Chapter 15 #2
How do I explain to him about meeting her dad, helping them to the urgent care and back, even Isabella laying down her bike, which gave me the biggest fucking heart attack?
No, all of that goes way beyond needing a good fuck.
It was more than that. It is more. I just don’t know what took the lynchpin out to blow shit up between us.
“Okay, could she be after your money? Maybe she looked you up and realized your family owns half of Hawaii?”
I glare at him.
This is his worry about everyone he meets, not me. Most people don’t give a shit about family-made money from Hawaii. Most people can’t even pronounce my last name correctly, and they don’t care about the legacy behind it.
Not that she would care, either.
She comes from a highly esteemed legacy worth far more than money, scholarly brilliance, and knowledge that carries prestige no dollar amount could match.
“Not a chance.”
“It’s probably her job. If she gets caught messing with a student, she’s canned.
We both know that. Remember the twins telling us about that dude at Boston College fucking a first-year?
She was barely legal, and the guy had a wife and kids.
They fired his ass and settled when her parents threatened to sue. ”
“I remember,” I mumble, wishing that weren’t the case but knowing it is. She said as much, but after she exploded all over my cock. “If that’s it, why fuck me? Why even let it get that far? It’s fucking with my head.”
I stare at the table, picking at a divot in the cheap laminate. A roar goes up around the bar, too loud to be ignored. Emilio’s hands are in the air, and his face is smeared with the jello rainbow color as he chants victory. Massimo is busy making out with the shot girl right next to them.
I already know how this night will end, and yet I suddenly feel more restless than ever. I don’t want what the twins are getting, and I don’t want another random fuck that Holli will end the night with. What I want is sitting in her house, nursing her father, and ignoring me.
“Diego,” Holli says after a moment, his tone more serious now. I glance at him, wondering what other non-helpful wisdom he will spill.
“You can’t control how she feels. But you can control what you do next.
So, what’s the move? Are you going to talk to her, or are you just going to sit here and let this eat you alive, or are you going to find a sweet pussy in this bar?
There are several to choose from. More if you’re into threesomes. ”
I don’t respond to these stupid suggestions. I know one thing. I either try again or walk away. I can’t keep running in circles like this. Something’s got to give.
“I don’t fucking—”
My words die in the air between us as Em comes running over to the booth with a pitcher in each hand and spilling the shit all over the table. I jump out of the booth as the golden liquid races toward the table's edge.
Massimo follows with his hand draped around the girl’s waist, where her shirt is tied into a knot underneath her ample breasts. She’s giggling, clearly wasted like Em, leaving Massi the quasi-sober one between them.
That’s saying a fucking lot.
“I won us beer and the girl,” Em yells over the loud music.
His face is sticky and coated with the crap. His smile is crooked as he leans toward Holli to climb into the booth. Holli practically catches him when he falls forward, puckering his lips and making kissing sounds at the golden boy.
“You want to taste my jello?”
“Get the hell away from me!” Holli yells, laughing but clearly trying to fend him off.
“I love you, Holli Holls. Holli Balls!” Emilio slurs, leaning in closer. His beer-soaked grin wide and shameless.
“Get your brother, man.”
“You’re a mess.” Massimo grabs his brother’s arm, tugging it and almost clocking the chick in the face, trapped between them. “Why don’t you chill the fuck out?”
Emilio grins at him, unfazed.
“Lighten up, Massi! I’m just spreading the love. Diego looks like he needs it the most! His micro dick hasn’t been touched in months.”
“He has a little dick?”
The chick giggles, high-pitched and annoying as fuck, leaning into Em as he points at me.
“Yeah, D, get it out. Show her your teeny tiny teeter-totter.”
Em cackles, grabbing the pitcher of beer to pour into a glass and missing it entirely. Holli takes it away from him, pours it half full, and slides it toward me, still standing at the table’s edge.
Her blurry eyes widen, staring at Em and me as if I’d ever do such a thing. Sure, I had sex last night at a public park, but that was between her and me, not laying out my cock in a bar like Em would probably do.
“Diego looks like he’s about to knock you out,” Holli mutters, sliding further into the booth to give himself some distance.
I glare at Emilio, my fists clenching at my sides. I would if his bulky brother weren’t here to beat my ass.
“Fucking idiot,” I mutter, my patience officially shot. “I’m out.”
Holli’s eyes flick to me, his grin fading slightly as he sits up straighter.
“Wait, Diego. Don’t go.”
“Nah, man. I can’t deal with his shit tonight,” I snap, grabbing my helmet from the booth seat and tucking it under my arm.
“Aw, come on!” Emilio calls after me, but I’m already turning toward the door. “You’re turning into that bitch Dominic. Holli, he’s always leaving. Why is everyone always leaving?”
His questions meant for Holli ring in my ears with sad desperation and ignorance that he hasn’t a clue that he’s the problem. He’s the reason everyone leaves.
The cool night air slaps me in the face as I step outside, the noise and chaos of the bar fading behind me. Sliding onto my bike, I put on my helmet and start the engine. The familiar growl grounds me as I pull out of the parking lot onto the empty street.
The ride is meant to clear my head, to work through the frustration knotting in my chest. But every curve of the road, every stretch of asphalt, brings me back to the same question.
Why the hell did she let it get this far if she was going to push me away?
I lean into the bike, letting the speed build as the wind whips past me.
I can still feel the way she leaned against me.
Her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her body moving in sync with mine.
The way she pressed so close, trusting me completely.
How does that fit with the blame she threw at me right before?
The questions burn, twisting in my gut like a chemical reaction spiraling out of control. And then, suddenly, it hits me.
Catalyst.
The word flashes through my mind like a lightning strike, sharp and undeniable.
She’s the catalyst.
She started this. Set the reaction in motion. Now, she’s trying to step back like she wasn’t a part of it. But that’s not how it works.
Catalysts change the reaction.
They become part of it. They can’t just pull out and expect everything to return to equilibrium.
My grip tightens on the handlebars as the analogy sharpens in my mind. If she’s the catalyst, then I’m the stabilizer. I can’t change what happened, but I can keep this from blowing up in our faces.
I either walk away or show her that this reaction doesn’t have to end in disaster.
One thing’s clear.
I’m not done with Isabella Rossi.
Not yet.