And I've been watching her like a starving man watches food he can't have.
I deserve death.
"Enzo."
Her voice. I've memorized that too. The way she says my name, soft and almost breathless.
I force myself to stay still, staring out at the trees instead of turning around, instead of looking at her in that dress.
"I uh… I wanted to talk to you."
About what? What could she possibly want to talk about that couldn't wait until morning, when Matteo's around, when there are other people, when I'm not alone with her on this porch fighting the urge to do something unforgivable?
"Make it quick, Princess."
"I—" She stops and I hear her take a breath. "This is hard to say."
Then don't say it. Walk away. Go inside. Save us both.
"I don't have all night, Isabella."
"I have feelings for you." She blurts and I freeze.
Fuck.
The words land like a punch straight to the gut, right where I've been lying to myself for months, telling myself she hasn’t noticed, she doesn't see the way I watch her, that this sick obsession is one-sided.
"No, you don't." I force myself to say flatly, dismissively.
"What? Yes, I do." Her footsteps move closer and I can hear the wood creaking under her bare feet. "I-I've felt this way for a while now. And I think you feel the same way."
She thinks.
She has no idea. No idea that I've spent the last year cataloging every smile, every laugh, every time she walks past me smelling like that. Every time she stretches and I see a strip of skin above her waistband.
No idea that I've imagined what she'd taste like, feel like, sound like underneath me.
No idea that I'm the worst kind of man. The kind who wants to put his hands on his best friend's eighteen-year-old sister and keep her.
"You're wrong."
"I'm not!” She's right behind me now, close enough that I can smell her. Floral and sweet and young. So young. "You've been avoiding me all summer."
"I’m an adult. Isabella. I’ve been busy with work."
"No. You leave every time I enter a room. You won't look at me. You barely speak to me." Her voice gets quieter. "You weren’t like this before."
That's because a year ago you were still a kid. Now you're not. Now you're this beautiful creature who haunts every thought I have and I can't look at you without wanting things I have no right to want.
I turn around. Finally. Look at her.
Mistake.
The dress is worse than I thought. The neckline dips low, showing the curve of her breasts. The hem hits mid-thigh. Her legs are bare, tanned, perfect.
And she's looking at me with those hazel eyes full of hope and something that looks like want.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
