "Theo, I wasn't done having... fun!"
"You're done," I mutter, my grip tightening as I make my way through the crowded hallway, determined to get her outside before she does something she'll regret.
The cool night air hits us, and I set her down on the sidewalk, keeping a steadying hand on her arm as she sways, blinking up at me with glassy eyes. She's unsteady, her hair falling messily over her face, and she can barely keep her balance.
Her gaze wavers, struggling to focus on me. "Theo... Theo, wh-what are you doing?" Her words are slurred, her tone irritated but faintly amused, like she's in on some private joke.
"What the hell were you doing, Isla?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended, slicing through the cool night air between us. But I can't stop it. Not when the image of her on that stage, about to strip in front of a crowd of guys with their eyes glued to her like she was some kind of prize, is still branded into my mind. It's got my chest twisting in ways I don't want to think about, ways I can't even begin to explain to her.
Her brows knit together, the hazy, unfocused kind of confusion only alcohol brings. She wobbles on her feet and gives me a glare that would probably have more bite if she weren't so gone. "I was... having a good time!" The words slur together, each syllable heavier than the last. Then she pouts, that defiant curve of her lips something I know too well. "I'm... allowed to have fun, Theo. Not like you. All... serious and... boring."
I sigh and drag a hand through my hair, trying to stop the frustration bubbling in my chest from spilling over. "Is that what you call it? Getting drunk and putting on a show for a bunch of guys who couldn't care less about you?"
