“Isabelle?” I say her name in a question when I’m closeenough.
A range of expressions flits across her face. She’s struggling with this just as much as I am. Neitherof us expected to see each other after all this time, it appears. It’s almost comical to see her in such a state of surprise, or maybe it would be if I weren’t so fucking mad at myself for letting go of ourfriendship.
“Knox?” She whispers out my name breathlessly. “I can’t believe it. Thisis...”
“Fucking unreal, Belle,” I say, finishing hersentence.
It may be a good thingthat we’re not friendsanymore.
Friends don’tfuck.
And tonight, that’s what I want to do toher.