[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...
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Two weeks.
Fourteen days of Isla being mine. Fourteen days of walking around campus knowing she's wearing my hoodies, curling into my side whenever she feels like it, kissing me just because.
Fourteen days of Jake Sutton trying—and failing—to get under my skin.
He's been a problem since the second he joined the team. The kind of guy who walks in expecting instant respect without earning it. He's good—I'll give him that. But he plays with a chip on his shoulder, like the whole world owes him something. And at practice, he goes out of his way to start shit—cheap shots, petty digs, the occasional "accidental" shove when Coach isn't looking.
It's pathetic.
Especially since the only thing he's really mad about is her.
Which makes it even funnier, because while he's out here acting like a sore loser, Isla's mine.
And she's never going back to him.
*******
The bonfire is already packed when I get there, the glow of the flames flickering across the sand. Music thumps from a speaker, people are drinking, laughing, making questionable decisions.
But I only see her.
Isla is standing near the fire, talking to Becca, her cheeks glowing warm in the firelight. And she's wearing my hoodie.
I don't even think before I move.
She's mid-sentence when I slide my hands onto her waist, pulling her back against me.
She sucks in a breath but doesn't even tense. She knows it's me.
"Theo," she murmurs, soft and warm.
I dip my head, brushing my lips against her ear. "Having fun, Luna?"
Becca groans loudly. "Oh my God. You two are insufferable ... cute but insufferable"
Isla laughs. "You love it."
Becca snorts. "No, actually. I feel like I'm trapped in a poorly written romance novel where the broody athlete finally gets with his oblivious best friend, and suddenly, he's the human equivalent of a golden retriever in love."
I smirk. "Just obsessed...I mean –" I start wrapping my arms around Isla tighter, "Have you seen my girl"
Isla blushes, her fingers tightening in my hoodie, and Becca laughs.
"Tell me, Isa—does he at least let you breathe in between makeout sessions, or does he just survive on sheer willpower and desperation?"
I grin, completely unbothered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
She fake gags. "Christ. If I have to witness one more lingering stare or borderline pornographic public display of affection, I might start charging you both a tolerance tax."
