Page 65 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

9. Isabella

October 27, 2018

It’s been sort of aweird day so far, and I’m starting to feel edgy. I woke up hungover this morning, and once I could feel my legs again, I stumbled into the kitchen in search of a strong cup of coffee. What I saw, however, sobered me up instantly because I found my sister pressed up against the fridge and that dipshit, Scott, was all up on her looking like he was about to stick his tongue down her throat.

I know that he comes over every day to help Cat with whatever she needs, and for some strange reason, my mother adores him, so she keeps inviting him for dinner. The result is that they spend alotof time together, so I can understand why Scott would have a thing for my sister because she’s amazing. But she looked like she was into that almost-kiss too and I don’t understand what the hell she would ever see in that douche. He keeps trying to convince us that he’s making an effort to change, but I don’t believe that, and I thought my sister didn’t either. This morning, she proved me wrong.

Scott awkwardly explained to me that they werejust talking(yeah, right) and he was just there to mow the lawn per my mother’s request. After exchanging some words and a few threats, I told him to get to the lawn mowing because I hate him being near my sister. Cat is vulnerable, and I don’t want him to take advantage of that.

The real shock came afterward, though, when Cat pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. She told me that Dylan gave her his number, and he wanted me to call him, but only if I was sober. I stood there for a few moments with my mouth hanging open because I was truly shocked. The nerve of this guy. The unabashed audacity.

Even though my head was spinning, I have no trouble remembering every detail of last night. I remember David, the dickhead, trying to slide his hand up my dress after I repeatedly told him to stop. Dylan was right. I never should’ve gone anywhere with David. I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk because I was too wasted to even shove him off me. He was also right in saying that it was a stupid thing to do out of spite. But at the same time...screw Dylan!

I’ve been staring at this stupid piece of paper all morning and I don’t know what to make of it.

I care about you. I like you. And, fuck, do I want you. I want you so bad there’s this burn searing beneath my palms because I want to touch you all the time and I mean, all the fucking time, but I have to consciously stop myself because...you’re a mess, Bella.

I keep replaying those words in my head, asking myself the same questions over and over again. He reiterated the point multiple times?he doesn’t want the drama, and after preaching this to me for the entire time we were in that room, I’m now sitting here with his goddamn number. What the hell does he want? I told myself that I was done with these mixed messages and yet I’ve been lying here on my bed for hours trying to decrypt this single piece of paper.

I reach over to grab my phone from the side table to the left of my bed. I dial his number and right before I press call, I chuck my phone across the bed. No! I’m not doing it. I’m done. After a while, I pick up my phone again and clear the number, then squash the paper and toss it across the room into the wastepaper basket on the other side like a pro-basketball player. I’m done.

Cat told me that my mom gave orders to make chicken for lunch so just before twelve, I head downstairs and busy myself making chicken pasta. Thirty minutes later, I peer over to the dining room where Cat is sculpting Captain America. It was something she used to do with my dad. She stopped after he passed away and Captain America remained unfinished. Not sure why, but she unexpectedly decided to start it up again yesterday, and I am so glad she did. She’s taking another step toward her former self and it’s beautiful to witness. Inspiring, actually, especially because she’s doing it despite her arm being in a cast.

She’s utterly engrossed, and I don’t want to disturb her, but I’m starving. “Lunch is ready,” I call out from the kitchen. “Tell your asshole boyfriend to come in and eat.”

She looks up from the sculpture and scowls. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure fooled me. I mean, with the way he was all up on you this morning.”

She flushes, her cheeks turning bright red. I don’t care if Scott is developing feelings for my sister, but her reaction is a sign that she might be letting her guard down around him.

“He was just...teasing.” She quickly changes the subject. “Did you call Dylan?”

I walk to the spot where the kitchen merges with the dining room and lean against the wall. “No, and I don’t plan to.”

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