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Fucking your boyfriend's older brother was certainly not on Isabella's bucket list this summer. Or ever, for that matter.
She barely even remembered the drunken hookup. Waking up in the wrong Cameron's bed, stark naked. If Rafe wasn't in the same state beside her, she would've thought she'd just had one too many drinks and stumbled into the wrong room. But that was not the case, and Rafe wouldn't stop rubbing it in her face every time he saw her. When she sat cuddling on the couch with Kol, Rafe would shoot her a look, a cocky smirk on his face. Or when he saw her at the beach, he'd always compliment how good she looked in her bikini, in front of Kol, like it meant nothing she was his younger brother's girlfriend.
Kol was oblivious. Utterly oblivious. It baffled Isabella how blind he was, somehow always missing the way his brother flirted with his girlfriend.
Isabella felt guilty, yes. But she didn't regret it. . . she knew how horrible that was. She loved Kol. But she didn't regret sleeping with his older brother— she missed it even. Despite her intoxicated state, she remembered the feeling of his hands roaming across her body, how his lips felt against hers, the way he made her feel— prioritising her needs instead of his, she needed him again.
Her freshly painted toenails dipped into the pool as she sat on the edge of the cool tile. In just her wine-coloured bikini, sandals abandoned somewhere across the patio, silver jewellery adorning her neck, Prada sunglasses shielding her from the bright sun, brunette locks cascading down her back. A martini in her left hand, made by Kol. The sun beat down on both her and her boyfriend, layers of sweat coating Isabella as she spoke, "Look at my tan," She pulled the side of her bikini bottom down to reveal the pale skin beneath the material on her hip in comparison to her otherwise bronze skin. "I've only been out here an hour."
Kol chuckled, "When are you not outside? Of course you have a tan." He snickered from beside her, in just a pair of shorts, t-shirt previously discarded.
"Can you get me another drink?" Isabella questioned as she sipped the final drops from her glass, requesting yet another fruity cocktail. The boy complied immediately, standing to his full height and taking the glass from her outstretched arm, heading inside through the glass doors.
Sarah, who was lying on the expensive lounge chairs, chuckled across from her, in her pink and red stripy bikini, lemonade in her hand and designer sunglasses over her eyes. "He's totally your bitch."
Isabella moved from her position by the pool, joining the blonde on the lounge chair beside her. "What else are boyfriends for?"
