That night, while I sat alone in my room, I heard my mother's voice floating through the house. She was chatting with someone in the living room. I thought nothing of it-until I heard my name.
"Isabella... Isabella."
Curious, I descended the stairs. To my astonishment, it was Davis.
"Someone is here to see you," my mother said with a knowing smile before retreating upstairs, leaving us alone.
My heart thudded against my ribs. I had never truly spoken to a boy before-not like this-and the realization unsettled me. Yet, even with nerves coursing through me, I still felt the familiar sting of disgust in his presence.
"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.
"To see you, of course," he replied with disarming ease.
I pulled him outside before my mother could return. The silence was heavy, broken only when he finally spoke.
"Would you like to take a walk with me?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes, every word dripping with disdain. "No."
"Please," he urged, softer this time, almost pleading.
Against my better judgment, I sighed, slipped into my footwear, and followed him.
We walked in silence along the quiet street. At last, he broke it.
"What's changed?" he asked suddenly.
I turned toward him, startled. "Changed? What do you mean?"
"Everything," he said simply.
I had no answer. I pressed my lips together and stared at the pavement. Minutes passed.
"Are you still angry at me?" he asked again.
"No," I lied. But my voice betrayed me.
We stopped at a wooden bench beneath a lamp post. He motioned for me to sit, and together we looked at the stars scattered across the night sky.
"Look," he began, his tone unusually sincere. "I know what I did was humiliating... unforgettable, even. I don't expect you to forgive me easily. Back then, I was a different person. I surrounded myself with shallow people who made cruelty seem normal. I regret it. I regret all of it. All I'm asking... is for a chance to make it up to you."
For the first time, I saw vulnerability in his eyes. His arrogance had melted into something softer, something almost human. And strangely, he looked even more handsome apologizing than he ever had while smirking.
"It's fine," I said at last. "I forgave you a long time ago."
His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then... would you like to see a movie with me tomorrow night?"
"No. I'll be busy."
"What about tomorrow afternoon? Maybe lunch?"
"I can't. I'm occupied."
The disappointment etched across his face was unmistakable. But I turned away, unaffected-or at least, pretending to be.
We walked back in silence. When I entered the house, my mother was waiting with a mischievous grin.
"How was it? Did you kiss?" she teased playfully.
"Mum!" I groaned, hurrying past her. "I'll be in my room."
Collapsing on my bed, I replayed the conversation in my head. A secret part of me was proud. It was rumored that no girl had ever rejected Davis King-not because of his wealth, but because of his looks. He was infamously hot, dangerously handsome, with abs that girls swooned over. I had caught a glimpse of them yesterday at the beach, along with the parade of girls who threw themselves at him. I had watched in utter disgust, though deep down, I knew the sight had stirred something in me I didn't want to admit.
The next day, I refused to step outside. Through a crack in the curtain, I saw him lingering near our house, watching to see if I was home. Irritated, I shut the windows and drew the blinds.
That afternoon, I lay on my bed, drifting in thoughts of my sister. I wondered-what would life have been like if Isabella were still alive? The ache of missing her never faded, no matter how hard I tried to move forward. Coming to King's Beach was supposed to be my attempt at healing, at celebrating my seventeenth birthday differently. But grief still wrapped its fingers tightly around my heart.
My mother soon called my name, asking me to lock the front door. She was going out with friends. I did as told, and as I turned to climb the stairs again, there was a knock at the door.
I assumed she had forgotten something. But when I opened it-there was Davis.
Shock froze me. I slammed the door shut instinctively. My heart raced. After several breaths, I slowly opened it again. He stood there, holding a bag, his expression calm.
"Hi," he said.
I stared in silence.
"Since you were too busy to have dinner with me," he continued with a faint smile, "I figured I'd bring dinner to you."
Before I could protest, he stepped inside. In the sitting room, he laid out a cloth on the floor, unpacked Chinese food, poured two glasses of wine, and then turned on the television. With a flick of his phone, a movie began-Fifty Shades.
He removed his hoodie, and my eyes betrayed me. His shirt clung just enough to reveal the sculpted lines beneath, his hair catching the light. My cheeks burned. Quickly, I looked away, unwilling to be charmed.
"Would you please join me?" he asked gently.
I hesitated, then sat down-at the opposite end of the mat. My lips pressed into a scowl, but inside, I was smiling. Against my will, I found the gesture... sweet.
We ate quietly, the silence broken only by the sounds of the movie. At one point, he reached for my hand, but I pulled back. First, he had tried to charm me. Then, he had chosen a romantic movie. Now he was reaching for my hand. I couldn't understand what he truly wanted. Was this his way of seducing me? Did he think I was like the other girls, ready to lose control under dim lights and whispered promises?
But nothing happened. The film ended, the food was gone, and still there was no drama.
"Thank you," I said softly. "I really appreciate it."
"I'm glad," he replied with a smile.
As he stood to leave, something inside me stirred. Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Both our hearts betrayed us-I could feel his racing as clearly as my own. I expected him to smirk, to act like the seasoned charmer he was rumored to be. Instead, he blushed, almost shy. For a moment, he was just a boy, not the untouchable Davis King.
"Goodnight," I whispered.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said, his voice bright with excitement. "I have a surprise for you."
I smiled faintly and closed the door behind him. Peeking out the window, I saw him walking away-and then, suddenly, jumping into the air like a child.
He was happy.
Minutes later, my mother returned, glowing with joy I hadn't seen since her divorce. She hurried to her room, humming as she collapsed onto her bed, clearly satisfied with the evening she had spent with her friends. I went to mine, my thoughts tangled with curiosity.
What surprise could Davis possibly have planned for me?
Sleep claimed me before I found an answer.