I could tell something was wrong with her as soon as I saw her this morning. She was being fake and had plastered on a tight smile, but in her eyes, I could see something was bothering her.

My first instinct was to demand she tell me who the fuck hurt her, because I was ready to beat that fucker down, but I kept my cool, wanting her to come to me and tell me what was wrong.

I sat in my seat in the back of the class, staring at her, unable to focus on what the teacher said. Isabel sat a few seats in front of me and to the right. She kept tapping her pencil on the desk and bouncing her leg, her nerves clear. I’d never really seen her like this, and it had every muscle in my body taut with the need to make things right for her, to make her feel better.

She looked back at me then, maybe feeling my stare burning a hole in the back of her head. She smiled, but it was tight and didn’t reach her eyes. I curled my hands into tight fists, wanting to just fuck the class and drag her out of the room, but thankfully the bell for the end of the day rang. I shot out of my seat, grabbed my backpack, and stormed over to her.

“Hey,” she said softly as she put her books in her bag. I saw the column of her throat work as she swallowed, could see how tight her jaw was.

“Come on,” I said and all but dragged her out of the classroom, down the hall, and finally outside.

We made our way to her car, and only then did I cross my arms and glare down. I waited for her to tell me what the fuck was going on, and when she didn’t, I exhaled.

“What’s gong on?” I asked, making my voice softer. I didn’t want to upset her because frankly, I was on edge not knowing what was going on with her. She never kept things from me.

“What do you mean?” she asked, but she didn’t meet my eyes.

I placed my forefinger under her chin and tilted her head back. “Isabel,” I said in a low voice. “What’s going on?” She didn’t answer me right away, and when I saw the tears start forming in her eyes, I cursed. “Did someone fuck with you?” I curled the hand not touching her into a fist and gritted my teeth. I needed to stay calm, because the very thought of someone messing with her had me nearly going off the rails.

“If someone fucked with you, so help me God…” I shook my head. “I’ll make them hurt.” I stared into her hazel eyes, could see her mahogany colored hair blowing around her shoulders. Hell, I could smell the citrusy scent that always surrounded her. Despite not knowing what was up with her, I was getting hard, wanting her like a fiend wanting a hit of my addiction.

She shook her head. “No one hurt me, Quinn.” Her voice was low, distant almost.

I wanted to smooth my thumb along the soft skin under her chin, but I refrained and pulled my hand away. “You’ve been acting weird all day. Tell me what’s wrong, because I know you well enough that I can see you’re bothered.”

She looked at the ground and closed her eyes. After a second, she lifted her head and looked me right in the eyes. God, she was gorgeous; even looking like someone had ripped her heart out and stomped on it, she was the most beautiful fucking person I’d ever seen. I wanted to pull her in and kiss her until she was breathless, wanted to tell her I loved her, and that I was so fucking in love with her I lay in bed at night thinking about her being mine.

I wanted to tell Isabel she was it for me … that she was the only one I’d ever want.

I was a virgin, and I wanted Isabel to be my first and last.

“We’re moving, Quinn.”

Her words brought me back to the present, had me blinking and trying to process what she’d said. “What?” I asked, hearing her, knowing what she said, but not comprehending it.

“I’m moving. My dad got a promotion, and relocating is part of it.” She brushed away a tear that fell from her eye.

“Moving?” I asked, my voice thick, tight.

She nodded.

I shook my head. “When?”

She was silent for long moments, and I felt myself become tighter, knowing what she was going to say would be fucking hell.

“Less than two weeks.”

I felt the breath leave me. I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at her, watching as the tears slid down her cheeks.

“Two fucking weeks?” I gritted those words out. “Are you serious?”

She nodded.

Reaching up, because I couldn’t stand to see her crying, to see her hurt, I cupped her cheek and brushed two tears away with my thumb.

“How the hell can anyone move in two weeks?” I meant to say those words to myself, but they spilled forth. “Fuck,” I said and squeezed my eyes shut.

We hadn’t been apart for more than a day since we were ten.

I fucking loved her.

I love you.

She cupped my hand, neither of us speaking or moving for long moments. Finally, she sighed and smiled, but it was sad.

“The position my dad is taking needs to be filled right away.” Her voice was soft. “And my mom doesn’t want to wait a year until I’m done with school to move out there. She wants to be with my dad.”

Yeah, I got that, understood it even, but hell, what about us?

It was then, as those words sunk in, that I felt rage fill me. I felt this bone-deep anger that took my breath away, that stole every single ounce of sanity. I wanted to avenge her even if there wasn’t a monster in front of her, wasn’t someone that had stolen an ounce of her flesh. I wanted to be the one to hold her close and keep her by me, making sure she couldn’t be hurt, not by her family … not by a distance that was the enemy.

I wanted to tell her right then that everything would be okay, that I’d never walk away from her. I’d follow her to the end of the fucking world if I had to.

She was it for me, and tonight I’d tell her how I felt.

Tonight, I’d take her somewhere private, where it was just us, and tell her my deepest secret.

Tonight I’d tell Isabel that I loved her, and nothing would keep us apart.