Book Five Teaser #5
I take another drag. “Yes, Isaac. Nolan. That's his name. You've been playing lacrosse with him for years. I'm surprised this is confusing for you.”
“I know his fucking name.”
“Congratulations.”
Iz steps closer. “He's having fun.”
“So am I.”
“Are you?”
I smile. “Jealous?”
He laughs. The sound is ugly. “You'd fucking love that. You think I'm jealous of Pierce?”
“Why not? He's hot.” Iz's jaw tightens. Oh. There. I smile wider. “He is. Have you never noticed? Great shoulders.”
“I'm aware of Pierce's shoulders.”
“Nice hands too.”
“Bella.”
“And he cleans up beautifully.”
“You done?”
“Not remotely.”
Iz moves closer. I don't move. That is the problem with us. Neither of us ever fucking moves.
“You've been staring at me all night,” he says.
I laugh in his face. “You are clinically delusional.”
“You watched Katie touch me through an entire song.”
“I was looking at the exit.”
“She was standing on the opposite side of me.”
“Big room.”
“You nearly snapped your glass.”
“Cheap glassware.”
His grin is vicious. “There she fucking is."
I blow smoke toward his face. He catches my wrist before I can lower the cigarette. “Don't.”
“Or what?”
His fingers tighten. I step closer. “Come on, Iz. You followed me outside. Surely you had a plan."
“I wanted some air.”
“Then breathe.”
“You're polluting it.”
“Go somewhere else.”
“You first.”
“I was here first.”
“You've been saying that since kindergarten.”
“Because you've been following me around since kindergarten.”
His eyes narrow. “You wish.”
“I don't have to wish. You're standing here.”
He lets go of my wrist. I should walk away. Instead, I take another drag.
Iz watches my mouth. I notice. Of course I notice. I lower the cigarette slowly. “Something you want?”
“Not from you.”
Liar. The word flashes through my head so fast it almost makes me laugh.
I step closer until there's barely space between us. “Then why are you looking at my mouth?”
“Trying to figure out how so much bullshit comes out of something that small.”
“Practice.”
“Clearly.”
“Nolan likes my mouth.”
His eyes flash. Iz smiles. Slowly. Horribly. Iz's hand closes around my waist.
I shove him. Hard. He barely moves. “Don't fucking touch me.”
“Make me stop.”
I shove him again. This time he catches my wrist. I slap his chest with the other hand, and he catches that one too. “Let go.”
“No.”
“Iz.”
“Bella.”
I jerk against him. He pulls me closer. “You're such a fucking asshole.”
“You came to prom with Pierce.”
“So?"
“So nothing.”
“Then why do you care?”
“I don't.”
I laugh. His jaw tightens. “Liar.”
Something changes. Maybe it's me saying it. Maybe it's the way he looks at me. Maybe we've been standing too close to the match for too fucking long.
I don't know who moves first. I know my cigarette hits the pavement. I know his mouth crashes into mine. And I know I kiss him back.
There is nothing soft about Isaac Walsh. There has never been anything soft about us.
My hands fist in his shirt and his fingers dig into my waist as he backs me into the wall. I bite his bottom lip. He swears against my mouth and kisses me harder, and every horrible thing I've wanted to say to him for months gets swallowed somewhere between us.
I hate him. I hate Katie Bellmont. I hate the way he tastes. I hate that I know I don't hate any of it.
Iz pulls back just far enough for both of us to breathe. His forehead nearly touches mine. “Your date know you're out here kissing me?”
I smile even though my pulse is trying to break out of my throat. “Does yours?”
His eyes darken. “Don't worry about Katie.”
“Why? She seems very invested in you.”
“Jealous?”
“Of Bellmont?” I laugh. “Please.”
His mouth brushes mine again, deliberately withholding the kiss. “Liar.”
“Fuck you."
“That's more like it.”
I grab his tie and yank him back down. He kisses me again. Vicious. Familiar in a way it has absolutely no right to be. Like every fight we've ever had was practice for this one.
His mouth moves to my jaw, then my neck, and I have to bite down on the sound that tries to escape me. Iz hears it anyway.
He lifts his head. That fucking smile. I grab his hair and pull hard enough to make his head tip back.
He laughs. “Fucking psycho.”
His hand slides along my thigh beneath the slit of my dress, and my breath catches despite every effort not to give him the satisfaction. He gets it anyway.
His eyes lock on mine. “Does Nolan get these same noises, Bella?”
I hate him. I hate him so fucking much.
So I smile. “Nolan doesn't have to work this hard.”
Iz goes completely still.
There. I found it. That place underneath the jokes. The thing with teeth.
His hand tightens against my thigh. “You really want to play that game?”
“You started it.”
“No, Whelan.” His smile comes back, but there is nothing funny in it now. “You started this fucking game years ago.”
“And you've been losing ever since.”
His mouth hits mine again. I kiss him because I want to win. He kisses me because he refuses to lose.
And somewhere inside that distinction is the reason Isaac Walsh and I have always been completely, spectacularly fucked.