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1164 Words
CHAPTER NINE
SHIFTING GROUND
ISABELLA
The worst part wasn’t that he was there. It wasn’t the way my body reacted before my brain could catch up. It wasn’t the way his voice still lingered in my ears long after I walked away. It was the fact that I couldn’t pretend anymore. Something had shifted. And no matter how much I tried to act like it hadn’t… It had.
———
The drive back from the beach club was quiet. For me that is. Camille talked the entire time, recounting who she saw, who she hated, who she might sleep with if she was bored enough. I nodded in the right places, laughed when I was supposed to, played my role perfectly. Meanwhile, my mind was somewhere else. Still stuck on him. On her Dad. Shut, this is so messed up.
“You were off tonight,” Camille said suddenly, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.
I forced a small shrug. “Just tired.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Mmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “You didn’t even flirt back properly.”
I blinked. “I danced with him.”
“You stood there and let him move you around like furniture,” she corrected. “That doesn’t count.”
Despite everything, I let out a soft laugh.
“Sorry I didn’t meet your standards.” I rolled my eyes. “And besides, I didn’t want to lead him on. I have a boyfriend, remember??”
“You never do, you’re dating your boyfriend.” she teased lightly, then her tone shifted, softer. “Seriously, though. What’s going on with you?” Everything. Nothing I could say out loud.
“I’m fine,” I said again.
She sighed, like she wanted to push but didn’t. “Alright. But if you’re secretly having a breakdown, at least make it entertaining for me.”
“Noted.”
———
The house was quiet when we got back. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made you aware of every sound you made, every step you took.
Camille kicked off her heels and stretched. “I’m going to shower. Don’t disappear on me.”
“I won’t.”
The second her door closed, I exhaled slowly, the tension I’d been holding all night finally settling into my bones.
I should go to bed. Sleep. Reset. Pretend tomorrow would be different. Instead, my feet carried me somewhere else. Not toward him. Not intentionally. Just… wandering. That was the excuse I gave myself.
———
The terrace was empty.
Moonlight spilled across the stone, soft and silver, the ocean stretching endlessly beyond it. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs should have been calming. It wasn’t. Because my mind wouldn’t quiet. It already has. His voice again. Firm. Certain. Like he wasn’t guessing. Like he knew. I leaned against the railing, gripping it tighter than necessary.
“No, it hasn’t,” I muttered to myself. It couldn’t have. It had been days. A few conversations. A handful of moments that shouldn’t matter this much. So why did they?
Why did everything feel… different? Like I had stepped into something I didn’t fully understand yet?
“You’re arguing with yourself now.” I froze then turned slowly.
Alexander stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same unreadable expression.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough.” Embarrassing.
“Great,” I muttered. Silence settled between us again, but it wasn’t the same as before. It was heavier now. More aware.
“You left,” he said.
I frowned slightly. “From the club?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think I needed to announce it.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then why bring it up?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, stopping just within that invisible boundary we seemed to keep testing but never fully crossing.
“You don’t like places like that,” he said.
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Something about his certainty irritated me. “Stop doing that already,” I said.
“Doing what?”
“Deciding things about me.”
“I’m not deciding,” he said calmly. “I’m observing.”
“I was fine.”
“You were pretending.”
My jaw tightened. “And what if I was?”
“Then you should ask yourself why.”
God. He was exhausting.
“And you should mind your business,” I shot back.
“Fair.” That threw me off.
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I stared at him, suspicious.
“You’re just going to agree?”
“You want me to argue?”
“No, I just…” I stopped, shaking my head slightly. “You’re confusing.” His lips curved faintly.
“I’ve been called worse.” I huffed out a quiet breath, looking away from him, back at the ocean. The distance didn’t help. Nothing did.
“You shouldn’t have come tonight,” I said after a moment.
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”Another pause. This one longer. More deliberate.
“I was curious.”
“About what?”
“You.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s not a good reason.”
“It was enough.”
I shook my head, more to myself than to him. “This is exactly what I meant,” I said. “This… whatever this is. It shouldn’t be happening.”
“And yet it is.” I turned back to him, frustration rising.
“That doesn’t mean we have to let it continue.”
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.” Relief flickered. Finally. Logic. Common sense. Till he spoke the next line.
“But we will.”
It hit harder than it should have. Because he didn’t say it like a possibility. He said it like a fact. My chest tightened.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said, trying and hopping I sound pissed.
“I’m not deciding,” he replied quietly, not even phased. “I’m recognising it.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
Silence again. Thick. Heavy. Unavoidable. I should walk away. End it here. Draw the line myself if he wouldn’t. But my feet didn’t move. And that was the problem. Because the longer I stood there, the clearer it became.
This wasn’t something I was accidentally falling into anymore. This was something I was choosing. Even if I hadn’t said it out loud yet. Even if I still pretended I had control. Deep down, I already knew. The ground beneath me wasn’t steady anymore. And I had no idea when it started to shift. Or how far it was going to take me.
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