Isla wasn’t sure when the thrill had turned to dread and anxiety.
Maybe it was the night she kissed Liam in the shadows of her garage, barely pulling away before his mother walked in through the back door. Maybe it was the dinner party where his hand slid between her thighs under the table, and she bit her lip so hard it left a mark. Or maybe it was this morning, when she saw Marcie’s number flash on her phone and felt panic, not excitement.
It was too much. Too risky. Too much what ifs! What will people say?
And Isla wasn’t reckless—not anymore.
Which is why she stood in her bedroom now, her suitcase halfway packed, folding clothes with shaky hands, forcing herself to breathe.
Just a weekend at her sister’s. A break. Distance. She will text Liam after she left. Say she needed to thin
