16. Isla
ISLA
Iblink against the morning light streaming through Killian’s floor-to-ceiling windows, my hand instinctively reaching for the warmth that should be there but isn’t. The sheets on his side of the bed are cold, which means he hasn’t been here for a while.
I sit up slowly, my cheek still throbbing with a dull, persistent ache and the memory of last night comes flooding back. The whiffle ball game, Killian carrying me to his car, the shower that was somehow both innocent and the most intimate experience of my life.
He didn’t kiss me.
He didn’t even try.
I remember waking sometime in the middle of the night and seeing him sprawled across the couch near the bed, his long legs dangling over the armrest. Even in sleep, he looked troubled, his brow furrowed, his lips moving slightly as if arguing with someone in his dreams.
But now the couch is empty too.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand so I grab it thinking maybe it’s Killian from another room. But it’s Tara’s name I see on the screen.
Tara
Hey! Checking in from Orlando. How are you feeling this morning? Still alive?
Me
Hey. Just woke up. Face still hurts but I think the swelling is better.
Tara
And how’s our favorite pitcher?
Me
Uh, not sure. He wasn’t in the bed when I woke up.
Tara
PAUSE. BACK UP. WASN’T IN THE BED? Are you telling me you two SLEPT IN THE SAME BED?? GIRL! I feel you are leaving out some major tea here!
Me
Actually, he slept on the couch in his room, which is next to the bed. I accidentally fell asleep on his bed watching television and he didn’t kick me out. I feel kind of bad. He has a game today but he slept on the couch. He’s got to be sore now.
Tara
Wait. So, he slept on the couch? While you were in his bed? That’s...interesting.
Me
Is it? I don’t know. Maybe he was just being a gentleman.
Tara
A gentleman? Killian Haynes? The same guy who told you he “fucks it out” when he’s stressed? That guy?
Me
Yeah, well. Things are...complicated.
Tara
Complicated how? Did something happen between you two?
I stare at my phone, trying to figure out how to explain the tension that’s been building between us. The way he looked at me in the shower. The way his hands felt on my skin. The almost-kiss and then the way he pulled away instead of following through.
Me
We took a shower together. Well, he helped me shower because I couldn’t get my face wet. It was...intimate. But also, not intimate. Nothing happened at all. I mean maybe it did? We sort of almost kissed but then he backed off.
Tara
Oh my GOD. So, he didn’t make a move? Not even a little one?
Me
Nope. He was a perfect gentleman.
Tara
Hmm. Interesting.
Me
Why do you keep saying that? What’s interesting?
Tara
That he didn’t even TRY anything. Most guys would have at least tested the water, especially after seeing you naked.
Me
I wasn’t naked. We kept our underwear on, so it was like I was wearing a bathing suit. Maybe he just respected my boundaries? We did agree to no sex as part of our arrangement.
Tara
LOL that’s not what you told me. I mean yeah, I guess he agreed, but he didn’t want to agree to that. Let’s be real. And after seeing you in his shower? Come on! There’s zero chance he isn’t interested.
Me
Maybe he’s really not interested then because I promise you nothing happened.
Tara
That kiss at the game was not him saying he’s not interested. We all saw it.
Me
Tara, I’m just doing him a favor.
Tara
ROFLMAO Girl, you could be doing him a lot of favors right about now!
I roll my eyes at Tara’s message, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. She’s not entirely wrong.
Me
You’re ridiculous. This isn’t about that.
Tara
Then what is it about? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you wanted him to make a move and he didn’t, and now you’re disappointed.
Me
I’m not disappointed. I’m just...confused. Why would he go through all that trouble to help me shower and then not even try to kiss me?
Tara
Maybe because he actually cares about you? Like, genuinely cares? Not just as a fake girlfriend but as a real person?
I stare at her message. The thought sends a flutter through me that I immediately try to suppress. This isn’t supposed to be real. We agreed on that.
Me
That’s not possible. This is just a favor, remember?
Tara
Are you sure about that? Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Isla. That man is not faking anything.
Me
He’s an actor. He has to be convincing.
Tara
Umm, last time I checked, baseball players are not actors unless they’re playing one in a movie. Also, seriously Isla? How can you be so obtuse about this? I’ve seen you two together. That’s not acting. And I think you know it.
When I don’t answer for a few minutes because I’m reading Tara’s words over and over again, she sends another text.
Tara
Nobody fakes the way he looks at you. I saw it at the whiffle ball game before you got smacked. That man is GONE for you.
Me
He’s not gone for me. He’s just...good at pretending.
Tara
Uh huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night…in Killian’s bed. Probably wearing one of his shirts because yours was all bloody. Tell me, when you were showering with him, did you want him to kiss you?
I swallow hard because the truth feels dangerous to admit, even to myself.
Me
Yes.
Tara
And when he didn’t, how did that make you feel? Disappointed, right? You can be honest with me.
Me
Yes.
Tara
Thought so. You’re falling for him, Isla.
And I think he’s falling for you too. This whole “fake” thing is just an excuse you’re both using because you’re scared.
Maybe you’re both scared. I don’t know, but I do know three things: 1.
You guys look cute together, 2. He clearly cares for you, and 3.
You obviously have some sort of feelings for him too that you don’t want to admit.
Tara
Okay, let’s add one more to the list. 4. If you don’t sleep with him at least once, even if it’s just for fun, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Me
Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I’ve got to go. I need to get out of his hair so he can prepare for the game tonight.
Tara
Love you, babe. I’m really glad you’re okay!
Me
Love you too!
I set my phone down, my heart rate up a bit after chatting with my bestie.
Tara’s words echo in my mind, forcing me to confront feelings I’ve been desperately trying to ignore.
The thing is, she’s right. I did want Killian to kiss me last night.
I wanted him to make a move, to break our stupid agreement, even if it was just once.
But he didn’t. And now I’m left wondering why.
Was he just being respectful?
Or am I simply not enough for him?
I push myself out of bed, wincing as my cheek throbs in protest. I pad across the cool hardwood floor in just his T-shirt and boxers, into the master bathroom. There’s a brand-new toothbrush waiting for me on the counter which I take full advantage of before trying to find where Killian is.
I check the kitchen and the balcony but he’s not there.
“Killian?” I call out, my voice still rough with sleep but there’s no answer. The apartment feels too big and too empty without his presence, so I grab my phone and text him.
Me
Hey, where are you? I woke up and you’re gone.
I wait, staring at the screen, but no response comes. My stomach twists with something that feels similar to the disappointment I felt last night in the shower.
Maybe he had an early meeting or practice.
Maybe he needed space after last night.
Or maybe he’s regretting everything…
Maybe he wishes I wasn’t here…
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the negative thoughts. This isn’t like me. I don’t spiral over guys. I don’t get attached. And I certainly don’t feel this strange emptiness when they’re not around.
The hallway leading to the other rooms stretches before me, and I notice a door slightly ajar at the end. I haven’t explored this part of his apartment before.
“Killian?” I call again as I approach and push the door open wider.
The room beyond is unlike the rest of his sleek, modern apartment.
It’s a personal training space, complete with workout equipment, a pitching machine, and various sports paraphernalia.
But none of the heavy things in this room catch my attention the way Killian does the moment I spot him.
Sitting on the floor, his back is against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. His hair is damp, like he’s showered recently.
He’s wearing a simple gray T-shirt and athletic shorts but it’s his expression that takes my breath away.
Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes are unfocused, his breathing is shallow and rapid, and his hands are trembling slightly where they grip his knees.
Oh God!
“Killian?” I approach slowly, keeping my voice gentle. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer as he stares at some invisible point in front of him, his breathing still rapid and shallow. I’ve never seen him like this before. This beautiful, vulnerable man, stripped of all his cocky confidence.
I lower myself to my knees on the floor beside him. “Killian, can you hear me?”
His jaw tightens, but he gives me the slightest nod. His hands are still gripping his knees so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.
What do I do?
He’s having an anxiety attack.
What do I do?
How do I help him?
Think, Isla! Think!
Deep breaths.
Right!
“Okay,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice calm despite the panic rising in my own chest. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that? Will you breathe with me?”
I tenderly place a hand over his and take an exaggerated breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly. After a few seconds, Killian mimics me, his chest expanding with a shaky inhale.
“Good,” I encourage. “Let’s do that again.”
We breathe together for a few more cycles, and I notice some of the tension leaving his shoulders. His grip on his knees loosens slightly, but he grips my hand now with an intensity I didn’t expect.
Like I’m his lifeline.
“Talk to me,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “What’s going through your mind?”