Chapter 91 Do You Truly Want Her Name?

Chapter 91 Do You Truly Want Her Name?

Isabella's POV

By the time dinner ended, it was already past nine.

The four of us walked out of the barbecue restaurant. Reveille stood under the streetlight, pounding his chest, his booming voice loud enough for the whole street to hear.

"Isabella! Anna and I will definitely be there to support you at the Spring Gala! I'll whistle for you from the front row!"

"If you dare whistle, I'll rip off your other ear too." Anna kicked him. I couldn't help but laugh.

Anna came over and gave me a hug. Her perfume smelled nice. As she let go, she suddenly leaned close to my ear and lowered her voice.

"Honey, when Terrence used to come to our gatherings on leave, he'd always drink alone and barely say a word all night. But lately when he messages us, he always mentions you, one way or another. You're... different to him."

My head buzzed.

Before I could ask more, Anna had already stepped back. She waved at me with a smile, then pulled Reveille toward a taxi at the corner.

Terrence stood beside me, one hand in his leather jacket pocket, watching them leave.

"Let's go," he turned to look at me. "I'll take you home."

I obediently followed him to the car. Leaning back in the passenger seat, I secretly touched my stomach.

"Terrence."

"Mm?" He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, eyes on the road ahead.

"You put too much pork belly on my plate tonight," I complained quietly. "I feel like my jeans are getting tighter."

He glanced over, his gaze quickly sweeping across my waist before returning to the road.

"What if I gain weight and Dustin can't lift me at tomorrow's rehearsal? If his arms give out mid-air, I'll fall onto the main stage with my violin."

Terrence snorted, his tone full of disdain. "You're light as paper. If he can't even lift you, that's because he's been slacking at the gym—all show muscles, no real strength. Not your problem."

I laughed. The atmosphere in the car was relaxed, nothing like the tension on that single bed last night.

A red light ahead. The car stopped. I looked at his hand on the steering wheel, the defined knuckles, a few faint old scars on the back.

"Terrence," I dropped the smile and looked seriously at his profile. "Thank you for bringing me tonight. Your friends are really nice. I had a great time."

He stared at the red light, something flickering in his eyes.

"I had a great time too."

The light turned green and the car started moving again.

But as we got closer to the apartment, that impulse inside me became harder and harder to suppress. Anna's whispered words, Reveille's drunken shout about "he's crazy in love with you"—they kept spinning in my head.

I twisted my fingers together, nails digging into my palm.

"Terrence..." I took a deep breath.

"What."

"What Reveille said at dinner... is it true?"

I heard my own voice trembling.

The air in the car seemed to freeze instantly. The veins on Terrence's hand bulged as he gripped the steering wheel. He didn't answer.

I bit my lip and kept going.

"Or did he misunderstand, thinking you like me when it's actually someone else? If you really do like someone... I won't take up your time anymore. I don't want to get in the way, and I don't want the person you like to get the wrong idea—"

Screech!

The brakes screamed. The car jerked to a stop, tires burning rubber on the asphalt. I lurched forward and was yanked back hard by the seatbelt.

"Shut up." Terrence turned to stare at me. "Isabella, don't say stupid things like that."

I was scared, shrinking into my seat, my eyes stinging instantly.

Why was he so angry?

I clenched my jaw and turned to look out the window, saying nothing more.

Terrence looked at my tense shoulders, his Adam's apple bobbing. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He restarted the car. "It's... complicated."

I ignored him. For the rest of the drive, neither of us spoke.

The car stopped in the outdoor parking lot under the apartment building. It was dark here, just one dim streetlight. Maurice's car wasn't there.

The moment the engine died, I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the car door open, jumping out.

"Isabella, wait."

I ignored him.

I'd barely taken two steps when the car door slammed shut behind me. Terrence caught up in two strides and grabbed my wrist. The grip was strong, like an iron clamp, but he didn't hurt me.

He pulled hard, yanking me toward him.

The next second, he gripped my waist and lifted me up, setting me on the hood of the Mercedes G-Wagon.

The hood was still hot, burning through my jeans against my thighs. Terrence's body pressed between my open legs. Sitting there in front of him, my eyes were level with his.

"Let me go..." I pushed against his chest. He wouldn't budge. His hands pressed on the hood on either side of me, trapping me between him and the car.

"I'm sorry." He looked down at me, voice rough. "Reveille's an idiot. When he drinks too much, he can't control his mouth. Don't take what he said seriously."

He stared into my eyes.

"But I really did have a great time tonight. Bringing you to meet them—I was happy."

I looked at him. Hurt, anger, and that longing I didn't dare admit to myself—all mixed together. I gripped the edge of the hood, my voice shaking.

"Then tell me... what's her name? The person you like?"

Terrence's breathing grew heavier.

His gaze slid slowly from my eyes down to my parted lips.

His jawline was taut, his Adam's apple bobbing.

He seemed like he really wanted to say it, but in the end he closed his eyes and forced the words back down.

"I don't want to talk about this right now." He turned his head away, his voice cold again.

My tears finally fell.

"Fine. I get it."

I braced myself on the hood, trying to jump down.

Terrence didn't move aside.

His hands suddenly lifted from the hood and came to rest on my waist. Through the thin beige sweater, his rough calluses and burning heat pressed against my skin like a brand.

My whole body shuddered.

But I didn't pull away.

Terrence pressed closer. And suddenly I felt it—all of it—the sleeping weight behind his jeans waking up, thickening, pushing against where my legs met with a heat that made me stupid. The throb of it, right there, against the softest part of my thigh.

God. He was hard.

Right here in this dim parking lot, right under his own brother's apartment building.

Terrence's breathing completely fell apart. His heavy breaths washed over my face, carrying a faint tobacco scent and crisp pine.

His fingers tightened suddenly on my waist, his thumbs rubbing along my waistline with agonizing slowness, loaded with meaning.

He lifted his head, those deep blue eyes burning with terrible desire.

"You really want to know her name?"