I slipped inside without a word, keeping my gaze fixed out the window. Lucia turned and grinned at me, her lips sticky with melted ice cream. "Bryce picked me up earlier and I happened to sit here. I'm too lazy to move. You don't mind, right?"
“It’s fine. Just a seat,” I muttered, my eyes drifting to the melting ice cream in her hand. Bryce never let me eat in his car—something about keeping it clean and free of smells. Yet here she was, effortlessly breaking his rules.
"You eat like a child. You’ve got ice cream all over your mouth," Bryce remarked, reaching over to wipe Lucia's mouth.
Lucia giggled. “Oops! It’s not my fault ice cream tastes so good.”
I stared at the road ahead, willing myself to feel nothing. But the tightness in my chest betrayed me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this.
Just as I thought we were heading home, Bryce turned the car toward a small café.
“Lucia wanted to treat you,” he explained. “She feels bad about everything that happened.”
Lucia jumped out of the car, pulling me along. “Come on, Isla! Let’s get something sweet. My treat!”
I resisted the urge to pull away and bear with her, thinking it would only take a few minutes.
"These were all Bryce's favorite," Lucia mentioned as she ordered.
But I was shocked when a plate of chocolates and sweet pastries came to our table. Bryce had always refused to eat sweets around me, reasoning his low tolerance for chocolate. Now, Lucia was telling me Bryce loved it? The thought lingered bitterly in my mind. Suddenly, I found myself asking, “You’re a fan of chocolate now, Bryce?”
Lucia beamed. “He always eats chocolate with me! Isn’t that right, Bryce?”
Bryce didn’t meet my gaze, focusing instead on wiping his hands with a napkin. It was clear: with Lucia, he had no limits. With me, there were only restrictions. My appetite vanished completely, replaced by a bitter realization.
"You guys eat. I'm not hungry," I said abruptly, standing to leave. The pain in my injured leg flared, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out.
“Isla, wait—” Bryce followed me outside, frustration seeping into his voice. “You don’t have to make a scene over something so trivial.”
“Trivial?” I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. “You lie, you break your own rules, and then you expect me to just swallow it all? To be okay with being second place—always?”