Page 13 of Irresistible Silver Fox

She looks up at me and then bursts into tears. Shit. This isn't my area of expertise. Calming down a crying woman is not something I’m good at. Does she think I care about the paint on the floor? Maybe she thought I'd get angry.

"Hey Iz, it doesn't matter about the paint; we can clear it up," I reassure her. This makes her cry more. God. What should I do? I thought that would help. My hand on her shoulder progresses to gentle patting; I cringe at my own poor attempt at soothing.

Izzie's tears calm down for a moment, and she looks across at my hand. She wipes her tears on her shirt and slows her breathing before gently laughing again. At least it is less maniacal than the last random laughter, but still, I’m getting whiplash from the sudden change in emotions.

"Is this you trying to help?" she asks, nodding towards my hand, now just awkwardly hovering above her shoulder.

"Uh yeah…" I shrug and grimace, embarrassed at my own emotional immaturity. In fairness, though, I’m really not sure what’s happening here. Like, at all. She then smiles softly at me, that smile melting any remaining ice around my heart. At that moment, I decide I will be happy to make a fool of myself every single goddamn day for the rest of my life if it means that she looks at me like that.

She takes in a shaky breath. "Sorry, Zak, it's just one of those days and this," she gestures widely to the spilled paint around her.

I chuckle. "It's okay," I reply quietly. "Look," I start, checking my watch, "it's getting pretty late, and your dad invited me over for dinner. Would that be alright? I could drive us both there now, and we can deal with all this tomorrow," - "all this" being the spilled paint, not Izzie's emotional outpouring. She looks contemplative for a moment, then nods.

It’s strange to see her so passive; she usually has a retort or comment to make. This is a new side of Izzie I’m seeing, and I don't like it. I feel awkward around her, unsure of how to act, and worried that one wrong word might make her blow up.

"Come on," I help her up, and she stands, wobbly like a deer on ice.

I dust off my hands and offer her a small smile; whatever was bothering her clearly hasn't been resolved; I can see she is still holding something back. She is biting her lips nervously. I'm not proud to admit that that small movement drives me crazy and means that I couldn't stop looking at her damn beautiful lips.

In the car, I look over, and she’s still doing it.

“Stop biting your lip,” I order, unable to control myself.

"What?"

"It's…distracting," I try.

"Well, don't look then." There she is. I smile; my Izzie is back.

"And stop smiling." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the window. This Izzie, I can deal with; she’s manageable.

When we pull up to Dave's house, there is another car outside.

"Anyone else coming for dinner?" I ask Izzie, more just talking aloud, really.

"Not that I know of." She shrugs and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut, making me wince.

She strolls up the path ahead of me; then, I notice her halt in her tracks as soon as she'd turned her key.

"Fuck," I hear her whisper. Then she quickly turns back to the car, appearing to check something.

Her face drops as a realization dawns on her.

“What’s up?”

She grimaces, “I think I know who our unexpected guest is.”

“Iz! Zak!” Dave greets us then, an inviting smile on his face, sauntering down the hallway towards the front door. "Whatcha doing loitering here? Come on in." He ushers us into the house. Izzie takes a few tentative steps but seems more on edge than I'd ever seen her and wears an uneasy expression. Out of instinct, I place a hand on the small of her back to calm her down and let her know that I’m there - my small attempt at offering her some comfort. To my surprise, instead of shaking me off and glaring at me, she leans into my hand ever so slightly, and I feel her body relax.

"Oh, Iz!" Mel announces cheerily, pulling Izzie in for a hug and away from my hand. I drop my hand to my side. Mel releases Izzie from her iron grip and holds her at arm's length. Izzie smiles faintly, though I can sense that her demeanor is still just as tense. I can't work out if that is about this mystery guest or simply her dislike for Mel. She hasn't told me explicitly that she doesn't like Mel, but I'd spent enough time around Izzie now to recognize when she was being fake, and every time she smiles at Mel, it’s a fake smile.

"Your college friend, oh, he's just a darling sweetheart! Why didn't you tell us about him? Handsome, too," Mel adds with a wink. College friend? Curiosity and perhaps a tinge of jealousy bubble within me at the mention of a handsome “him” in Izzie’s life. I know I have no right. I watch as Izzie's enigmatic expression shifts to one of apprehension. Okay, a significant amount of jealousy. Whoever this is, Izzie has a lot of feelings towards them. Just then, a tall figure appears from the hallway.

His eyes immediately fixate on Izzie, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Mel and I might as well not even be in the room; he doesn't so much as glance in our direction. I instantly dislike the guy. "Isobel," he breathes out dramatically, and my hackles rise. Izzie seems caught in a trance, unable to speak, and my protective instinct leaps to action. I step in between them, introducing myself with a stern handshake.

"I'm Zak," I speak slowly, not offering him a smile. He slowly turns his attention to me. He blinks twice as if genuinely only just realizing I am in the room.

He introduces himself to us as "Marcos." Stupid name. Marcos is a tall, broad-shouldered young man with light brown hair and almond-shaped chocolate-brown eyes. His jaw is strong and square, and his lips are full and expressive. His skin is lightly tanned and slightly rough, with faint freckles scattered across his face. His style is casual but fashionable, with thoughtfully chosen clothes that reflect his personality. His messy tousled hair and casual clothes only add the pretentious "I'm too cool to care" vibe.

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