Chapter 90 If That Isn't Nonsense?

Chapter 90 If That Isn't Nonsense?

Terrence's POV

When I got back to the booth, Anna was leaning close to Isabella's ear, whispering something. Isabella's face was as red as a ripe tomato, her eyes darting nervously.

"What are you talking about?"

I walked over and sat down beside her.

Isabella jumped, her shoulders jerking.

"N-nothing! Anna was telling me about a golden retriever at her clinic."

Anna gave me a knowing look, took a sip of her beer, and didn't call her out on the lie.

I leaned back in my chair, quietly watching Isabella.

She was chatting enthusiastically with Reveille and Anna, her eyes bright and full of curiosity.

Reveille was a rough guy who normally cursed like a sailor, but today he was surprisingly restrained.

He was being thoughtful, deliberately avoiding those bloody battlefield stories. He didn't mention the ambush in the valley, didn't mention those blown-off limbs.

I was deeply grateful for that.

I didn't want her to see the dark depths of my world, didn't want her to know what kind of killing machine I used to be.

"So how does that lead dancer guy lift you up?"

Reveille asked curiously while chewing on garlic.

Isabella put down her utensils and gestured seriously.

"In the climax of the third movement, the ballet company does a fish dive lift. I need to stand on a prop step, and Dustin will catch my waist from below, lift me straight up into the air, then set me down steadily in the center of the main stage."

"Shit, that sounds dangerous."

Reveille frowned.

"What if the guy's hands slip? You're holding that crazy expensive violin, and falling would be no joke."

"I'm scared too," Isabella bit her lower lip, her voice dropping a bit. "The first time we tried it, I almost screamed. But on stage, I have to trust my partner one hundred percent. Dustin is very professional. He told me to give him my weight and just focus on playing."

Trust her partner. Give him her weight.

Hearing those words made my chest tighten inexplicably.

Dustin had that pretty-boy face, and this afternoon he'd kissed her cheek right in front of me. And now here she was saying she had to trust him, give her body to him.

I instinctively grabbed the tongs, picked up the most tender pieces of pork belly from the grill, and dropped them heavily onto her plate.

"Eat more," I said coldly. "You're thin as a matchstick. Even if you fall, Dustin can catch you."

Isabella froze, staring at the mountain of meat on her plate, then glared at me.

Anna snorted with laughter across the table.

To redirect this damn attention, and to cover up that ridiculous jealousy, I took a sip of ice water and said, "Don't let her serious violin-playing fool you. Her head is full of the weirdest stuff."

"Oh? Like what?" Anna was interested.

I turned to look at Isabella.

"Like yesterday in the kitchen, she suddenly asked me a question: if I had to fight, would I rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck."

Reveille froze, nearly dropping the meat from his mouth.

The next second, he and Anna burst out laughing.

Reveille laughed so hard he pounded the table, making the beer glasses shake.

"Jesus! Shadow, you actually answered that kind of question? When you were in Phantom Seal, the instructors never taught you how to deal with horse-sized ducks!"

"I told her I'd just pull out my gun and shoot them all."

"Terrence!" Isabella's face turned bright red. She pretended to be angry and kicked me under the table. "Why would you tell them about that stupid question! And your answer was so boring!"

"How was it boring? It's the most effective tactic," I argued back.

"You totally don't get the point of the hypothetical!" She glared at me indignantly, with a bit of sweat on the tip of her nose, looking impossibly cute.

The feeling wrapped around my heart like a vine, squeezing tight.

I knew she wasn't my girl. She still wore the label "Maurice's girlfriend." When this meal was over, I'd have to take her back to that apartment with my brother in it.

But in this moment, in this lively little corner full of everyday life, at this table with just us and my comrades, I was willing to selfishly enjoy this brief time.

I pretended she was mine.

Pretended she was my woman I'd brought to meet my friends, pretended I could freely touch her knee under the table, pretended I had every right to protect and care for her.

Reveille was drunk.

There were already four empty beer bottles in front of him. He burped, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looked at Isabella and me.

"Honestly..." Reveille suddenly spoke, his voice slurred. "I always thought Shadow here was an emotionless machine. He wouldn't even blink on the battlefield. A woman could strip naked in front of him and he'd walk away stone-faced."

"Seth, you're drunk," Anna frowned, trying to grab his glass.

"I'm not drunk!"

Reveille dodged Anna's hand, staring straight at Isabella.

"Isabella, do you know... he's crazy in love with you!"

The smile on Isabella's face completely froze.

She was still holding her utensils, eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Reveille, then whipped her head around to look at me.

"Reveille! Shut your mouth!"

Reveille was stunned by my yelling, seeming to finally realize he'd said something he shouldn't have. He looked at Anna in panic.

Anna stomped hard on his foot under the table, then immediately tried to smooth things over.

"Oh, Isabella, don't listen to him. It's just the beer talking. His mouth has no brakes when he's like this. Yesterday he said he loved me so much he wanted to throw my cat in a pot."

"Yeah, yeah!" Reveille quickly scratched his head awkwardly. "I'm drunk, not thinking straight. How could Shadow love anyone? He only loves his sniper rifle! Ha ha... ha..."

The laughter was hollow and awkward.

Isabella forced a smile, looking down and pretending to pick at the meat on her plate.

"It's okay... I know he's drunk."

Anna clumsily changed the subject to something else, starting to talk about a new coffee shop in the West District.

On the surface, everything seemed to return to normal.

But only I knew that something had completely spiraled out of control.

My gaze stayed fixed on Isabella, unable to look away.

She ate slowly, her fingers gripping the fork tightly.

Was she scared? Or disgusted? Disgusted that her boyfriend's own brother had those kind of dirty feelings for her?