06.

ISABELLA

I keep walking, the stinging heat on my cheek still painful. My chest heaves with every step. I pull out my phone again, my thumb hovering over Hardin.

"Come on, babe, pick up, pick up," I mumble, my voice rough from crying. I hit the call button for the eighth time.

Dialing. The line chirps.

The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message.

Straight to voicemail. Again.

"Seriously? What are you doing, babe?" I sniff, wiping the new round of tears away with the back of my hand, smearing my now-useless eyeliner. "You told me to call. You knew I was going to the university. You know what they're like."

The sun is absolutely scorching, beating me down on my dark clothes and making me sweat. I feel ridiculously overdressed.

"I can't walk all the way to Greenville," I whisper, clutching my little backpack. "No cash. No bus fare."

I shove the phone back into my bag, trying to focus on the cracked sidewalk and not the memory of my mum slapping me. It's not as if it's the first time she'll be raising her hand on me. It's just... I sniff. I have to get out of this neighbourhood. Even if it means living with Noah.

Just as I'm about to try to map out which major street has a bus stop I can potentially walk to, a car, a sleek, black sports car... the kind that even looking at, feels like a crime, slides to a stop beside me, the tyres squeaking slightly on the asphalt.

I jump, my heart vaulting into my throat. I instinctively clutch my backpack tighter, preparing for the worst, and my lips part.

Who's in the car? And why did they stop?

The driver's window hums down, revealing a face I know too well. A face that I'd rather not deal with at the moment. Of course, you know who it is.

It's Noah Hakwins.

My lashes lift as I stare at him, a frown forming on my face. He's leaning back casually, one arm resting on the door frame, looking every bit my nemesis.

"Get in, Drama Queen," he drawls, his voice low and utterly bored, like stopping for me is a minor inconvenience he's reluctantly fulfilling. Well, newsflash... I didn't ask for help. And I'm sure as hell not accepting his help.

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. "Don't even start with me, Noah."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a slow, annoying smirk forming. "Oh, I already started. Stop sulking and get in. You look like you're about to melt into the pavement, and I won't have that."

Wait... he thinks I'm sulking? "I'm not sulking," I insist, but I can feel the truth of my observation. The heat on my face isn't just the sun. It's the flush of residual anger and the sting from my mum's slap. My eyes feel puffy and watery.

"Yeah?" he says, his gaze dropping momentarily before flicking back up. "The pout? The flush is there, and your eyes are all watery. Looks like sulking to me."

I sigh softly. "Noah, stop. I'm not in the mood."

"In the mood for what, Minnie?" His smile widens slightly. He's definitely doing that on purpose.

"No... that's not..." I stammer, scrambling to rephrase. "I just mean I'm having a really awful day, and I don't need your commentary."

"Of course. I understand," he says, and for a second his fake ass empathy sounds genuine. Then the smirk returns.

"Where is Hardin? He hasn't replied to any of my texts, he hasn't even answered my call, and I..." I trail off.

Noah snorts. "Trouble in paradise, huh? Are you really asking me about your boyfriend right now?"

"Noah, please," I plead. I needed a ride and he was the only option.

"I don't know," he admits, his tone flat. "But don't you think you're forgetting something?"

I raise a questioning eyebrow. "What?"

"You seriously don't think you're forgetting to tell me anything," he repeats, leaning forward just enough to make his tattooed forearm visible on the steering wheel.

"Like what?" I demand, because I don't know what he's waiting to hear from me.

He tilts his head, his eyes holding mine. "Like I didn't tell your boyfriend that I won't take rent from you."

My jaw drops. "No rent? But... it was quarter rent. And you agreed to some ground rules, which by the way sounded too good to be true."

"That's what your boyfriend said?" he asks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," he says simply, waving a hand dismissively. "It will all make more sense eventually." He pauses his gaze sweeping over my entire distressed and sweaty form. "Now, get in. I'm not running a taxi service for sulking little girls but..." He smiles, his tongue sweeping over his teeth for a short while.

I stare at him. This is exactly what I mean about him being impossible. He offers me a ride, then immediately says something to provoke me.

"I am not getting in,"

He sighs, like I'm the most bothersome creature on earth, when it's clearly him. It has always been him. "Look, Minnie. You’re melting. You have nowhere to go but Greenville. And you just admitted your boyfriend, who was supposed to be running you around today, is AWOL. Either the easy way, where you gracefully accept the ride, or the hard way."

"The hard way?" I scoff. "And what, pray tell, is the hard way, Noah?"

He just laughs... "And the hard way is this."

Before I can even register his intention, he pushes his door open and is out of the car. He's tall, impossibly broad, and moves stealthily. I back up a step, my eyes wide.

"What are you doing? Don't even think about it!" I warn, clutching my tiny backpack strap so hard my knuckles turn white.

"You need to get to the university, and I need to stop wasting time watching you have an existential crisis in the middle of a major road," he says, reaching for me.

I try to pivot and run, but he's too fast. One large, strong hand clamps around my arm, the other easily scooping me up by the waist. I'm suddenly suspended in the air, tossed effortlessly over his shoulder like a sack of groceries.

"Put me down, you arrogant bastard!" I shriek, kicking wildly. My short skirt is definitely riding up, and I'm mortified and furious. "I hate you! You absolute moron! This is kidnapping! You cannot just manhandle me!"

"Keep shouting. See if anyone stops for a screaming girl being helped into a nice car by a guy who clearly knows her," Noah mutters against his shoulder, completely unruffled by my struggling. He tightens his grip, making my breath hitch.

"I hope you crash this stupid car! I hope you get a ticket! I hope you get arrested for assault!" I curse, beating against his muscular back with my free hand. It's like hitting a brick wall.

He reaches the passenger side of the sleek car, pulls the door open with a single jerk, and then unceremoniously dumps me into the leather seat. I land with a breathless oomph, scrambling backwards against the door.

He doesn't give me a chance to escape. He slams the door shut, and then he's back in his own seat, buckling up.

"See? Easy way," he says, pulling out into traffic as if nothing had happened.

I sit bolt upright, glaring daggers at his profile. "That was not the easy way! That was you being a jerk. I am going to tell Hardin..."

"Go ahead," he cuts in, eyes focused on the road. "Is Hardin going to lecture me on the importance of manners again? It's so cute how he thinks his rules apply to anything that matters. Right now, you’re in my car, and I’m taking you where you need to go. And just for the record, Drama Queen, your curses are weak. Try harder."

"I hope your favourite jersey shrinks in the wash and your beer turns flat!" I say, instantly regretting the childishness of the threats.

He just smirks.

"Better. That's all you got?"