Mystery Girl

Chapter nine: He acts like it.

Isabelle's POV

"Belle, dear!" Mom shouts from downstairs and I huff, leaving my bed and going into the kitchen where my mom was cooking, probably dinner.

"Yes?" I ask, leaning against the side frame of the kitchen door.

"Can you please pop over to the supermarket? I have a shopping list. I'd go, but I'm really busy at the moment." She gives me a grin and I nod, grabbing the paper from her hands and shoving it inside the back pocket of my jeans. "Here." She hands me the list and I put that in my pocket as well, along with my phone.

I grab my jacket and put it on, sliding my bare feet into some sandals. I head out, and walk to the shops. Seeing as the closest supermarket was only seven minutes from my house, there was no need to ask Seb for a ride or if I could borrow his car.

He was buys anyways, so I didn't want to bother him. He said he was meeting some girl already and it, to be honest, wasn't much of a surprise to me. I mean, girls would fawn over him every second he walked past. It was kind of annoying, but Seb loved it. It just boosted his ego and inflated his head even bigger that it already was.

I just hope Seb is a loyal guy, because he wasn't exactly boyfriend material before. If he was acting like a - let's just be straight - fuckboy, then I'd knock some sense into him and probably threaten him.

Hey, I know how it feels to be played and the end game is heartbreaking.

I'm not exactly one to loiter around the shops when I need to get something done. If I'm just there to wander around and check things out then I take my time, but when I've got work to do I do it, no slacking. And this was exactly that. Buy the things my mom wrote and get out and stay in my bedroom all day.

I just throw the stuff in the shopping cart, and when I get into the bath products aisle, I sigh. All mom wrote was shower gel. Which shower gel? If I get a random one, she'll say she won't like it. She's too fussy. How am I supposed to know what kind of shower gel she freaking wants if she's not specific?

I scan the row of scented shower gels, skimming the labels on each one and trying to remember which one mom bought last week. My mind racks through the options but don't seem to come up with a decision. I sigh in frustration and my heart stops when I hear an all too familiar voice which I had gotten used to too many times.

"Is that you, Bella?" The deep and silky voice asks. He always called me Bella. Not Belle. Not Isabelle. Bella.

My eyes widen, my jaw drops. Why is he here? It can't be him, no, please, God, no. I slowly turn around, taking in the man in front of me, from his black converse to his sleek black jacket. His dark hair is the usual. Tousled back. His green eyes sparkle as he grins at me. That beautiful grin. He takes a few steps towards me. I take some back, until my back hits the shelves and I know I'm trapped. Stuck.

"You dickhead." I finally say. He takes more steps so that he's only inches away from me. The grin just widens and I fight the urge to just slap that grin off.

"How sweet." He smirks, lifting his hand and sliding a finger down the side of my face. He always knew how to bring out the vulnerable side of me.

I close my eyes, take in a sharp breath. "Hale." Is all I can say before he presses his lips to the side of my neck tenderly. My heart is beating rapidly and the memory of our past relationship comes flooding back to haunt me. He bites the same spot, and I have to keep in the moan and not let it escape from my mouth.