"You love me, Izabel,” I continue. “I know that scares you. Love is scary. Hell, life itself is scary, but what is life without a little risk and fear? Sounds pretty damn boring to me."
"It isn't that simple. None of this is simple," she whispers, barely audible, and there's pain laced into every word that leaves her perfectly full lips. She buries her face into my chest, nails biting into my skin. One of my hands runs through her hair as the other traces patterns on her back, soothing her.
As she pulls back from me and out of my grasp, her eyes meet mine. I could get lost in those emerald depths. Tear-stained and all, they're perfect, just like her.
"I don't think it's supposed to be easy. It's just supposed to be worth it. Am I worth it to you, Iz?" It's a question, but I feel more like I'm begging her to take this leap with me. With her answer, she holds a power over me that I've never allowed any other human to possess. She holds the power to obliterate my heart. That knowledge terrifies me.
Her head falls as she turns and walks over to the bed, taking a seat on its edge. I pad over, sitting next to her, but keep a little bit of distance between us.
My eyes find hers. “Answer me, damn it. Am I worth it to you, Iz?”
Ever so softly, she sighs and shakes her head, more in avoidance of the question than an actual answer.
Always avoiding, never actually dealing with shit. I’m a patient man, and for her I’ll stay a patient man. Doesn’t mean I won’t push, and push hard as fuck.
So I press her, "If you can’t even answer me, then can you at least tell me, where the hell wouldyoulike us to stand?"
"Exactly where we stood before.”
I scoff. “Which is?”
“Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, mutual sex fiends. Take your pick.”
I shake my head, biting back a chuckle. Even when tearing out my heart, this girl can make me laugh.
“Nothing has to change," she adds, forcing a slight smile that doesn't meet her eyes, as if begging me to accept her offer.
Shit. Well, like I said, I’m a patient fucking man that isn’t going anywhere.
I let out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah, sure. Nothing has to change,” I say, repeating the lie as a low mumble, frustration evident in my tone.
“Good... That’s good,” Izzy says, nodding her head, clearly ignoring my apparent irritations, which only heightens them.
While I’m annoyed with her constant avoidance, I’ll continue to play along if that’s what’s necessary to keep her.
She may think nothing has to change.
The thing is, for me,everythingalready has.
Chapter eight
Izzy
May 2017
It’s Via’s birthday. Ander surprised her by coming down and taking her to the island alone. Jett surprised me by showing up with Ander… and Abbie, his little sister.
Little does he know, she has a tighter grip on my heart than he does. Too bad she almost broke it when she asked to go with Ander and Via, not wanting to be stuck with us, “the spit swappers.”
"I can’t believe Abbie walks around calling us spit swappers," I snort out with a laugh, sitting on my chair by the window with my sketchpad in hand.
"She does,” Jett says from my bed, “and I'd love to prove her point. Now, give me those lips. I've missed you."
"Oh, is that so, Big Guy?"
"Yeah, it is. Now, carry your pretty ass over here. Don't make me beg." Jett bats his long, dark eyelashes at me.
"Hm,I actually prefer you begging. It makes me feel superior. You may proceed," I tease with a giggle.
