Chase glanced at the peacefully sleeping woman beside him. His arm was wrapped around the younger as the younger's head rested on his chest. Chase traced his fingers to the soft skin of her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek and rubbing her shoulder intimately.
He slowly and carefully slid his arm out of Isabella and sat up. He stared at his lover lovingly for a few more minutes before he decided to finally do what he had planned.
Chase stood up and started picking up the clothes on the ground, internally smiling at the memory of last night's events. He put them on the dirty clothes' basket, though leaving Isabella's dress in his hand. He slid into its pocket and his hand immediately found what he was searching for.
Isabella's phone.
Chase stared at it for a few seconds before finally turning the device into life. It made Chase smile for a while when he saw the wallpaper was no other than him. But it then soon faded when his eyes caught a name as he scrolled Isabella's previous call logs.
Tristan.
Chase frowned, biting his lip he grabbed his own phone and began copying the phone number on the screen.
The meeting with Isabella's friend didn't come much to Chase's annoyance with Isabella telling him Tristan suddenly had another plan for the day so he couldn't come. Chase just stared at Isabella that time, but then he noticed Isabella's rising discomfort so he decided he would just shrug it off and won't let it ruin their day.
That was until Isabella's phone rang when they were making out in Chase's living room, a few minutes after they got home from the amusement park. They were both startled, but Isabella told him to just ignore it, turning the device off. Chase felt important by the act but inside, he was still bothered by the call.
Therefore, Chase made up his mind to find the truth himself. Pushing the thought of Isabella getting mad for invading her little privacy on the back of his mind, he pressed the call button on his phone screen.
"Hello, who's this?" a voice greeted him from the other line and Chase frowned. The voice was familiar to his ears. He was sure he had heard this voice before.
"Hello?" the voice uttered again, filled with confusion and curiosity at the stranger's call. That was the time it clicked. Chase realized it was the same voice that called Isabella in the cafe before. Together with his mother.
His mind started to form dozens of questions and he badly needed answers. He wanted them. Now.
"This is Chase, Isabella's boyfriend. Can we meet up?" Chase asked while fisting his other hand, trying to calm himself down, trying to push all the unnerving thoughts away from his mind.
There was silence on the other line, and it grew more Chase began to think for a second the call had ended, but then the voice spoke again, giving Chase chills and heat in mixed curiosity and anger.
"Okay," the voice uttered and hung up. There was a new message flashed on his screen then, indicating the place and time where they would be meeting.
"I'll get straight to the point. I don't like you," Chase ended up saying to the man across the table, finally letting his real feelings out.
Tristan, Isabella's friend, scoffed and stared at Chase for a second with eyes Chase couldn't read at all. That made Chase's annoyance rise more.
"Okay," Tristan said as he was nodding, eyes not meeting Chase's. Chase found it odd that this Tristan guy couldn't even meet him in the eye. He felt something wasn't right by the way this guy was acting around him. Did he hate Isabella having a boyfriend? Did he hate Chase?
"But I'd like to discuss a few things about Isabella," Chase decided to continue. He wanted answers, after all, that was the purpose of this meet up.
He felt Tristan's eyes on him for a second but was immediately gone by the time Chase looked at him.
"What is it? You know it wasn't right for you to doubt your lover and do this behind her back."
"I don't. I just wanted to know what she was doing with another man on the days she said she was in her hometown," Chase uttered with a low and rough voice. It was completely taking a lot of effort not to make him snap and beat the crap out of this guy who dared take Isabella away from him for days. Those were the loneliest days of Chase, damn it. But Chase was a man of patience. He knew if he snapped at this point, he might not get the answers he needed. So, with much control, Chase waited.
Tristan looked like he was completely taken aback by Chase's words, and it made Chase's eyes narrowed. He eyed Tristan's reactions but then huffed in defeat and annoyance when he couldn't read them again. Fuck it, he cussed inside his mind. Why is this man hard to read?
"You shouldn't ask me about that," Tristan said, looking at his side. Chase scoffed at the sight. This guy must really hate his guts; he couldn't even meet Chase's gaze. And what did he say? Chase shouldn't ask him about that? Was he kidding Chase?
"Why not? You were that man. You were the one Isabella was with at that time. Right?" Chase asked with an annoyed, challenging voice, completely unaware of how his tone was giving too much discomfort to the man across the table.
Tristan looked up at him with this, eyes a little wide, shocked at what he just heard. Chase smirked at the sight, finally getting a reaction readable to Chase's eyes.
Tristan then let his gaze fall down to his lap again, feeling too uncomfortable in his position. His phone rang then and upon seeing the caller ID, he stood up and gave Chase a look.
"I'm sorry, I need to go," Chase heard him say, giving him an even stranger look. Chase wasn't sure if it was him or there was a tint of sadness in Tristan's eyes. Chase felt a stab on his chest at the sight. Now he felt sorry for his rival, great. Was Tristan his rival?
Chase nodded at this, being respectful just enough for the man in front of him despite the boiling blood inside him. Before the man finally walked away, he gave Chase a look. Again, that look that made a twinge in Chase's heart.
"Bye, Chase," Tristan then gave him a smile which Chase didn't have the time to read for his head was too caught up with the sudden twinge in his heart.
George's grip on the paper tightened, crumpling, and throwing it across the room. He hated newspapers. He hated how the media worked, how reporters gave false statements in public without enough evidence, how they could give lies after lies without knowing the whole truth.
"George," George's mind was too occupied; he didn't notice the door had opened and Isabella came in. Again, with that look visible on her face that George hated second the most in this world.
Isabella eyed him for a second then let her eyes wander around the room. They then caught the piece of crumpled newspaper on the corner of the dark room, making George lower his head down.
"George…" Isabella barely even made a sound as she called the man out. And George could only tilt his head up and give her a smile, so she'd stop giving him looks.
"George, I'm sorry," Isabella whispered as she walked towards the man who was just on his desk who had been staring at nothingness for who knew how long.
He didn't answer Isabella. What should he answer Isabella, anyway? Isabella…Isabella was different from him.
But he didn’t like Isabella getting hurt. Being the older and the eldest one, George wanted to make sure everyone of them won't get hurt in the battle that Isabella somehow had started. He knew too well Isabella would be the one getting the biggest impact if something went wrong, and it scared the shit out of George to even witness that.
He couldn't bear to witness it for the second time, no, not this time, not again. So, he wrapped his arms around Isabella and whispered in her ears the words he knew were just right for Isabella to do.
"Leave him."