Chapter 12
ISABELLA
The morning light streams through the tall windows of my classroom. My refuge from the storm of confusing thoughts and moments gathering in my mind.
Nothing else happened beyond Diego staying with me until the wrecker crew loaded up my bike.
He assured me they would get an estimate as soon as possible, standing alongside the guys to discuss the condition and potential repairs.
His knowledge of bikes and his comment about breaking several bones in the past piqued my curiosity. But I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell.
As I watched them take my baby away, the red taillights disappeared into the night, he handed me my helmet, and prodded me toward his bike. At first, I was hesitant, despite knowing it was a foregone conclusion that was the only way to get home, short of waiting for another ride.
He didn’t seem to mind my hesitation. He just got on his bike, fiddled with the kickstand and GPS, and ultimately left the decision up to me.
When I finally climbed onboard, he reached for my hands, tucked them around his waist, and patted them lightly without saying a word. I hadn’t ridden with someone in years, and the feeling of handing over control, even to an experienced rider like Diego, made me nervous.
Yet, with his strong but narrow frame between my arms, my gloved palms tucked against his ribs, he navigated the streets with a cautious slowness that I appreciated and found comforting after what had happened.
Leaning into the turns as a harmonious pair, becoming one with the road and rider, surprised me. The intimacy left my heart aching in a way I wasn’t prepared to face.
No flirting.
No more discussion about us.
He helped me to my door with a strong arm around my waist while I limped beside him. My body was crying out in different areas from that hard fall. Having taken lessons years ago and learned how to land safely should the bike hit something, I avoided serious injury. Thankfully.
Standing on the stoop in front of my apartment, I leaned in impulsively for another kiss.
He pulled away, shaking his head.
His voice was soft, almost apologetic.
“Not tonight, Isabella. Get some rest, and we’ll talk later.”
And then he was gone.
Leaving me alone with nothing but the roar of his powerful engine disappearing into the night. I drew a hot bath and sat in the water, listening to the soft sound of my father fast asleep.
Diego has consumed my thoughts for the last two days, no matter how hard I try to push him out.
The fear on his face when he first ran over to me was palpable.
I hit so hard that my vision was blurred.
The sound of concern in his voice was unmistakable.
I hadn’t realized that it was him. Too shocked by the wreck to react appropriately.
I still analyze what went wrong. After riding thousands of miles with hardly any wipeouts, a divot in the road snagged my back tire, sending it in the opposite direction of my prediction.
I leaned in for a second, and the next thing I knew, I was skidding across the hard road.
A piece of my bike broke my helmet’s visor as it slid away.
Anger replaced Diego’s fear, catching me off guard until that simple kiss. Warm and comforting. As if showing me his feelings without needing to voice them.
Students begin filing into the lab, their chatter bouncing off the sterile white walls and snapping me out of my reverie. I plaster on a professional smile and move to the front of the room, ready for an active lab day.
My breath catches when I see him. Diego walks in early, his confidence radiating off him, but my attention quickly shifts to who’s following him.
Papà.
They’re murmuring.
Diego’s hand instinctively lingers in the air behind my father while he adjusts the sling on his injured arm. They are both grinning like this is the most natural thing in the world, but my irritation is rising faster than my curiosity.
“What is going on?” I demand with the same authority I use to maintain order in my lectures.
“Professor Rossi.”
His words float to me, but his attention is on the elder Professor Rossi, who sits on a stool at the empty lab table at the back of the class. The stool is a terrible idea, given what already happened.
Diego dumps his backpack on the table, knocking around some of the beakers, and then jogs toward me.
Just when I think he will answer my question, he grabs my chair by the armrests and hoists it above his head to clear the rows of tables.
When he gets to his table, he shares the same unvoiced concerns I have and helps transition my father into the more stable chair.
I lean on the podium, taking everything in while waiting for the two of them to finish before clearing my throat.
“Mr. Kahale?”
His chin juts up, flashing me a guilty smile over the disruption, but not over kidnapping my parent. The universe is either conspiring for my demise, or these two are. Possibly both.
“The other day, you said it was an odd number of students, and my leaving made it even. I figured since I was back in class and still needed a partner, who better than Dr. Rossi?”
I glance between them, my father’s smile wide as if this is an entirely normal thing to do. Diego, at least, has the good sense to keep his expression neutral, though I don’t miss the flicker of tension in his jaw.
“You can’t be serious.”
I cross my arms, the students’ gaze volleys between him and me, waiting to see how this will play out.
“Why not?” My father lifts his good hand, gesturing at his sudden lab partner. “He’s a smart kid and enjoys your class. It’ll be fun.”
The students, sensing the shift in tone, start whispering among themselves. I feel the heat rise to my face as their shared conspiracy erodes my control over the classroom. I glance at Diego, who looks like he’s waiting for a nuclear reactor to explode.
“This isn’t a game.”
I point at them, feeling oddly out of place as they team up against me.
Is this how Mother felt?
“It’s not,” Papà replies, his tone infuriatingly cheerful. “It’s science.”
“It’s not a big deal, Professor,” Diego defends beside my dad.
Yeah, this is exactly how my mother felt when I parroted my father all those years to her voiced concerns.
“You figured wrong.”
Diego’s jaw tightens, but he holds my stare.
“Cara, I’m more than happy to help a student of science. Maybe less capable than I’d like.”
He lifts his sling for effect, his gaze moving over the interested faces, enthralled with our exchange.
“If you would do me the honor of auditing your class?”
I take a sharp breath, trying to rein in my frustration.
“Fine. Everyone, this is the esteemed Dr. Raffael Rossi. A retired tenured chemist from Princeton University, a well-published scientist, my father, and apparently Mr. Kahale’s lab partner. Welcome to Advanced Organic Chemistry.”
My introduction floats over the students’ whispers to the person undermining my authority again. This time, he has an accomplice and, unfortunately, a chemistry genius. The room erupts in a round of applause.
My father beams and nods several times while I tamper down my emotions to start the lab. I gaze at the new partners in crime, watching Diego set up their workstations and wondering what new game he’s playing.
I exhale, knowing it’s another discussion pushed aside to focus on my lesson for the day.
The two of them work together like a well-oiled machine. Diego’s hands move deftly, measuring liquids and adjusting burners with the ease of someone who’s spent plenty of time in a lab.
Despite his sling, my father leans in close, gestures at the periodic table hanging on the wall, or scribbles something on a nearby notepad.
Every now and then, Diego leans in to say something, and Papà responds with something that lights up his face. It’s clear they are having a good time, much to my annoyance. They’re too comfortable, too in sync with each other.
It’s distracting, to say the least.
When the clock finally ticks down to the last minute, I dismiss the class. Some linger to tidy their stations and offer polite goodbyes to my father, but most shuffle out quickly. Diego, of course, stays behind, unbothered and unrushed.
“Mr. Kahale.”
My voice is tight.
My nerves are raw from watching this unexpected friendship evolve between them.
“A word. Outside.”
His brows lift slightly, but he nods. He glances at Papà for help, who waves him off with a chuckle, already engrossed in whatever he’s concocting.
My student follows me into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind us with a quiet click.
The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting shadows along the cream-colored walls.
I turn to face him, ready to demand answers, but before I can speak, he steps closer, his hand wrapping around my arm.
“What are you—”
His mouth crashes against mine, cutting off my words. My back hits the wall with a soft thud, the cool surface biting through my sweater. His grip is firm but not harsh, his body pressing against mine in a way that makes my pussy flood with lust.
For a split second, I give in, my hands curling into fists while grasping his shirt. His lips move against mine, desperate and insistent. The heat of him and the passion behind his kiss consume me like a flash fire.
His tongue strokes the flames of my desire as his hand cups my breast. A hungry groan ripples out of him and into me, shoving me back into reality.
My fists unroll to splay against his chest, shoving him back and breaking the kiss with enough force that he steps back. My breathing is ragged, my pulse is thundering, and my glare is blazing.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He runs a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto mine.
“What I wanted to do all morning. You look so pretty today.”
My hands tremble as I press them against my sides, battling my rage and his audacity.