“I-Iz, it’s not what you think.”
Humiliation surges over my skin, making me instantly hot and sweaty.
“Not what I think?” I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Diego, your friend just walked in here and practically congratulated you for screwing me. What exactly am I supposed to think?”
Diego flinches, dragging a hand through his messy hair, gripping the strands as if that could pull a coherent answer from his brain. His jaw tightens, but I see the panic in his eyes.
“I didn’t—Holli’s an idiot, okay? I didn’t tell him anything important.”
“Important?”
My voice cracks with disbelief.
I step back, tugging the shirt’s hemline as far as it will go to the floor, which isn’t much. With most of my legs still revealed, I move to the end of the island, away from Diego and his friend’s curious gaze.
“He knows I’m your professor, for Christ’s sake. What exactly did you tell him?”
His shoulders stiffen as he moves, making me tense, ready for whatever's coming. But instead, he turns off the burner, abandoning the dinner he was making for us.
“I didn’t sit around telling stories, alright? He just . . . picked up on things.”
Even I know it’s a lie when his buddy looks away, suddenly interested in Diego’s view of the harbor.
“Picked up on things?” I echo the words like acid on my tongue. “That’s your excuse? You couldn’t even bother to keep this, us, private? We agreed to that. In fact, you said it first, if I recall.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He reaches toward me, and I instantly shake my head. “It wasn’t some big conversation.”
“Oh, so what was it then? A joke between friends? A trophy story?”
My chest is heaving the same as his. He attempts to reach for me again, desperate, but I recoil, stepping back, my glare razor-sharp.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand falls limply to his side. His mouth opens and closes like choking on words he can’t say.
“Iz, please, listen to me.”
But I’m already turning away, my pulse pounding in my ears. From the corner of the room, Hollister clears his throat awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.
“Look, man, maybe I should?—”
“Get the fuck out, Holli!” Diego’s voice is a snarl, sharp and venomous.
His friend’s hands shoot up in surrender. Why he’s still here is beyond me. Why I’m still here is beyond me, but that’s something I can quickly resolve. The only thing in my control in this uncontrollable situation.
“By all means, you stay. I’m leaving.”
I point to his friend, who is casting awkward glances between me and Diego. I sprint past him, snatching up my clothes until I reach the bedroom. I nearly trip pulling on my jeans, giving up on finding my underwear altogether.
Diego runs into the room, his hands clasped together, pacing like a caged animal.
“Please don’t do this.”
I don’t respond when I rip his t-shirt from my body, wishing I could rip it in half for effect. The room’s cold air rushes over my heated skin in a temporary respite.
“Just talk to me, Iz. Please,” he begs, completely wrecked.
I snatch my bra from the floor and pause to glare at him. My breath is shallow. Thankfully, he has the decency not to stare at my breasts while fastening the clasp in the front.
