Xavier

[In the car]

As we drove through the quiet streets of the city, the tension in the car was palpable. Isla sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window, while I focused on the road ahead. The silence was heavy, filled with unsaid words and unresolved emotions.

"Thanks for driving me," Isla said finally, breaking the silence.

"You're welcome," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. "But you didn't have to be so dramatic with Jack."

She turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "Dramatic? You think asking for help when I need it is dramatic?"

I clenched the steering wheel, trying to keep my cool. "It's not about asking for help, Isla. It's about the way you handle things. Always so cold and distant. Maybe if you let people in a bit more, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "You don't know anything about me, Xavier. Don't pretend to understand my life or my choices."

I sighed, feeling the frustration build. "I don't need to know every detail to see that you push people away. It's like you enjoy being alone."

Isla scoffed, turning her gaze back to the window. "And you think you're any better? Playing the carefree brother while your sister handles all the real work. Must be nice."

The accusation stung, but I refused to let it show. "At least I'm trying to help her. At least I'm there for her when she needs me."

"And you think I'm not?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You have no idea how hard I work, how much I sacrifice."

We fell into silence again, the weight of our words hanging in the air. I stole a glance at her, noticing the tension in her jaw, the way her hands were balled into fists. Despite the anger simmering between us, there was something else—an undeniable pull, a connection that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

"Why do you always have to be so difficult?" I muttered under my breath.

"Why do you have to be so infuriating?" she retorted, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the world outside the car disappeared. There was something in her eyes, a mixture of anger and something softer, something that made my heart race. I looked away, focusing on the road, but the moment lingered.

"Maybe," I said quietly, "we're not so different after all."

Isla didn't respond, but I could see the conflict in her eyes. As we pulled up to her house, she took a deep breath and turned to me.

"Thank you, Xavier," she said, her voice softer now. "For driving me home."

"Anytime," I replied, feeling a strange mix of frustration and longing.

She got out of the car, and as I watched her walk to her door, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something complicated and undeniably real.