CHAPTER ONE
“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” Isabella said, or rather screeched, stumbling a few steps away from Harry and shaking her head in open disbelief.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry scoffed. He looked annoyed. Like he was close to being done with her. That alone made her all the angrier. How dare he look like that when she was the one who had been wronged?
“I saw you,” she insisted, swinging her arms wide. The weight of her purse made it swing out on the thin bejeweled strap, almost setting her off-balance, even though the only things in it were her ID and her cell phone. “You were making eyes at her. And you said something to her when she gave you the drink!”
“Yeah, I said thanks,” Harry scowled, rushing towards her with an outstretched arm to guide her away from the road. “Like, thank you for the drinks? I was just being polite.”
“You’re never polite to bartenders,” Isabella threw back, nearly tottering over on her heels as she lunged away in the opposite direction from his arm. She almost collided with the wall of the next building, saving herself just in time only by crossing her legs at an awkward angle.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Harry fumed, that word again. “Come on. Just – look, you’re too drunk for this. I’m too drunk for this. Let’s just go home.”
“No way!” Isabella exclaimed. She had planned to go home with him tonight, but there was no chance now. Not now that she knew he’d been flirting with someone else. Maybe it was over between them. She’d figure that out once she had a chance to sit down. And pee. She needed to pee.
But she needed to get away from him even more.
“Well, what are you going to do, then? Walk around the streets all night?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Isabella said, far too pleased with herself for coming up with the retort and dimly aware in the back of her mind that her voice had sounded far more slurred than his. “I’m going home. Just not with you.”
“Fine,” Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head and shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a cold night, still winter and without a cloud above to trap some heat, but Isabella didn’t feel cold yet. She still had the alcohol in her system, and the fire of rage to keep her warm. “I’ll walk you back, then.”
“No!” Isabella shouted, pushing him away with a desperate flail when he tried to come closer. “I don’t need your help. I’m going home on my own. You do whatever you want, just not anywhere near me.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You know that. You can’t walk alone here at night. You do need me. Or at least let me get you a taxi.”
“So I can owe you the fare?” Isabella shook her head angrily. When he tried to come towards her again she swung her purse in a vicious arc, and he stumbled back, almost tripping on an empty glass bottle that rattled noisily along the sidewalk.
He was distracted; she took that chance to start walking away a bit faster.
It wasn’t so easy with her heels, especially at speed. She just kept putting one leg in front of the other, and every time she thought she was going to fall forwards, she put the next leg in front and somehow managed not to fall. She thought she’d heard Harry behind her at one moment and then the sound of him being sick, and she turned down an alleyway on her right as soon as she did, thinking he would look up and not know where she’d gone.
She almost chuckled out loud at the idea of his face. Magic Isabella, disappearing right in front of his eyes!
But she didn’t, because she was being quiet, because she had to get away without him knowing she was gone.
Isabella clopped through the alley in her heels, looking up ahead. It was a long alley, actually. She paused for a moment, her skin beginning to crawl. Even through the alcohol, she had this strange feeling that she wasn’t alone.
She turned and looked over her shoulder, wondering if Harry was following her.
There was no one there.
As she kept watching, Harry stumbled past the entrance of the alleyway without looking in, and then he was gone out of view. She stifled another chuckle, this one of victory. She’d done it. That idiot was probably giving up and going home, himself.
She swallowed, feeling the chill in the air a little more.
He was right about it not being entirely safe to walk home on her own.
But what was she going to do? Go back out to the brightly-lit street and call out for him to come and save her?
No, he’d flirted with someone else right in front of her. There was no way she could trust him now. She took a breath. She would carry on.
Isabella turned around quickly, and the rest of the alleyway was still empty, too.
She took one more deep breath and started to walk again, trying harder this time to keep her feet steady so she didn’t trip on any of the debris scattered around. It was mostly broken or empty bottles and other kinds of trash, probably left here by other people who used the alley as a shortcut from the bar.
She scanned the ground carefully but then ended up having to stop and lean on a stack of crates, thinking she was going to fall over because she was leaning further and further forward. The crates themselves wobbled dangerously under her weight, and she careened away from them, landing with her back against the opposite wall and still just about upright. Isabella slumped, letting the wall take her weight for a moment. Ugh. It was such a long walk home. Maybe she should have grabbed a taxi after all; but now she was halfway down the alley, and it seemed to make as much sense to keep going forward as to go back…