Luke
Myheartsqueezestightly.One or more chambers appear to be seriously malfunctioning. A cold sense of dread flows through my veins and settles in my extremities. Izzy gets to her feet and shrugs her shirt off, easing it slowly down one shoulder and then the other. She lets it flap in the breeze for a moment and then drops it onto the sand. She tugs at her headband and shakes her hair loose. Her neck arches back gracefully and her hips start moving in time with the music playing from Gould’s tinny phone speaker. Jessie watches her with an intensity that feels heavy and dark.
“Turn the volume down,” I hiss at Gould.
Being Gould, he turns it up.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, have I just spent the entire day talking the hottest girl I know up to the guy I want for myself?
Who the hell does that?
I feel sick. I look at Izzy again, critically this time, hoping against hope she’s not as gorgeous as I’ve always thought she is. Her hair whips around her face, dark lashes against alabaster. Long arms and legs sway to the music. I notice she’s not wearing a bra. I usually don’t notice things like that, as I’m immune to boobs, but I remember that Gould, who is far from immune, sometimes makes comments about her ‘perfect tits’.
Christ above.
It’s official. Isabel Bradford is the hottest girl I’ve seen in real life.
I fight the urge to clamp my hand to my mouth. I sit as still as I can. I watch in horror as she leans down and whispers something to Jessie who’s still sitting on one of those stupid chairs Gould brought. He glances over at Chase and then gives Izzy the worst smile I’ve seen. All it is is a slight twist of one side of his mouth. His eyes dance as he nods, and he looks up at her like they’re sharing a secret.
As I watch them I realize Izzy is basically the female version of him. She’s unmanageable and wild just like him. She even looks like him, for Christ’s sake. Dark hair, piercing pale eyes, impeccable bone structure and an excess of devil-may-care attitude. I know for a fact I read somewhere once that the number one quality people look for in a romantic partner is familiarity. I can’t remember where I read it, but I know I did.
Familiarity.
How gross is that?
What’s wrong with people?
“Wanna go for a swim?” says Gould.
“No.”
“I’ll come,” says Chase. He’s up on his feet right away which is odd as he seems more morose than usual. If I wasn’t currently watching my own personal nightmare coming to life in slow motion, I might be inclined to feel a little concerned about him. Things being what they are, I decide to check up on him in the morning.
“Jessie,” I say a little louder than necessary, “we need to go. I just got a message from my mom. Your dad wants you home.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Dunno, but it sounded important so we better get going. Iz, do you mind asking Chase to take my stuff home when you guys are done? He can bring it round when he comes over tomorrow.”
“Sure. Hope everything’s okay. It was nice to meet you, Jess.”
I love Izzy. She’s been one of my best friends since the eighth grade, but if she keeps calling Jessie Jess, I have a feeling we’re going to fall out.
“You too.”
He doesn’t look back as he follows me. He’s too busy checking his phone to see if he has a message from Greg. We’re well out of earshot by the time he starts talking.
“Did your mom say what was wrong? I don’t have any messages from my dad. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” I snap.
“Is it my mom?” His eyes flash and his voice is suddenly breathless with fear.
“Nothing’s wrong. I didn’t get a message, I just wanted to go.”
“What?”
I give him a pointed, unapologetic shrug.
