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Wicked Game - James Vincent McMorrow

ISABELLA

The way Harry spoke fascinated me. His voice slow, his accent accentuated by his low, raspy tone. I could tell that he was careful when choosing which word he said. He didn't speak to speak. He would mull over the words that he would say, each one being an open window to his mind and soul. 

I could watch his lips move every minute of the day and not once be bored. His mind and thoughts had a way of captivating me. He was captivating. I was hooked. 

It was now the end of the day. The store had been relatively busy, but still slow enough to sit and read with Harry. He had made it a routine to come by from eleven in the morning and stay until four in the evening; an hour after opening and an hour before closing. I wasn't sure why he would always choose those hours to stop by. He never really spoke to me about it. Granted, I never asked. But I wasn't going to complain about it, that was for sure. 

The summer sun had begun to lower in the sky, it's warm rays down casting over the vacant roads. I enjoyed this time of the day. It wasn't hot out but it wasn't cold. It was the perfect weather. The sun was still out, making it easy to walk back home. I loved it. 

I quickly locked the door, double checking that everything was safely shut. I began to walk down the street until I heard my name being called. I quickly turned around, straining my eyes to see who that voice belonged to. 

Behind the glare of the sun, a quiff of blonde hair began to make it's way over to me. Chase. He ran over to me, a big smile plastered on his face. 

"Izzy! I thought it was you." He pulled me into an non-expectant hug. I quickly reciprocated it by wrapping my arms around his medium build. 

"Hey," I pulled back and flashed a small smile. "Fancy seeing you around here." 

He returned my small smile and quirked one of his eyebrows, "Do you work around here?" He asked. 

"Yeah. Hemingway Books." I pointed to the small bookstore. He hummed in response and turned back so that he was facing me once again. 

"I didn't know that place existed."

"Not many do." 

"A hole in the wall," he stated. 

"That would be it." I shifted from one foot to the other. I stuck my hands in my jean pockets and looked around. I wasn't sure what to do or to say to Chase. I hadn't seen or talked to him since the small get together that Jaz had thrown a few weeks before. I had forgotten how attractive he was. His Irish-British accent sending the familiar chill down my spine. 

"Say, I've been meaning to ask you something since that first night we met." He stepped closer towards me, "Would you like to go grab a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." 

I hesitated, unsure of what his intentions were. "I don't know-"

"It's only a drink Izzy." He laughed, cutting me off. 

"Right." I looked down at my feet once again and ran a hand through my messy curls. "I guess a drink would be fine." 

"Great!" He flashed a rather charming smile and grabbed my arm gently. "This way then." 

Chase led us down the road towards a small bar. It wasn't too packed but still quite busy. "This way." He led us towards a waitress, flashing her his charming smile. 

"Hello! How can I help you." The blond waitress asked. She flicked her eyes up and down Chase's body, not being obvious at all. She looked over at me and quirked an eyebrow. 

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