Page 126 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

Isla stands just inside the door with Elaine and Roxanne, her hair tumbling in those soft waves that always make my fingers itch to touch them. Her eyes find mine immediately across the crowded gym. She gives a little wave, hesitant as if she’s not sure she should interrupt. Every part of me wants to cross the room and pull her into my arms.

Dad follows my gaze, and a knowing smile crosses his face. “Go on,” he says, patting my shoulder. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Time seems to slow, the distance stretching impossibly long as I cross the gym toward Isla. But she’s moving too, weaving through the crowd, drawn toward me the same way I am to her. My heart pounds with each step, like I’m walking through water instead of air. She looks exhausted and beautiful and somehow different than when she left yesterday. There’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen before.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something’s shifted.

“Hey.” Isla’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze flickers over the crowd before landing on me. “Looks like the event is going great.”

“Thank you.” I hold her eyes, letting the warmth in my chest spill into my voice. “Better now that you’re here.”

She exhales, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Before I can react, she steps forward and wraps her arms around me.

I freeze for a beat. Isla isn’t someone who does things like this, not casually, not in front of an audience, especially not after she ran away from the kiss.

I hesitate for half a second before my arms fold around her. She’s warm, soft, and fits against me like she belongs there.

Over her shoulder, Elaine’s eyebrows lift in that exaggerated way she has when she thinks she’s being subtle. A few feet away, Isla’s mom whispers something to Victor, looking in our direction. I’m sure half the gym is watching, but I don’t care.

“Everything okay with your dad?” My hand finds her waist, steadying her as if she might slip away.

“Yeah.” She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet my eyes. Light glints off the gold in her gaze, like the sun breaking through leaves. I could get lost in them, spend a lifetime memorizing every shifting shade, every unspoken thought hidden in their depths.

“Can we talk when you’re done?” she asks.

But before I answer her, the gym door swings open again, and Kyle walks in with the Pilates instructor.

Perfect timing. As always.

My grip tightens instinctively around Isla’s waist as Kyle strolls through the door. Beside him, the Pilates instructor—Claire, I think her name is—surveys the gym with the practiced disinterest of someone who believes they’re above it all.

Isla goes rigid under my hand. Her spine straightens, shoulders tensing as if bracing for impact. She breaks away from our embrace, and I feel the sudden chill of her absence against my chest.

“Long time no see,” Kyle says, his voice carrying across the gym with unnecessary volume, like he’s making sure everyone hears him.

The bustling energy of the room shifts. Conversations quiet as heads turn toward the entrance. Even Dad, who is in mid-conversation with Connie and Fred, pauses to assess the newcomer.

Kyle’s expensive cologne reaches us before he does, that overpowering scent that always reminded me of trying too hard. His tailored blazer and pressed slacks look ridiculously out of place among the workout clothes and casual attire of our guests.

“Kyle. What are you doing here?” I step forward.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Community event, right? Last I checked, I’m part of the community.”

I resist the urge to tell him to leave. It might seem too territorial, but honestly, nothing feels too rude when it comes to Kyle.

Betty appears at my elbow, her keen eyes missing nothing. “Oh my,” she stage-whispers, loud enough for half the gym to hear. “Isn’t that the cheater?”

Kyle’s face tightens, his practiced smile faltering for just a second. Claire shifts uncomfortably beside him.

“We just came to check out the new program,” Kyle says smoothly, recovering. “Heard there was quite the buzz.”

“Is that what they’re calling it when your house is covered in sticky notes these days?” Connie pipes up from across the room, earning a few poorly concealed snickers.

Kyle’s jaw clenches. His gaze darts between me and Isla, lingering on my hand at her waist.

“So the rumors are true,” he says, nodding toward us with a smirk. “Funny how quickly you moved on, Isla. And with your childhood friend, no less. How . . . convenient.”

I feel my hands curl into fists at my sides. Isla hasn’t said a word, seemingly calm as she faces Kyle, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. The subtle stiffening of her shoulders tells me everything.

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