Chapter 22
ISABELLA
“That smells delicious already. But you really didn’t have to make dinner. We could have ordered in, or I could have just gone home.”
The scent of garlic and olive oil weaves through the air, grounding me in his space, which feels too easy to settle into. My arm drapes around his waist, and my cheek presses against the bare skin of his shoulder.
He’s only wearing sexy gray sweatpants. His muscles shift under my touch as he stirs the pan. His warmth seeps into me, wrapping around the quiet hum of peace and contentment in my chest.
“Don’t even talk about going home, Iz. We have plenty of time this evening before I lose you to work, stress, and the always uptight Professor Rossi.”
His hand moves with practiced ease, flipping the chicken in the skillet to accompany the pasta he has boiling. I chuckle, squeezing him a little.
“I heard she’s a nightmare teacher. A real hard ass.”
“She’s the worst, but I can attest to her ass being very hard.”
His chuckle rumbles beneath my cheek.
This day has been a rollercoaster of emotions, marked by the unexpected goodbye to my father as he returns to his life in Princeton. Diego listened to my concerns, sitting through my worries and sorting through my thoughts in a caring manner that I didn’t even know I needed.
Then the sex, my God.
It’s been amazing.
Round after round. We both needed a shower, a nap, and food.
The first two are already done. The meal was the last part before he warned me there would be another round.
Something that had me squealing with excitement as I ran down the hall with his t-shirt in hand and begging off sex until after we ate.
“Best weekend I’ve had in . . . well, ever.”
The playful tone in his voice matches the soft grin tugging at his lips, and I couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Same.”
I beam up at him. My fingers trace lazy circles on his ribcage as I watch him cook.
“Let me take you out next weekend.” He turns down the burner and covers the chicken to cook longer. I attempt to slip from his grasp, only to be caught, twirled, and lifted into the air. “Somewhere nice. Not a go-kart track or abandoned field, I swear. Something that doesn’t involve helmets.”
My feet barely hit the floor before I’m trapped against the counter. His lips are on my neck, nibbling the skin and sending goosebumps into my hair.
“You trying to spoil me now?”
“Maybe.”
I clutch him tighter, using his body as leverage to lean closer to the counter to give him more access to my neck. If he wants to smother me in kisses before we eat, then I’m game.
“Damn, Diego, you really did get her.”
I jump, completely startled. My hand almost hits Diego in the face as we scramble at the sudden and unexpected voice bellowing across the loft.
I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up.
Heat rushes to my face, burning from my neck to the tips of my ears.
I don’t know whether to duck behind the kitchen cabinets or run into the other room.
Diego stiffens beside me.
Standing at the entrance of the open-concept loft is a taller blonde guy, similar in age to Diego, with a more muscular build and wearing a smirk.
“What the fuck, Holli? You have a key for emergencies.”
Diego’s voice is low, clipped. A dangerous calm that makes me swallow hard and tug on the edge of his shirt despite the counter blocking his friend’s view. The guy walks further into the loft, dropping his helmet on the sofa as if he’s staying.
“So, you must be the professor. I’ve heard all about you.”
His eyes rake over me in a cheap and sultry way. If that isn’t repulsive enough, it’s the words and the betrayal in them.
He knows about us?
Diego told his friends about me?
Stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. A horrible chill sweeps over me, settling deep into my bones at the realization that we’re not as secret as I thought.
“You told your friend about us?”
The words rip from my throat, slicing through the tense air. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my throat, swimming with the bile that’s suddenly there. Diego’s face drains of color. His mouth parts, but no words come out. His hand still lingers near my waist and hovers uselessly.
“Yeah, said he needed to pass your class to graduate.” His friend runs a hand through his hair as if preening for my effect. “He’s just one credit away.”
The sickening feeling drops into my stomach. The threat of vomiting intensifies with every word that spills from this guy’s mouth.
“Is that true?”
I move away from Diego to get a better look at the emotions flickering over his face while looking at the floor. My hand trembles as it covers my mouth. My wide eyes move from my lover to his friend and back, waiting for a horrible confirmation that I already know is true.
“I-Iz, it’s not what you think.”
Humiliation surges over my skin, making me instantly hot and sweaty.
“Not what I think?” I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Diego, your friend just walked in here and practically congratulated you for screwing me. What exactly am I supposed to think?”
Diego flinches, dragging a hand through his messy hair, gripping the strands as if that could pull a coherent answer from his brain. His jaw tightens, but I see the panic in his eyes.
“I didn’t—Holli’s an idiot, okay? I didn’t tell him anything important.”
“Important?”
My voice cracks with disbelief.
I step back, tugging the shirt’s hemline as far as it will go to the floor, which isn’t much. With most of my legs still revealed, I move to the end of the island, away from Diego and his friend’s curious gaze.
“He knows I’m your professor, for Christ’s sake. What exactly did you tell him?”
His shoulders stiffen as he moves, making me tense, ready for whatever's coming. But instead, he turns off the burner, abandoning the dinner he was making for us.
“I didn’t sit around telling stories, alright? He just . . . picked up on things.”
Even I know it’s a lie when his buddy looks away, suddenly interested in Diego’s view of the harbor.
“Picked up on things?” I echo the words like acid on my tongue. “That’s your excuse? You couldn’t even bother to keep this, us, private? We agreed to that. In fact, you said it first, if I recall.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He reaches toward me, and I instantly shake my head. “It wasn’t some big conversation.”
“Oh, so what was it then? A joke between friends? A trophy story?”
My chest is heaving the same as his. He attempts to reach for me again, desperate, but I recoil, stepping back, my glare razor-sharp.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand falls limply to his side. His mouth opens and closes like choking on words he can’t say.
“Iz, please, listen to me.”
But I’m already turning away, my pulse pounding in my ears. From the corner of the room, Hollister clears his throat awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.
“Look, man, maybe I should—”
“Get the fuck out, Holli!” Diego’s voice is a snarl, sharp and venomous.
His friend’s hands shoot up in surrender. Why he’s still here is beyond me. Why I’m still here is beyond me, but that’s something I can quickly resolve. The only thing in my control in this uncontrollable situation.
“By all means, you stay. I’m leaving.”
I point to his friend, who is casting awkward glances between me and Diego. I sprint past him, snatching up my clothes until I reach the bedroom. I nearly trip pulling on my jeans, giving up on finding my underwear altogether.
Diego runs into the room, his hands clasped together, pacing like a caged animal.
“Please don’t do this.”
I don’t respond when I rip his t-shirt from my body, wishing I could rip it in half for effect. The room’s cold air rushes over my heated skin in a temporary respite.
“Just talk to me, Iz. Please,” he begs, completely wrecked.
I snatch my bra from the floor and pause to glare at him. My breath is shallow. Thankfully, he has the decency not to stare at my breasts while fastening the clasp in the front.
“Talk? Like how you talked about me to your friend? Was it at a big frat party? The one where you got the black eye? Was I the center of attention? Does everyone at BU know about us?”
He looks away, guilty. My gut tells me others know.
But how many?
My count is zero.
His?
No telling.
“I don’t go to BU, lady!”
His friend hollers from the other room. I point at the wall. My fury rises even higher that he’s still here and listening to every damn word.
“Other universities know?!”
My hands tremble, making it difficult to pull on my sweater. I hunt for my socks, knowing I need them underneath my boots to prevent blisters on the long walk home. No, it’s too far to walk. I’ll call a car.
“Izzy, let me explain. It will all make sense. I promise.” Panic overtakes his pleading, and he steps toward me. His palms ghost down my arms until I slap them away.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me. I heard your buddy loud and clear. I was a means to an end. One more grade away from graduating. Just a meaningless fuck to pass my class.”
“It wasn’t like that, Isabella. He just said the wrong fucking thing, and you’re blowing it out of proportion.”
I stop with a boot on and a sock dangling from my hand. My ears deceive me that he’s blaming me for getting caught spilling our secret after we agreed to keep it between us.
“I’m overreacting?”
My eyebrows are so high I feel them in my hairline. My voice is steely low. Even his friend has the intelligence to mutter an “oh shit” on Diego’s behalf.
He knows he crossed the line by the look crawling over his face. Irrevocably ruined whatever we were starting.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He reaches for me again out of sheer panic, needing to correct his word choice, but there’s no fixing what’s been done. I dart away while pulling on my boot.
“Isabella, please. I fucked up. I needed someone—”
“You needed someone? That’s funny because I thought I needed you. And now look where that got me.”