11. Izabella
IZABELLA
I’m one hundred percent not disappointed when Gulliver doesn’t appear at the end of the day as I’m dashing from the side of the building and toward where Mark is holding the car door open for me. It doesn’t matter that he’s become a symbol for me retaining my identity. It’s not like we’re friends, we’re barely acquaintances. So no, absolutely not disappointed, not at all.
But it was nice, if only for a brief moment, to have someone at school talk to me and really know who it was they were talking to.
Shaking off the stupid thought, I climb into the car and settle into the cool leather seat.
“Mr. Winslow isn’t joining you tonight?” Mark asks, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
“No.” I shake my head. “I think he was only here yesterday to double check that he didn’t imagine me,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh. “At least now he knows about me, Mom and Dad won’t be able to force me to pretend to be Penelope and…” I trail off, not wanting to talk about the things my parents suggested I should do to appease Gulliver.
“My offer still stands. Any time, it doesn’t matter when, call me and I’ll get you out of here, I’ll keep you safe,” my sweet driver says, his voice laced with so much sincerity I have to swallow past the lump of emotion in my throat.
“Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me that you care enough to want to help.” My voice cracks, and I pull in a shaky breath. It doesn’t matter that Mark and probably Mrs. Humphries know exactly what’s going on with my family, I still can’t actually come out and admit it.
“Anytime, Miss Izabella. Anytime.”
Neither of us speaks again, and a few minutes later, the car slows to a stop outside the house. When he opens my door, I let him help me out, then place my hand on his arm and squeeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The next morning, I wake up with a sense of trepidation that I don’t understand. After my shower, I don my Penelope hair and makeup and head downstairs for breakfast, hoping to have a chance to actually finish my food before Penelope announces that it’s time to leave. The granola and yogurt Mrs. Humphries places in front of me tastes delicious but seems to turn into a stone the moment I swallow it.
For a moment last night, when Gulliver wasn’t waiting for me, I was a little disappointed, but then it almost felt like a relief to think he’d lost interest in my existence. Perhaps the dread that is slowly filling me is more about Mom’s insistence that I attend more and more of my sister’s classes for her. The subterfuge is exhausting, and even though it’s only a few months until graduation, the prospect of spending so much time pretending to be her is daunting.
“Hurry up,” Penelope snaps, not even bothering to look at me as she grabs her juice from Mrs. Humphries and leaves. The scent of her disgusting green smoothie permeates the air in the back of the car, but I don’t say anything because being ignored by my sister is better than being the target of her ire.
Just like every other day, Mark slows to a stop beside the school steps, then climbs out to open Penelope’s door. Glancing to my left, I watch as my sister exits the car with her usual flourish, like she’s performing for an audience. When my door opens, I almost fall out of the car, my shocked shriek dissolving into a pathetic squeak when Gulliver appears in the open space.
“Hello, Izabella,” he says brightly, leaning into the car and grabbing my backpack from the floor by my feet.
“Hey,” I protest as he passes it off to someone behind him.
Ignoring me, he pushes his hands beneath me, scoops me into his arms, and boldly lifts me from the car.
“What are you doing?” I cry. “Put me down.”
“Now, Izzy, darling, why would I want to do that?” He laughs, tightening his grip on me as he carries me away from the car and up the school steps, gently lowering me to my feet when we reach the top.
Not releasing me, he keeps me in place with one arm banded around my back and the other cupping my cheek. My heart starts to race in my chest as I glance around us at the sea of curious onlookers.
“Gulliver,” I say quietly.
Smirking, he arches one mischievous eyebrow at me. “Izabella Rhodes,” he yells loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
“Gulliver,” I hiss.
Ignoring me, his arm around my back tightens, keeping me exactly where he wants me as he leans in and presses a soft kiss against my lips. When he pulls back, he winks at me, then releases me and drops to one knee at my feet. “I know we’re young, but you’re my everything,” he announces loudly, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips.
Still holding my fingers, he jumps back to his feet and points at my sister, who’s still standing at the bottom of the steps, her mouth agape, anger flashing in her icy eyes. “Penelope!” he yells. “I’m in love with your sister.”
With a triumphant grin, he spins back to me, reeling me in until my chest is pressed against his. Dipping his head, he kisses me again, only instead of a soft peck, he cups the back of my head and slams his lips against mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth and devouring me like we’re passionate lovers, not virtual strangers.
My brain protests the way he’s touching me, but my body doesn’t get the memo, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I kiss him back, closing my eyes and allowing myself to melt into the madness of the moment. Soon this will all be over and I’ll sink back into oblivion again, but for now I embrace the chaos and forget that the lips touching mine belong to a man who thinks my parents are awful and my sister is a whore.
Somewhere outside the bubble of the kiss Gulliver and I are sharing, I hear the sound of people cheering and clapping, but it feels like it’s miles away. Deepening the kiss, the world moves as Gulliver dips me, cradling my head with his palm and holding me bent backward with his hot touch on the base of my spine.
It’s the perfect kiss. My first real kiss. It’s such a shame that it’s all fake. Slowly pulling back, he drags his teeth over my bottom lip, pressing a kiss to my jaw, then another to the pulse point in my neck.
My eyelids flutter open, and I see a flash of heat in his eyes and a devious grin on his lips. Lifting me upright, he makes sure I’m steady on my feet before he drops to one knee again and then very loudly says, “Izabella Rhodes, will you marry me?”
What the hell is going on?I part my lips to ask, but before I can speak, Gulliver is leaping up from the floor and lifting me into the air.
“She said yes!” he announces jubilantly, twirling me around before kissing me again.
There’s an audible gasp from the crowd that’s amassed around us, then a burst of loud and enthusiastic whoops and congratulations. I’m sure in a normal high school, an engagement at eighteen would be unusual, but in the world of GAA and the uber-rich, it’s not uncommon for people to be committed at a young age.
“What the hell is going on?” Penelope demands, her heels clacking loudly as she storms up the steps to us.
She literally took the words right out of my mouth, because I have no idea either, but Gulliver’s smirk never falters as he calmly pulls me to his side, dropping his arm possessively over my shoulders. “Penny, should I start calling you sis now? Don’t act like this is a surprise. She said yes,” he announces loudly, heralding a fresh round of cheering and applause while he smiles smugly at my sister.
Suddenly, the group of people around us seems to multiply, and all eyes are on us. Both of us. As in me and my identical twin sister, in the same place, at the same time, and all because of Gulliver fucking Winslow.
“Gulliver, dude. She said yes?” a guy with almost white-blond hair asks as he rushes up the steps toward us.
“She said yes!” Gulliver shouts. “Izabella Rhodes is going to be my wife.”
When the blond guy reaches us, he claps Gulliver on the arm, then scoops me into the air in a dramatic and very familiar bear hug. “Izzy, I’m so fucking happy for you guys,” he says, like we’re the best of friends and he’s genuinely congratulating me.
“Izabella,” Penelope snaps from beside me, her eyes wide and horrified.
The blond guy lowers me to my feet, wiggles his eyebrows playfully at me, then spins around to my sister. “Penelope, you must be over the moon. Your sister’s engaged before graduation, and to a Winslow, no less.” His tone is light and happy, but his words are a very pointed dig that my sister doesn’t fail to notice.
“I’m over the moon, obviously,” she says through gritted teeth. “Izabella, could I speak with you for a moment?” she asks, her lips twisted into a smile, her eyes filled with fury and recrimination.
I feel myself shrink beneath her barely restrained anger, but I literally have no idea what to say. I don’t have an explanation for anything that’s happened this morning. Gulliver and I have spoken to each other on exactly three occasions, and I’ve never even seen the blond guy before.
“So?” another guy asks, rushing toward us, his mop of chocolate-brown curls bouncing as he runs up the steps.
“She said yes!” Gulliver cries, pulling me close again.
“Congratulations,” the curly-haired guy says, hauling Gulliver in for an enthusiastic hug, before turning to me. “Welcome to the family, Izzy,” the guy says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek like we’ve known each other for years. “I mean, you’ve been family since you and Gulliver got together, but now it’s official.”
“Izabella,” my sister screams my name, demanding my attention.
“Sorry, Penny, but I’m not letting you steal my fiancée. You can have girl time later,” Gulliver says, winking at her mockingly as he drops his arm from around my shoulders and reaches for my hand, wrapping his fingers firmly around mine and pulling me away before I have a chance to argue.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout at Gulliver, rushing to keep up with his long-legged stride.
Ignoring me, he waves, calls hello, and smiles widely at everyone we pass.
“Gulliver, you need to let go of me,” I say a little louder this time. But he ignores me again, pulling me through the hallways until we finally stop outside a familiar door.
“Open it,” he says, his unrelenting grip on my hand not loosening as he tips his head in the direction of my darkroom.
“I…” I say, stalling and trying to think of something to say.
Tutting loudly, he pulls me roughly toward him, unbuttoning my blazer and removing the key from the inside pocket. With a smug smirk, he pushes the key into the lock and opens the door, forcing me inside, before following me in and closing and locking the door behind him.
Stumbling forward, I move away from him, my eyes wide and my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “What are you doing?” I cry, backing up until I’ve put as much space between us as I can in the small room. My heart is hammering in my chest. I’m locked in a disused room with a boy who aggressively propositioned me the last time we were alone together. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I argue, or fight, or do something other than placidly allow myself to get shut in here with him?
Fear hits me like a ball of ice in my chest, and I shuffle along the back wall, placing the old, dusty couch between us, like it will protect me.
“Calm down,” Gulliver says, eyeing me with amusement, his lip curving up at one side.
“I don’t know what’s going on. Why are we in here? What was all that…?” I wave my hand toward the door, unsure what to even say. “All that show outside for?”
A knock on the door startles me, and I instinctively try to take another step back, but my spine is already against the wall, and there’s nowhere else for me to go. Rolling his eyes at me, Gulliver turns and unlocks the door, opening it an inch and peering through the gap. My heart starts to race when he pushes it wide and the two boys from the steps stroll into the room, positioning themselves on either side of Gulliver, matching grins etched across their faces.
When the door closes again, my fingers tighten, gripping the back of the couch like I could use it as a weapon. I have no idea why I’m here or what they have planned for me, but whatever it is, I’m trapped in the one place in this school that, until now, had brought me peace. This was my safe haven, and now I have an awful feeling it’s going to become a nightmare.
“Jesus, they really are fucking identical,” the blond boy says, his eyes running over me like I’m a painting at a museum.
“I told you,” Gulliver murmurs, staring at me with the same intensity as his friend.
“I think we’re scaring her,” the curly-haired boy says.
“Tell them who you are,” Gulliver demands.
“Tell me why I’m here first,” I ask, hoping that some Penelope-style bravado might get me some answers.
“You first. Tell them what your name is,” Gulliver snaps back, crossing his arms across his chest and making the sleeves of his uniform blazer pull taut across the muscles in his arms.
“My name is Izabella Rhodes,” I admit quietly, balking slightly at the sound of my own name coming from my lips.
“How long have you been at GAA?” the blond boy asks.
“Since I was a freshman,” I answer, realizing that I should have forced Gulliver to tell me what’s going on before I gave them any more information.
The curly-haired boy laughs, and the sound is so infectious, so full of mirth, that I bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling. “Bullshit,” he taunts.
“How is it possible that you’ve been here for years and yet no one knows you?” Gulliver demands, his brows furrowed together.
“Tell me why I’m here and why you put on that show outside first, then I’ll answer your questions,” I say, trying to sound braver than I actually feel.
His eyes narrow, and he assesses me again. It feels like he’s measuring me, judging me, but I’m not sure what he sees. “I don’t intend to marry your sister. I don’t care how much money the alliance between our families would bring my father. I don’t like Penelope, I don’t like your parents, and I don’t like the way our families have tried to force this on me. Something’s going on with you and your sister. I don’t know what it is, but it’s shady as fuck. So, when I saw a chance to fuck with Penelope, I took it.”
“You proposed to me in front of half of the school and made it seem like we’ve been together for years. All you did is fuck me over,” I hiss, my voice stronger when I process what he just said.
“No,” Gulliver hisses. “What I did was make sure that people know I’m not with Penelope. I can’t marry her if I’m engaged to you,” he says smugly.
The curly-haired boy laughs again, slinging his arm across Gulliver’s shoulders. “Time to pay the piper, Izabella,” he says, enunciating my name.
“What?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Time to explain why no one knows you,” he says, tilting his head to the side.
“Oh.” Some of the tension falls from my shoulders, and I feel myself relax a little. “Nothing to explain really. I come to school every day, I go to class, and then I go home. It’s not my fault that people assume I’m my sister. The teachers all know I’m here. If anyone had taken the time to notice, they would have realized I wasn’t Penelope, but they haven’t.”
“And that’s it?” Gulliver asks.
“That’s it,” I say nonchalantly. I’m not stupid. I’m not about to admit that I pretend to be my sister to take her classes, or that without me, she would have broken the terms of the will already and lost the inheritance both she and my parents covet above everything else.
“So why does your driver drop off your sister, then wait until the very last minute to bring you back and drop you off? Why does he pick up Penelope, then come back half an hour later and get you?” Gulliver demands.
“I’m antisocial,” I say simply.
“I don’t believe her,” the blond guy announces, slapping Gulliver on the chest. “How ’bout you, bro?”
“Nope, smells like bullshit to me,” Gulliver says, never taking his eyes off me.
“Who are you?” I ask the blond guy, turning away from Gulliver to focus on him.
“Are you serious?” His brows furrow and his eyes narrow, like he thinks I’m playing with him.
“I’m antisocial,” I say again.
Gulliver scoffs lightly. “This is Davis Aldrich, and this,” he says, nodding in the curly-haired boy’s direction, “is Kip Tudor. Hawthorn Benedict is outside the door.”
I nod, unsure what else they want from me. They sealed my fate with their little performance earlier. My sister and parents won’t believe I wasn’t involved in this, despite the fact that they know Gulliver only figured out who I was two days ago. They won’t care that I’m as much a victim in this as they are. All they’ll see is me trying to sabotage my sister.
“Can I go now?” I ask.
All three boys look at me like I’ve lost my mind, but really, what did they expect me to say? None of this is real.
“That’s it?” Gulliver asks. “You’ve got nothing else to say?”
“What else do you want me to say? Should I offer you congratulations? Do you expect me to clap, scream, and slap you on the back for fucking with my life? This is just a game to you, Gulliver, but I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the consequences. You’ve humiliated me, my sister, and my family, and I’m the one who is going to have to explain to my parents that you thought it was a funny joke to propose to me in front of half of the school. I’m the one who’s going to have to convince them that I wasn’t involved in this charade, that I haven’t been plotting behind their backs to ruin the plans my parents have been making with your dad,” I say, my voice getting louder and stronger as indignant anger sets in. “This is all fun and games to you, but I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with my sister and parents’ anger and all so you don’t have to be a cog in a political marriage, like I’m sure your dad was and probably decades of Winslows have been before him. So yeah, that’s all I’ve got to say. Now, are we done? Because my shitty day will only get shittier if I’m late for class.”
All three boys’ eyes are wide, like they hadn’t expected me to call them out on the shitstorm they just brought down on me. But what’s the point of pretending that this joke is nothing but a bit of fun? It might be for them, but not for me. The entire school will know I exist by now, and once people realize there are two of us, they’ll notice my absence.
Forcing every single vestige of my bravery to the surface, I step out from behind the couch and cross the room until I’m standing in front of Gulliver. “Can I have my key, please?”
I try not to let the shock show on my face when he drops the key into my outstretched hand. Stepping carefully past him, I unlock the door and push it open, ignoring the intrigued look on the face of the boy who’s standing guard just across the hallway. Looking around me cautiously, I wait until the boys file out of the small room, then I close the door and lock it, sliding the key back into my pocket before I turn and walk away.