Isla

32.

3 2 | n e w  y o r k

I SAT ON EVERETT'S MATTRESS, my legs crossing as I watched him pack his clothes messily into his suitcase.

"You know, if you fold them, you'll be able to fit more in."

He turned to me, squatting over his suitcase with a painful frown. "But that takes so long."

I rolled my eyes, slipping from the mattress to sit on the floor beside him. I took one t-shirt from his hands, our fingers brushing on the way.

"It'll take you double the time trying to cram all that in there," I said pointedly.

He paused, raising a brow and a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips. Instantly, I warmed, throwing the t-shirt at his face. It hit him right when he began laughing and I grabbed another shirt, throwing it at him when he didn't stop.

"Shut up," I whined, half-humiliated. "That's not what I meant."

"Are you sure?" he teased, lowering his voice in a joking smoulder. He leaned closer, taking my wrist into his hand and pushing me so that my back hit the floor.

He hovered over me, his smirk cocky and arrogant. His grip tightened on my wrist, with his brow still raised as he waited for my reaction. I ignored the heat blossoming across my face and the painful thudding of my heart, erratic in my chest.

Instead, I leaned up, brushing my lips across his. "I don't know. You tell me."

His eyes widened, the smirk falling off his lips. I watched as a blush crept up his neck, spreading to his ears until he was bright red.

"Well?" I teased, my voice barely a breath between us.

"I – I mean – If you –"

I laughed at his reaction, pulling my wrist out from his hand and shoving his chest until he was sitting upright.

"Don't tease if you're not going to follow through, Ev," I said, arching a brow at him. I traced a finger over his chest, smirking snidely. I heard his breath hitch in his throat before jabbing his chest and turning back to the suitcase – half-packed. "Now pack. Your flight is in a few hours, and you still have to drive down to Sydney."

He pouted, but followed my lead, picking up a t-shirt and begrudgingly folding it neatly.

"But I don't want to leave," he muttered finally, his voice quiet.

I paused, gently placing the folded t-shirt into the suitcase.

"Ev," I said, reaching out to take his hand. His eyes flickered to meet mine – that bright hazel that I knew I'd miss the minute he left. "You're going to have to face them at some point."

I didn't have to name them. His father. His soon to be stepmother. Emma and his ex-best friend.

"I know," he said, frowning. He flipped his hand, taking mine into his and brushing his thumb along my skin. "I just – I wish you could be with me."

"About that..."

His eyes snapped up, meeting mine with a sort of flaming fire. I squeezed his hand, a pressure building up in my chest and burning erupting behind my eyes.

But I refused to look away. I had to say it, and I had to say it to his face.

"Maybe we should break up."

"No," he said immediately. His voice cracked and he shook his head wildly, pulling me closer until I was practically on top of the suitcase. His hands ran down my arms before rubbing my legs as he took in a shaky breath. "No. We're not breaking up. We can do this, Isla. I just – I just got you."