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1208 Words
CHAPTER EIGHT
UNSAID RULES
ISABELLA
There should have been rules. Clear ones. Simple ones. The kind you could hold onto when things started slipping.
Don’t be alone with him.
Don’t look too long.
Don’t think about him when you’re with someone else.
Don’t want him.
That one felt the most important. And the most impossible.
———
By midday, the house felt too warm. Not physically. The breeze off the water still drifted lazily through the open windows, carrying salt and something floral I couldn’t name.
But inside me? Restless. Uneasy. Like something had shifted and refused to settle. Camille, of course, was unaffected. She moved through the day like nothing had changed, humming under her breath as she flipped through outfits on her bed.
“There’s a beach club party tonight,” she announced, holding up a dress that looked like it cost more than my monthly rent. “We’re going.”
“I’m not in the mood,” I said automatically, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling.
“You’re never in the mood,” she shot back. “What happened to ‘three months of freedom’? You’ve been acting like someone grounded you.”
“I’m just tired.”
“From doing what? Breathing?” She tossed the dress at me. “Get up. You’re coming.”
I caught it without looking. “Camille…”
“No.” She turned to face me fully, arms crossed. “You didn’t fly all the way here to sulk. Something’s going on, and since you refuse to tell me what it is, I’m fixing it my way.”
I sat up slowly.
“You can’t fix everything with parties.”
“Watch me.” I almost smiled. Almost.
———
By the time evening rolled around, I had been dragged, styled, and mentally bullied into compliance. The dress she picked clung in ways that made me feel both exposed and… something else. Something dangerous.
———
The beach club was exactly what you’d expect. Music that pulsed through your bones. Lights reflecting off the water. People who looked like they belonged in magazines, laughing too loudly, living too easily. It should have felt freeing. Instead, it felt like noise.
Camille disappeared within minutes, pulled into a conversation with people she seemed to know effortlessly. I stayed near the bar, nursing a drink I hadn’t really tasted, watching the crowd without seeing it. This was what I was supposed to want. Fun. Distraction. Distance. So why did it feel… empty?
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” I turned at the voice, forcing a polite smile.
“Do I?”
“Very much.” The guy leaning against the bar was attractive in a predictable way. Easy smile. Confident posture. The kind of man Camille would definitely approve of.
“I’m just tired,” I said.
“Bad excuse,” he replied lightly. “You’re too dressed up to be tired.” I let out a small laugh.
“And what’s a better excuse?”
“That you’re waiting for someone interesting.” My stomach tightened. Not because of him. Because of who immediately came to mind.
“That’s a bold assumption,” I said.
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes.” A lie. He didn’t seem convinced, but he smiled anyway.
“Then let me fix your night,” he said, offering his hand. “Dance with me.” I hesitated. This was normal. This was safe. This was exactly what I should be doing. Even if it’s not.
“Okay,” I said, placing my hand in his.
———
The music was loud enough to drown out thought, which should have helped. It didn’t. Because even as I moved with him, even as I forced myself to stay present, to engage, to be here… My mind kept drifting. Back to the terrace. Back to the kitchen. Back to a voice that didn’t belong here but refused to leave me alone.
“You’re distracted,” he said, pulling me slightly closer.
“Am I?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “You keep looking over my shoulder.”
I stilled. Had I?
“I’m not,” I said quickly.
“You are,” he said, amused. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” Definitely not. Because there was no one here to worry about. Right?
———
“Isabella.”
The voice cut through everything. Low. Familiar. Completely out of place. My body reacted before my brain did.
I froze.
The guy in front of me frowned slightly. “Friend of yours?” I turned slowly. And there he was. Alexander. Standing just beyond the edge of the dance floor, dressed in dark clothes that somehow made him look even more composed in a place built on chaos. My heart dropped.
“What are you doing here?” I asked before I could stop myself. Because let’s be real, why the hell is he here?
His gaze flicked briefly to the man in front of me, then back to me. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m with Camille,” I said.
“So I see.”
The guy beside me straightened slightly. “Is everything okay?” Alexander’s attention moved to him fully now. Measured. Calm. Assessing.
“Yes,” he said. “Everything is fine.” It didn’t feel fine. Not even close.
“This is…” I started, then realised I didn’t even know his name. Right. Great. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
The guy beside me shifted, clearly picking up on something he didn’t understand. “I think I’ll grab a drink,” he said, backing away. “I’ll see you around.”
And just like that, I was alone with him. Again. Different place. Same problem.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, my voice lower now. “This isn’t your scene.”
“Neither should you.”
“I’m allowed to go out.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“Then what are you saying?” He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Enough to feel.
“I’m saying,” he said quietly, “you don’t look like you belong here, too.” My chest tightened.
“And where do I belong?” His gaze held mine. Too steady. Too certain.
“Careful,” he said instead. That wasn’t an answer.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” he said. “It’s what you need.” I exhaled sharply.
“You don’t get to tell me what I need.”
“Don’t I?” Something in me snapped.
“Stop doing that,” I said.
“Doing what?”
“Acting like you know me. Does Camille even know you’re here?”
His expression didn’t change. “I know enough. And no she doesn’t.” My heart was beating too fast again. Too loud. Too much.
“Then you should know,” I said, stepping back, putting space between us before I lost whatever control I had left, “that this doesn’t change anything.” A long pause.
“It already has.”
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