isabella [h.s.]

twenty four

**Been tryna' make you more,
more than just a pretty boy**

ISABELLA

Seeing as this Hamptons trip was only for the weekend, I never took the effort to fully unpack in the first place, so the re-packing process is a fairly quick task. Once I've packed my makeup bag and tucked it into the back of my trusty Louis Vuitton speedy, I move onto my clothes, folding up my assortment of bikinis and the cute summer dresses that I now realise I brought way too many of for such a short trip. Now that it's September, I know that once we return to New York it won't take long until autumn sets in and the much colder temperatures ravage through the city, so I decide to pull on a yellow sundress that I haven't worn yet while I still can.

As luck would have it, I'm in the middle of getting dressed when the bedroom door is suddenly opened and Brody walks into the room, causing me to quickly tug the dress down to cover my exposed body. When I glance up at him, I find him dressed in striped shirt and beige chinos, a navy sweater tied around his shoulders. Admittedly, I almost do a double-take when I see him, because I honestly thought people only dressed like that in movies. There's quite a significant paradox between his effortlessly cool fashion in New York and the preppy style he's now wearing, but in line with the other realisations I've had this weekend, it's just more evidence that the chic, smooth-talker I met in the city is not the real Brody at all.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment as his blue eyes scan over my stuff littered across the large bed, seeming to take a few seconds to realise what I'm doing before he finally turns to me with a confused look. "Why are you packing?" he asks.

"Because I'm leaving today," I state simply as if it was a stupid question, which, to be honest, it kind of was. His eyebrows shoot up slightly, clearly surprised by this news, although I can't say I'm surprised by his reaction because I was expecting something along this vein. I knew he would assume that I would happily accept his offer to stay here with him for a couple more days, because in his eyes, what kind of girl would pass up the opportunity to spend a few more days with him lounging in the Hamptons? Maybe a few days ago, I would've been that girl, but now, I can't think of anything worse than spending a second longer in his presence.

Silently, Brody gently pushes the door shut behind him before stepping further into the room, stopping once he's stood directly opposite me with the bed between us. "I thought we agreed we were going to stay here a few more days?"

"No, you offered that," I remind him calmly, folding up a pair of denim jeans and placing them into my bag. "I never accepted that offer."

"But why?" he asks with a frown, seeming confused as to why I'm not ecstatically jumping at the chance to spend more time here, with him and in this impressive house no less. I have to stop myself from laughing at his sense of entitlement, beginning to wonder how on earth I never noticed it before. "I thought we were going to do all the stuff we missed out on this weekend?"

"The stuff you missed out on," I correct him.

"Well, yeah, but I had to do my work, it was unavoidable. My job is very important, you know," he chastises, the arrogance of his tone causing me to fight back an eye-roll. "I can't just take a weekend off whenever I feel like it."

I pause from packing to look up at him, narrowing my eyes. "Then why did you bother even inviting me here? What was the point if you knew you'd be busy with work the whole time?"

"I didn't know I would be busy with work," he retorts. "My boss is working on a lot of cases right now, so that means I have a lot of work to do too. I don't know what you're getting at right now, but I'm not going to apologise for being a hard-worker, Isabella."