“Speaking of romance,” I say out loud. “Whatever happened with Will? I thought you guys were doing well, but then the next I knew, you were already broken up.”
Iz dated Will Stanbrook for a year, the only nice ex out of our four exes; he's super sweet. I personally thought they would get married, but I guess it didn’t work out. Because Weston took up all my brain space, I wasn’t around for the full aftermath of her breakup with Will during our third year.
After placing her glass on the table, Iz grabs one of her dark red throw pillows, hugging it to her chest. “I’m not really sure. On paper, we match well. He's patient and doesn't mind my clutter. He's thoughtful and considerate—he was always bringing me treats or coffee while I was studying.”
I nod. Weston certainly never did that for me.
“But I guess…" Iz stares into the distance. "I always thought I'd have a love where you can't really keep your hands off the other person, you know? A passionate love. A love where there's lustandemotional connection. That's probablyasking for too much."
"You deserve that and more.” I'm wondering how much passion I even had with Weston. Then I revisit the heated chemistry in the few moments I had with Jake. It unnerves me to consider that I may be more attracted to a guy that I met a couple of days ago than the man I dated for over a year. Shaking off my discomfort, I return to our conversation. "I remember that sex was difficult between you and Will."
As I say that, I think about sex with Weston. It wasn’t bad, and even quite nice sometimes, especially at the beginning. But there was something performative about the act, like I was so focused on making sure he was having a good time that I forgot about my own pleasure.
"I was never in the mood," Iz admits. "But I have a very healthy sex drive! It doesn’t compute. He’s a great guy, and I’m fond of him."
I make a face. "It sounds like you're describing your brother.”
"Right?! There just wasn’t a spark. I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter, that what I really needed was stability, and that the love would grow in time. But yeah, not so much.”
I guess that was me and Weston. And that didn’t turn out so well.
I’m glad Isabelle figured it out without having to be locked in a bathroom.
“Have you ever had a spark?” I ask, trying to pivot the conversation, but my mind drifts, uninvited, to Jake.
I remember the clenching sensation deep in my gut the moment he walked into the doctor’s hub. That’s never happened before. Certainly not with Weston.
Wait—whatdidhappen with Weston? He said we met during orientation, but I still don’t remember that.
Then again, I have a terrible memory. Maybe I just forgot.
Iz pauses, thinking. “There was someone in college…but I don’t think I was ready,” she says finally, her tone oddly muted.
Then she seems to shake it off. “And I definitely enjoy the chase and the whirlwind of the first few dates, but after that? Either I’m dating a jerk, or I’m dating a nice guy that I’m not attracted to.”
She shrugs, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Obviously I have bad taste in men.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “You just haven’t met the right person.”
"Maybe," Iz says, eyes clearing as they focus back on me. “But back to the much more interesting topic of you and your new hottie! I want to hear more about Jake. Tell me about your 'meet cute.' How did you guys even start talking?"
I tell Isabelle how Jake drew labs on a shared patient and stopped by the doctor's station to let me know. As I talk, the impressions of meeting him flood back. The crackle of electricity. The way I had to tilt my head to meet his gray eyes—I’m guessing he’s around five foot ten to my five foot four. His broad shoulders and narrow waist. High cheekbones that most models would die for. Whatever I’d seen of him from afar didn’t compare to seeing him up close.
Iz grins. "Jake could have just charted the labs and IV start without involving you. He didn't need to tell you in person."
Heat spreads across my face. Why do I keep blushing?!
"That's true. But maybe he just wanted to close the loop on communication—you know, make sure I was aware of what he did.” I hesitate. “And anyway, it’s not like this is going to happen. I don’t think he’s over his ex.”
“What do you mean?”
I tell her briefly about my conversation with Denise and the way Jake looked at Sam when she passed by.
“Okaaaaay. I can maybe see what you’re saying. But Jakealsowanted your phone number, which is really telling,” Iz says as she pours the rest of the wine into my glass.
“What do you mean?” Why am I on the edge of my seat waiting for her answer?
“Guys only ask for your number if they’re interested.” Iz looks infinitely smug as she makes her pronouncement.
