Chapter 10
ISABELLA
They sit side by side, eating ice cream and sharing stories like long lost friends despite the decades of age between them.
Even with the troublesome sling slowing his movements, Papà is thoroughly enjoying himself.
He still doesn’t know this is the troublemaker I was telling him about.
The same one who swooped in to save the day.
I lost control, entirely overwhelmed by the possibility that this was worse than a simple fall. The urgent care gave him a thorough examination, but the fear of his frailty and age still causes a dull ache in my stomach, not solved with a scoop of ice cream.
Their willingness to chat with each other gives me time to mull over things. I shocked myself, reaching for Diego. For a moment, I had someone else care about my father as much as I did. It was nice. Mother cared in her way, I suppose.
But Diego is as outwardly impressed with him as I am. Common ground and shared experiences, I guess, are the magnetic forces drawing us together.
Even now, with his eyes glancing at me occasionally, they linger, curious and unwavering, as if he’s reading into what transpired between us as I am now. What I can’t deny is the spark between us. The annoyance I felt for him suddenly melted into something else entirely.
They say you can’t test the chemistry between people as you can elements in a lab. Now I understand. What I felt was a gravitational pull into him, and I enjoyed the feel of his body against mine. His steady and sure pulse was comforting in my ear as I pressed my cheek to his chest.
“You okay, Isabella?”
My name passing his lips does something to me. It has a rasp to it, deep and throaty. Maybe that’s why he has a fan club in the front row, that voice and those looks. Add in the oozing charm and charisma, and it’s a deadly combination.
I level my gaze at him, ignoring my Papà’s sudden musing over how they name the flavors.
“Just a little shaken up.”
“Understandable.”
His clipped response is cut off by melting ice cream dripping down the side of his cone. I go to get more napkins when I suddenly feel his presence behind me.
“I’m glad I was there for you, Isabella.”
My hand rests on the dispenser. The heat from his chest against my back causes my breath to hitch.
“Also, glad for what is happening between us.”
“Diego.”
His name drags out of me, groaning at how I’m going to have to eat crow when I walk back what I said earlier. I turn to face him, our bodies inches apart. It’s too close to be anything but personal.
“Listen . . .”
He’s still holding the cone that’s dripping even worse. I point to it, and he suddenly throws it in the trash bin beside us, slowly licking the ice cream from his fingers.
My breath stops when I see his thick tongue lick the remnants. My body is going haywire, thinking of other places he could use it. He notices immediately. A sly smile pulls at the corner of his lips, revealing beautiful, straight white teeth.
His head ducks, his lips almost touching my ear.
“You challenge me. I challenge you. It’s how we are.”
His warm breath sends chills down my skin. My thighs clench at how sexy that sounds. But my brain trips on one word.
We.
“There is no we, Diego.”
“But there could be.”
His tongue licks the shell of my ear, causing me to jolt and shove him out of the way to return to the table. Having finished his ice cream, I collect my purse from the seat beside mine and turn my attention to Papà.
“Are you ready? Diego needs to head home.”
“Of course, cara.”
He scoots his chair out, grips the table’s edge with one hand, and gets up when Diego is suddenly at his side. A hand under his elbow to help, which I’m suddenly thinking is all an act now that he’s made his intentions clear.
“Let me help you, Dr. Rossi.”
The two shuffle out of the parlor, leaving me and my morals still miffed, clutching my purse. When I catch up with them, Papà is secured in the front seat, and Diego is waiting at my open door.
“Thanks, but I can get my door,” I bark, climbing into the backseat using the running board and interior handle.
“Never said you couldn’t,” he says before shutting the door in my face, escalating my irritation.
The sooner we get home, the better.
Once he’s situated behind the wheel, he starts the engine, and the heat blasts across the cab.
“Where to now?”
I provide him with my address, and he punches it into the navigation on his dashboard before pulling out. He and Papà are talking about Boston and how long he’s been here.
I learn he’s originally from Hawaii. He wants to get as far away from his parents as possible, preferring the surf and sun over the cold and snow. He’s an only child in his last semester before moving to MIT, where he aims to become a Doctor of Chemistry like his idol, my father.
I snort.
Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror momentarily before a deep frown cuts across his handsome face. I’ve struck a nerve, but I don’t know why. Surely, he’s just buttering up my family to get with me.
The ride is thankfully short.
The truck barely pulls to the curb before I jump out with our bags and yank open my father’s door.
“Thanks for everything,” I holler across the cab, helping my father out of the truck, who looks bewildered.
Unfortunately, Diego refuses to take the hint and gets out of the truck to personally say goodbye to “his idol.” I walk ahead and unlock my apartment door, intending to cut this night short.
Diego follows behind as I open the door, his voice warm and animated as he exchanges final words with my father. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the ease with which he charms him. Papà, oblivious to my irritation, clasps Diego’s hand in a firm shake, grinning like they’ve been lifelong friends.
“You’re a good kid,” Papà says, his tone filled with approval that makes my stomach churn. “You’ll do great things.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”
His smile falters slightly when he catches the tightness in my expression.
“Well, I’ll let you two get some rest.”
His tone is neutral, but his eyes are searching mine like he’s trying to gauge if he’s truly back in my good graces. Spoiler alert: he’s not.
“Goodnight, Isabella.”
I swing open the door for my father to get inside. I need a moment alone with this kid to set him straight.
“Go ahead, Papà. I need to talk to my student for a second.”
He nods, adjusting the strap of his sling before crossing the threshold enough for me to set our bags down in the entryway and close the door behind him. Diego’s already walking down the path to his truck.
“Hey,” I yell at him, my temper flaring with all the fakeness he smothered my father in. He turns, surprise wrinkling across his face at my tone. “Let me tell you something.”
I charge after him, ready to unleash on him. His lips curl into a small, knowing smile that irritates me further.
“You can turn on all that charm with me, but you won’t do it to my father. That crosses the line. He’s a nice man and believes in the best of people. Something I won’t let you take advantage of.”
“Sounds like I’m running out of lines to cross with you.”
His infuriating smirk deepens.
“This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some game you can win with charm and a few compliments. My father is not a part of whatever scheme you’ve cooked up to worm your way back into my good graces.”
His smirk fades into something more serious, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.
“Scheme? Is that what you think this is?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I snap, the heat of my anger bubbling over.
He grips my shoulders, his head draws near, and suddenly, his lips are on mine.
My mind is reeling, my body is firing, and my lips move with his.
All the anger, frustration, and irritation swirl into a whirlwind of emotions I can’t entirely untangle.
His kiss is soft yet urgent, a silent plea for understanding mingled with passion.
My hands clench his jacket, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His hands pull me into his body. His tongue slips past my lips to explore my mouth. He groans as I let him.
It’s foreign, forbidden, and exciting.
The taste of his ice cream transfers to me, making his kiss even sweeter. The chemistry I acknowledged and denied sparks into a flame, and I’m unsure I want to smother it.
My worries about him, me, and the ethics fade into a blur, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine and his tongue twisting with mine. I can’t suppress my moan. It’s illegal to be this turned on by someone not only so much younger but also my student.
My brain hates the taboo of it, but my pussy wets at the thought. He’s wild and reckless, just like when I ride. Being with him sexually would unlock the outlet reserved only for my street bike.
The only outlet I’ve had in a very long time. I’m almost deserving of another, more forbidden passion. He groans, pushing his hips into mine, and the sudden feel of his hard erection against my stomach pulls me back to reality. I push him away and pant hot breaths into the cool air.
He stares at me as I do him.
His usual cocky facade is replaced by an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes, searching for my reaction. It’s stalled out. Conflicted about what just happened. He starts a chemical reaction that can’t be undone, and the explosion is moments from happening.
“What the hell, Diego?”
“I think you want me, Isabella. And I think you’re hating me for it.”
I pull my blazer tighter around me as the chill of his words slides down my spine. He’s got one thing wrong in his hypothesis. Saying I want him versus should I want him versus can I want him? All different angles to approach the same problem, yet yield radically different results.
Do I?
Yes.
Should I?
No.
Can I?
No.
And hate him?
I don’t hate anyone. But I am highly irritated and frustrated. Yes.
“I think you should go.”
I take a step backward as his hand runs through his hair.
“You won’t even admit it to yourself, huh?”
His head shakes, his jaw tightens, and he takes several steps backward.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not scheming. Your dad has been my idol since I read his book Chemical Magic in sixth grade.
I got to see him a long time ago at a convention.
I had my mom fly us to the mainland to attend.
It was at Berkley. He spoke about advanced reaction mechanisms in organic chemistry.
I was the only kid there, probably the youngest in the audience.
Your dad noticed too. He took a few minutes to talk to me afterward.
It changed everything for me. Meeting him again? It was . . . surreal.”
His voice softens as he speaks, becoming almost wispy at the end. For the first time tonight, I glimpse the boy he once was. Wide-eyed and eager, standing in awe of my father.
It disarms me.
When I say nothing, he mutters something to himself and turns to walk to his truck. Every step he takes has me fighting myself until I finally decide.
“Diego?”
He stops, gazing at me over the hood of his truck.
“See you in class.”
He doesn’t say a word.
His eyes hold mine for a moment longer. Then he turns, opens the door, and climbs into his truck. The engine roars to life, and he takes off. His tires screech their protest on the cold asphalt.
I’m left alone with my thoughts and his kiss’s undeniable, lingering taste.