chapter two
pretty girls don't cry

$$

          The silence was something Izzy Windsor had to become accustomed to. After her mother was buried in their private family plot, sound seemed to evade her life. Laughter became taboo, and smiling was only acceptable on certain occasions. She and her father stopped talking, too. Not that they really talked before, but after they had to bury the glue holding their family together, the two of them became ghosts desperately trying to avoid each other like strangers in their own home. But he'd practically been neglecting her since she was born anyway, so it wasn't that big of a change.

         And, it wasn't like it was hard to avoid her father like the plague when they lived in a house the size of a hotel. Voices echoed inside, dancing through the many empty hallways and vacant rooms. There were even some parts of her house that she had yet to see the inside of, which was unusual considering she had been living there since she was born. They even had access to a beach of their own which her father bought so it would always be open to them and closed to the public. It was their property and so was almost everything in the Outer Banks. The Windsors practically built that island.

          So, yeah, whatever, avoiding him wasn't so hard. Izzy just kept to her room and when she would hear him coming close, she'd escape to their pool or just hop in her convertible and drive aimlessly across town. But it wasn't like he actually checked up on her anyway. He wasn't even home most of the time. Sometimes the staff would pop in and see if she'd kicked the bucket, but that was it.

          Anyway . . . Izzy stayed locked up in her bedroom most of the time, though. She found the silence was more comforting there among her designer clothes and crystal chandelier. If she was being honest, her room resembled a small apartment. There wasn't a kitchen or anything like that but she had her own bathroom and a walk-in closet the size of a small bedroom. Her closet was adorned with a (smaller) crystal chandelier of its own, accompanied by lavish couches and shelves of shoes, jewelry, and other accessories as well as a few floor-length mirrors and racks filled with all her favorite clothes.

          She liked her closet, and she liked her room. It was safe there. The silence didn't wrap her in a cold embrace and suffocate her under its pressure, instead, it sat idly by, drifting in the air surrounding her. She could breathe when she was in her room.

          But sometimes, the silence came washing back into her life in waves, knocking her off her feet and leaving her feeling more alone than ever. So to push it away, she painted. She painted every inch of her bedroom walls, filling the vacant space with all the images which warmed her heart. Painting made her feel free. It was the one thing she could control in her life, and she used that to her advantage. She painted every chance she got. So it was no surprise the walls of her bedroom were adorned with paintings of anything that came to her mind. Sometimes the images didn't even make sense, but they felt right . . . like they were meant to be placed there. It all made her feel as though this was her purpose. That this was where she belonged. It was the only time Izzy Windsor felt like she belonged anywhere.

          That afternoon was no exception.

          It was a few days after a hurricane, Hurricane Agatha to be exact, hit North Carolina and knocked out all the power and destroyed parts of the Outer Banks. The Cut, where all the working class residents lived, was hit worse than Figure Eight, mostly because rich people had money and money got things done. So in, like, a day or so, Figure Eight would be looking almost as new and shiny as it had before the hurricane. As for the Cut . . . they would probably be without the internet and other necessities for a few weeks or even months.

          Izzy was glad she didn't have to deal with that. The world wasn't fair, but she knew it had been fairer to her than to those who lived on the Cut. She knew it made her sound ignorant and selfish but she was glad money could get her anything she wanted. Money got things done. Money was the reason that her father sent for their staff, who worked for the Windsors for years, to clean up their estate before Izzy could even bat an eye. She liked it that way. Life was easier when she didn't have to struggle any more than she already was. And it was money that made that possible. Money was basically Izzy Windsor's favorite company.

          But, anyway, money aside, Izzy still trapped herself in her room and had been painting since the sun rose. And as she painted, her life passed by her in a blur. It was all a bit melancholic or maybe melodramatic, really.

          She expected the day to just go by in a blur and then maybe she'd watch a movie or do her makeup for no reason. Because, normally, the days went by quickly when Izzy painted. One second the sun would be shining through the window, blinding her, then the next, the stars would be winking at her in the night sky. But it wasn't so bad. She sometimes liked it when the days blended all together. It made it easier to breathe when time wasn't weighing her down. But that day was different. Time didn't pass by her in a blur. That day, time seemed to taunt Izzy like a menacing hiss in her ear.

          You see, Sarah Cameron had come over around an hour ago with Scarlet Adams and Jennifer Harding, two other girls from their boarding school. And while that was fine (she guessed), they didn't just come over to hang out or pick a bottle of wine from the Windsors' wine cellar to drink. Instead, they'd come with the news of a kegger going to be thrown in the Boneyard in just a few hours. Sarah claimed Izzy had to come with the girls and start their summer off by having nothing but a good time. Izzy didn't really want to go, but being around Sarah and the others made the silence evade her life, so whatever.

          Izzy wouldn't admit it but it was easier to breathe around them, even if she wasn't really the best of friends with the two other girls. But honestly, whatever, Izzy didn't really have friends anyway, so she just found herself agreeing to tag along, but not before she finished painting. She claimed if she stopped in the middle, the paint would dry wrong and she'd have to start over with a blank canvas. Sarah found that a bit melodramatic, but nevertheless, she and the other girls disappeared inside Izzy's massive closet and searched for outfits they could wear to the event . . . while Izzy finished up her painting.

          As Izzy was finishing up the details on the painting of what appeared to be a cluster of distorted faces, Sarah barged out of the closet and plopped down on the King Size bed pressed up against the wall in the middle of the room. She propped herself up on her elbows and peered over at the girl painting on the wall. She squinted her eyes and pushed off the bed before she approached Izzy and peered over her shoulder to inspect the painting. "What's that supposed to be?" she asked, tilting her head to see if that would help her decipher the odd faces.

          Izzy didn't respond and kept her eyes on the face she had just painted. The face stared at her with such disdain in its eyes, she felt herself wanting to ask what was wrong. But she didn't, instead, she looked at the face above it and cleared her throat. "I don't know," she muttered, her voice monotonous. "I guess it's my take on Picasso."

          Sarah hummed in acknowledgment. "It looks sad," she mumbled as she rested her chin on Izzy's shoulder and huffed out a sigh. "But I guess all artists are, like, tortured souls, right? You one of them?"

          Izzy didn't respond, she only sighed. The face did look sad, and she wondered if Sarah was right about her. She wondered if maybe Izzy Windsor was a quote-on-quote tortured soul. Maybe she was sad . . . just like her art . . . but she easily shoved away those thoughts. She couldn't be sad. She was rich. She had money. She didn't get to be sad.

          "Jen thinks her tits look weird," Scarlet abruptly announced as she walked out of the walk-in closet and sat down on the bed, with Jennifer trailing behind her. Their entrance caused Izzy to snap out of her daze, and realize that no she wasn't sad . . . she was just, like, bored or whatever.

          Jennifer made a face at the girl's comment. "I do not," she scoffed with the roll of her eyes. She glanced at Izzy and Sarah, then gave a small shrug. "They're just a little too small, you know? It's not like you see on insta." She plopped down on the bed and propped herself up on the palms of her hands.

          "Of course it's not like on insta," Izzy muttered as she added highlights to one of the faces. "That shit is fake as fuck."

          All that shit aside, Izzy Windsor hated the fact that women were supposed to look a certain way. It pissed her off to no end, but she still found herself comparing herself to the models in the magazines. Sometimes she couldn't help it. She knew people saw her as this perfect Barbie doll with plastic skin and basically no flaws. But she did have flaws as much as she didn't want to, and sometimes those flaws went to her head and she compared herself to the other Instagram models.

          "Easy for you to say," Jennifer groaned as she curled a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear. "Your tits are perfect." She gestured to Izzy, waving her hand up and down her body.

          And as those words left her lips, Izzy suddenly felt like a doll sitting in a display window, her body showcased for the whole world to criticize. She knew she should have been more content with Jennifer's comment. But like, come on. She just wanted to be known for more than her looks, but nobody cared to ask what Izzy Windsor thought about the stars in the sky or the meaning of life. They didn't even hear her when she talked, and that made her wish she could run away to some place where no one knew her name. She wanted to start over, but whatever, no one ever got everything they really wanted, even people like her.

          "Your tits are fine, Jen," Izzy said instead of voicing her thoughts. She knew what the girls would say if they knew what she was thinking. They'd tell her she was stupid for thinking that way, because she had, like, everything she could ever want. And Izzy knew that too . . . so she just kept her mouth shut.

          "You know . . . there's a new trend going around about something called hip dips. I didn't think that shit even existed," Scarlet added after a second, glancing at the other girls with her brows raised high on her forehead. "I found that out like a month ago, and obviously I checked to see if I had that shit . . . and yep . . . unfortunately I was cursed with them."

          Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Great, another thing to worry about."

          "Okay, hold on," Sarah began, causing the girls to glance her way. She was on her phone now, texting her boyfriend . . . probably, but she still managed to keep one ear peeled to catch the gist of the conversation. "There's nothing wrong with your body, or your body, or mine or Izzy's or anyone's."

          "Tell that to the media," Jennifer mumbled. "Whatever, anyway . . . I'm getting changed, all right, bitches?" With that, she pushed off the bed and headed toward Izzy's closet, disappearing inside.

          Scarlet got up as well. "It's okay if we borrow your shit, right?" she asked Izzy briefly as she stopped in front of the closet and peered over at the blonde girl.

          Izzy only shrugged. "Yeah, whatever." The thing about Izzy Windsor: she said whatever a lot. It was just the only word that made people fuck off and leave her alone without making her sound like a total bitch, even though . . . she was.

          And Scarlet seemed to buy that. She disappeared inside the walk-in closet, leaving Izzy and Sarah to sit in silence. Although, Sarah didn't seem to notice the others' departure, she just kept staring at her phone with a small smile on her face. She slowly made her way to the bed and sat down on the mattress without glancing up from her device. And while she was too focused on her phone, Izzy averted her gaze from the girl and turned back to her painting. When she made eye-contact with the painting, she had an urge to drag her paintbrush all over it and ruin it.

          It wasn't that she necessarily hated the painting. She just hated the way it reminded her about her life. She knew she shouldn't have been complaining because she literally had everything she could ever want, and her so-called friends weren't that bad, but still . . . it bugged her.

          The thing was: while Izzy had gone to the same boarding school with the three other girls, she wouldn't necessarily call them friends. Don't get her wrong, Sarah was her friend, she guessed, but sometimes she felt like the girl was only tolerating her because she felt like she had to. But the other two were different.

          Izzy knew nothing was purely black and white. There had to be that moral gray in the middle to balance all that shit out. And people were the same way. It wasn't that Scarlet and Jennifer were like these horrible human beings, or the mean girls in a stupid rom-com. Izzy's life wasn't a fucking movie, okay? But the two girls clearly only stuck around Izzy because she had more money than them and gave them access to all the shit they could ever want. And it wasn't like Izzy could blame them. If she wasn't rich and didn't have a credit card to pay for everything, she would've done the same thing. It just sucked knowing they were probably only hanging around her because of her money.

          But, whatever, right? At least, she wasn't totally alone. Plus . . . sometimes they could be all right to hang around, especially when they were drunk and dissing the boys they had hooked up with. But dealing with them when she was sober was a lot, and she meant a lot, harder.

          While Izzy was wrapped up in her own thoughts, the two girls walked out of the closet dressed in some of Izzy's clothes. Izzy barely even noticed them re-enter the room, but Scarlet had set her eyes on the blonde. As she leaned against the wall to put her heels on, she kept her eyes trained on the Windsor girl. "Iz, why are you always painting sad shit like that?" she asked, her voice not stern but hard. "We're supposed to be dressing like we own this bitch, not showcasing our depression."

          Her words resonated with Izzy. She kept repeating the words over and over again in her head. We're supposed to be dressing like we own this bitch, not showcasing our depression, her voice rang in the blonde's ears. She was just so confused with Scarlet's accusation. She wasn't depressed. And with those thoughts on her mind, Izzy glanced over her shoulder to give Scarlet a look. "I'm not showcasing anything," she muttered, bitterly. "I'm not fuckin' depressed."

          Scarlet waved the girl off with her hand. "I still think you need to go on meds," she said with a shrug as she slipped on her other heel.

          Izzy only rolled her eyes.

          "So, fuck this depressing bullshit talk," Jennifer began as she fixed her lipstick in the mirror. She pursed her lips and gave herself a once-over before she turned around and faced the other girls. "What do we think?" She shot the girls a look while gesturing to the dress she was wearing.

          Sarah put her phone down and nodded. "Love that," she said.

          Jennifer smiled, widely before she turned to Izzy. "It's okay if I borrow this, right, Iz?" she asked, biting her lip.

          "Yeah, sure," was all Izzy said, but this time she added a small smile. Now, look, she never really showed kindness to other people because fuck that, but sometimes she tried.

          Sure, it was kind of taboo for the quote-on-quote mean girl to show anyone an ounce of kindness, but this was different. Because while none of the girls, Izzy included, were necessarily good people (really they were all bitches and they knew that, too), the Windsor girl had always preferred Jennifer over Scarlet. Jennifer was just a bit more like Izzy, and so the Windsor girl found herself being able to talk to her more. There was also the fact that in the ninth grade, they kissed and Izzy didn't hate it. That was when she realized sexuality was a spectrum and she just so happened to be attracted to both men and women.

          Okay . . . so . . . maybe Izzy liked Jennifer a little more than Scarlet because once upon a time, she actually liked her. But, take that with a grain of salt, because that was so long ago, so whatever. It was just an ounce of kindness; it wasn't a big deal, okay?

          Time started to blur together again, and Izzy felt her mind begin to numb, but before she could let her thoughts melt, someone spoke up. "Oh my god, what is this?" Sarah asked, her voice light and airy. "Is this your super-secret website?"

          Izzy furrowed her brows and glanced over her shoulder to see what had caught her friend's attention. She shifted her eyes from the back of Sarah's head to the laptop screen resting on her vanity across the room. She had almost forgotten she left the webcam on for the whole day. She guessed she got so wrapped up in painting that she forgot she was recording herself.

          Here was the thing about Izzy Windsor: she was worth a lot. She was born to a billionaire businessman for a father and a model for a mother, so that obviously got her some attention from the world. She knew it sounded like some cheesy movie from the nineties, but she couldn't help that the Windsor bloodline had built an empire of wealth over the decades. Besides it wasn't like that was enough to make her famous or anything too far-fetched like that, but it was enough to give her a small following on Instagram. Plus, everyone in town basically knew her as the Outer Banks's tragedy girl with too much money on her credit card.

And . . . she was pretty, too. She knew that. Which was exactly why a lot of people on the internet would dedicate their time to following her. So Izzy used that to her advantage and created a website when she was fifteen where she would broadcast herself live while she was painting or listening to music. She found that knowing people were watching her every move made the void disintegrate. She didn't feel so alone when hundreds of eyes were on her.

          "It's not a secret," Izzy finally said, holding the paintbrush between her thumb and pointer finger. "It's like . . . whatever . . . " She let her words trail off. She just wasn't in the mood to come up with a better response. She was too tired.

          Sarah kept her eyes trained on the webcam as she watched herself hold up her hand in the recording. "Is it recording?" she questioned. She glanced at Scarlet, who only responded by giving a small laugh.

          "It's always recording," Izzy muttered, in a monotonous voice.

          Sarah looked over her shoulder with her brows raised. "Like . . . always?" she mumbled.

          Scarlet raised a brow. "Like even when you're . . . you know . . . ?"

          "Oh, my God, are you like a camgirl?" Jennifer asked.

          "Uh . . . no," Izzy muttered, slowly, as she scrunched her nose. She shook her head slightly, then she met the girls' gazes. "Okay, so whatever, then . . . I guess it's not always on, but, like, it is most of the time."

          "So they can see us, right?" Sarah asked as she waved her hand in front of the webcam.

          The Windsor girl formed her mouth into a tight-lipped smile and nodded. "Yeah, that's the point."

          Sarah shot her a look before she turned her attention back to the webcam. "Hi—" she flashed a smile and waved her hand at the camera once again— "fans of Punk and—What?" She looked over her shoulder with a questioning look on her face. "Really? Punk and Disorderly?"

          Izzy shrugged. "I've had it since I was fifteen. Give me a break."

          Sarah gave a laugh. "Obviously." She continued to wave at the camera while Scarlet and Jennifer peered over to look at the laptop screen to read the comments.

          Izzy only sighed at the people she called her friends. Sometimes she didn't understand them. Other times, she envied them. Deep down, she wished she could smile and wave at a camera like nothing mattered. But everything mattered to Izzy, making it hard to even so much as smile. She couldn't voice those thoughts out loud, though. She had Versace clothes and Prada handbags. She couldn't go around saying smiling made her want to rip out her hair. If she did, everyone would call her ungrateful or say she was doing it for attention.

          It wasn't like she expected everyone else around her to be glum and gloomy. She wasn't like that. She just wished she could smile more, but after her mother died, she just didn't want to. It was just . . . annoying and exhausting. Thus, why she quit the cheer team that year (too much damn fake smiling to handle).

          But instead of voicing her thoughts and letting the world know she was miserable, Izzy said, "Everybody's going to click out if you keep doing that."

          Sarah flipped her the middle finger. "Do they know what a bitch you are?" She turned off the webcam and then grabbed a blanket draped over the chair in front of the vanity and covered the webcam with it just to be safe. She turned around and caught sight of Izzy's unamused expression. She shot her back an equally unimpressed look. "Shush, you know I love you."

          Izzy rolled her eyes. "Sure," she whispered under her breath as she turned to face the wall. She finished up the final details of the painting and stepped back. It wasn't her best, but it was something, and she somewhat liked it.

          The Windsor girl nodded at her painting then set down the paintbrush in the cup of water resting on the stool beside her. She wiped her hands on a towel draped over the stool and looked around the room for a sight of Sarah. She noticed Jennifer and Scarlet went to sit down on the bed again and were now showing each other things on their phones while they waited. But Izzy wasn't looking for them, she was looking for Sarah. And when Izzy couldn't find her warm body in the room, she figured Sarah must have disappeared into the closet, and then she followed in her footsteps.

          When Izzy entered the wall-in closet, Sarah looked over her shoulder from her spot near a rack of designer clothes. "Your closet is so much better than mine," the Cameron girl claimed as she faced the clothes and sifted through them.

          Izzy shrugged. "Thank my mom's connections," she muttered as she searched through the clothes for one piece that didn't remind her of her mother. "Most of it is limited edition or one of a kind."

          "I wish I could live here," Sarah remarked, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'd never complain again."

          Izzy's heart dropped at those words. It was clear selfish Izzy Windsor complained too much for a rich girl, and Sarah had just confirmed that. "Says the girl living in a big ass mansion," she uttered, the words like venom. She didn't mean for it to come out so brutal or harsh. She hoped Sarah hadn't noticed.

          It appeared the Cameron girl hadn't even realized the tone of Izzy's voice as she looked at her with wide eyes and laughed. "Excuse you? Have you seen this place?" she rhetorically asked, stretching her arms out at her sides then pointing to the crystal chandelier hanging above their heads. "I got lost trying to find the kitchen and then I got lost again trying to get back to your room when we were kids, remember?"

          Izzy sent her a tight-lipped smile. She felt like she was pulling strings just to turn up the corners of her lips. "Trust me, I wish it was smaller or at least different." 

          Because here was the thing: sure, she loved her room and all, but every corner reminded her of her mother. There in the far left, sitting on the top shelf was her mother's god-awful scarf that she bought one Christmas in Oxford. And covered by a poster of The Cure was a small hole that her mother had made while trying to hammer a nail into the wall (it hadn't been covered because Julia kept forgetting to cover it . . . so Izzy just slapped her favorite band over it and called it a day). The point was that everywhere Izzy looked in her closet, she saw her mother. She could hear her walking across the floorboards, and sometimes when the chandelier shook, she could hear her laugh echo through the room. And sometimes . . . sometimes Izzy still found loose strands of her mother's hair on some of the clothes or discarded onto the flooring. That was why she wished it was smaller or different or anything else other than exactly the same way it was when her mother was still alive. Maybe then the small hole in her wall would just be a hole and nothing more.

          "Oh, as if," Sarah scoffed.

          Izzy didn't respond, she only stood there looking around her closet as Sarah sifted through the clothes. The Cameron girl was looking for an outfit to wear to the party, that much was clear. Izzy didn't mind that she wanted to borrow something from her. They had been sharing clothes since they were kids and plus, Izzy would want to borrow some of her clothes too if she were Sarah. Izzy's closet was something else. She could recognize that, so she understood the excitement which washed over the Cameron girl as she looked through the rows of shoes and drawers filled with jewelry.

          "What about this one?" Sarah said, breaking the silence. She pulled a light blue dress adorned with a flower print design and a low-cut neckline from the closet and showed it to Izzy.

          Izzy's heart dropped. She felt a pricking sensation in her eyes as she stared at the dress in Sarah's hands. The dress used to be her mom's. One of her favorites, actually. Izzy wanted to cry right then, but she reminded herself she couldn't. Pretty girls didn't cry, especially spoiled, rich ones. "That was my mom's," she mumbled, her voice weak.

          "Oh."

          As Sarah began to put it back, Izzy stepped forward and stopped her. "You should keep it," she abruptly said, the impulsivity shining through her voice and quick actions. She didn't know why she said it, but a part of her just wanted to get the dress out of her sight.

          Sarah furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

          Izzy shrugged. "It'll look better on you."

          "You sure?"

          "Yeah, why not?" Izzy curled a fallen piece of bleached blonde hair behind her ear and looked anywhere except at Sarah. She hoped the other girls couldn't hear her from the other room. That would have been embarrassing. "It's not like she's using it anyway."

          "Um."

          Izzy forced herself to laugh. It hurt to remember her mom, but sometimes she just wanted to forget . . . maybe not completely, but just a bit. Maybe making dark jokes about her death would fill the void. And maybe, just maybe, giving away parts of her mom would help her numb her thoughts. Maybe then she wouldn't feel like she was sinking anymore. "It was a joke, Sarah," she said with a shrug. "Lighten up."

          Sarah sent her a small smile before she clutched the dress in her hands and went to the other side of the closet to change into it. When she was gone, Izzy sifted through her closet, trying to find a dress or a coverup that would go over the white bathing suit she was wearing under her T-shirt and shorts. Her hand passed over multiple dresses before something white caught her eye. She pulled out a white low-cut mini dress that was flared at the bottom. It was slightly see-through so everyone at the party would probably be able to see her bathing suit, but she didn't care. She liked the attention.

          Izzy decided she liked the color white. It made her feel pure again like she hadn't been tainted by the world. She felt brighter. Free.

          The Windsor girl took the dress off its hanger and began to pull off her regular clothes so she could change into it. She slipped the white dress over her body and went in search of a pair of sandals. She plucked a pair of tan sandals and slipped them over her feet before she snatched a pair of Chanel sunglasses from her display and put them on top of her head. When she went in search of a necklace and some earrings, Sarah approached her, dressed in the blue dress Izzy's mother used to adore.

          "Well, you look hot as fuck," Sarah exclaimed with a wide smile on her face.

          Izzy offered her a smile. This time, it didn't feel so forced. "Says you," she complimented. Sarah was pretty, even Izzy knew that. Anyone could see it and if they didn't, they must have been blind.

          Sarah playfully winked at her before she went in search of some jewelry to clasp around her neck. She decided on a few simple necklaces that elongated her neck, making her appear taller. Izzy clasped a diamond necklace around her own neck and glanced at Sarah. She wondered for a moment why they were even dressing up for this thing or going to it in the first place, considering the Boneyard was sort of the Pogues' side of the island.

          And then she found herself voicing her thoughts. "Can I ask why we're even going to this thing?" Izzy asked.

          Sarah opened her mouth to answer but she was cut off. "Because it's fun, Iz!" Scarlet yelled from the bedroom. (So maybe they could hear everything the two had been saying.) "You remember how to have fun, right?"

          Izzy only rolled her eyes. "Can you stop being a cunt for like two seconds?" she called back, her voice bitter. The girl scoffed in response, but Izzy didn't care. Sometimes she just got so tired of Scarlet, and she couldn't help but chew her out. Sure, she wasn't awful, but you know that friend or "friend" or whatever who just gets on your nerves for no reason? Yeah, that was Scarlet Adams.

          Sarah gave Izzy a look, but she ended up having to muffle a laugh. "Okay, rude," she said under her breath, still laughing slightly. She waved off Izzy's annoyed expression and continued her thoughts. "Rafe heard about it and he said it'd be fun. Plus, some people are saying it's the Pogues's way of celebrating slash remembering Scooter Grubbs."

          Izzy furrowed her brows. "What happened to Scooter Grubbs?"

          Sarah blinked. "He died, Iz," she mumbled. "They found his body in the marsh, I think."

          "Oh," was all Izzy said. Don't get her wrong, she didn't have a right to feel upset about Scooter Grubbs, who was like sort-of a deadbeat living on the Cut (she didn't really know him, so she really had no idea who he was), but she still hated death. Death reminded her of her mother . . . and it just . . . sucked.

          "Plus, like I said, Rafe said it'd be fun," Sarah muttered once again, tearing Izzy from her mind.

          Once brought back to reality, Izzy only scoffed. "Of course, he did."

          "Are you guys fighting or something?" Sarah asked, furrowing her brows.

          "Or something."

          "Wanna' elaborate?" Sarah beckoned, tilting her head. "Do I need to kick him in the dick?"

          "He's just a lot." Izzy shook her head and sighed. "It's just—There are seven almost eight billion people in the world and sometimes you just need one to make all the bullshit better. Sometimes it takes just one person to make you feel seen . . . like you actually matter. And when I'm with Rafe it feels like—" she cut herself off, trying to find the words to make everything in her head make sense. "He just doesn't feel like that person. I mean the only time I feel like we understand each other is when we're having sex."

          Sarah made a face. "Oh, gross," she said as she pretended to gag. "I so do not need to know my brother has a sex life . . . but I get what you mean." A sigh escaped her lips. It sounded heavy, maybe even strained. "I mean Topper and I haven't slept together yet and I don't really know why. I guess I'm waiting for something to tell me that it's the right thing to do."

          Izzy blinked. She realized maybe she should have waited, too, but it wasn't that easy. Every boy she had ever been with only wanted one thing . . . and they all wanted the same thing. Over time, Izzy just got used to it. She just expected it. "Sometimes sex is the easy part," she mumbled, somewhat voicing her thoughts.

          "Yeah, it's just sex, Sarah," Scarlet stated from the bedroom, clearly still listening to their conversation. "You're not choosing what college you're going to."

          Izzy rolled her eyes at the girl's response. She wished the Adams girl would just fuck off sometimes. She didn't even know why she was eavesdropping in on the conversation, but whatever.

          "No, I know," Sarah mumbled as she slowly walked out of the closet and approached the girls in the bedroom. "I'm not worried about it being weird or anything . . . but it's just . . . when we get close to doing something more, I back out. It's a lot to take in I guess. I just feel claustrophobic when shit like that happens."

          Izzy felt her heart ache for a moment. She didn't want to let herself care about people, but this was Sarah and she would always care about her in some way. "You know you don't have to, like, sleep with him, right?" she muttered as she walked toward her and stood beside her. She felt the urge to hug the girl beside her, but she refrained. "If you don't want to, then you don't want to. He should respect that . . . and if he doesn't then dump his ass. It's your choice, S. Don't feel like you have to do anything."

          Sarah ran a hand through her hair. "I just feel stupid," she muttered, shaking her head at her own words. "Like I owe him it or something."

          Izzy shook her head and this time she did reach out to put a hand on Sarah's arm. Sarah glanced at her and they locked eyes. "You don't owe him shit," the Windsor girl spat; her blood was already boiling at the thought that Topper of all people was making Sarah feel this way. No girl should ever feel like they have to have sex to please their boyfriends. If only she could listen to her own thoughts, but she wasn't talking about herself, she was concerned about Sarah, and only Sarah. "If he thinks sex is a reward for being your boyfriend, then I'll fuckin' kill him."

          Sarah stared at her for a minute before she allowed herself to laugh. "I'll allow it only if you remember to record it."

          Izzy winked. "Of course."

          "Are you two done?" Jennifer groaned as she looked between the two blonde girls with her brow raised. "I need to get wasted."

          "For real," Scarlet agreed. "I still wish we were having our own kegger here instead of going to the Boneyard. Having to interact with those freaks is so degrading."

          Jennifer flicked her eyes to glance at Izzy. "At least none of them follow you around like they do with Izzy," she mused with a small grin on her face.

          Izzy furrowed her brows. "What do you mean 'like they do with me'?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, defensively.

          "You know? The blond one?" Jennifer questioned, slowly. "JJ . . . I think his name is."

          Oh, god. Izzy Windsor was so fucking tired of talking about JJ Maybank. It was like he was brought up in every conversation she ever had. She wished people would leave her alone about the boy. But she didn't say that. Instead, she spat, "What about him?"

          The amused grin on Jennifer's face only grew. "Everywhere you go, he's there," she stated. "Like when we crashed Kildare County High's hoco this year . . . he literally kept following you around. Even Rafe noticed."

          Izzy briefly remembered that night, although, it was all a bit blurry since she got wasted soon after she arrived at the dance. She remembered talking with JJ that night, and she wouldn't admit it, but she didn't entirely hate talking to him either. But, that was months ago. Izzy was different now . . . perhaps even worse.

          But her silence didn't stop the questioning. Instead, Scarlet only added to the fire. "Yeah . . . " she trailed off, squinting her eyes at the Windsor girl. "Uh . . . didn't you hook up with him in the bathroom after the dance?"

          Izzy didn't have time to scoff before Jennifer interfered. "No," the Harding girl corrected as she waved her hand in the air, writing Scarlet's assumptions off, "she smoked with him."

          Okay, so maybe Izzy also remembered that. And maybe that was why she had tolerated him. Because, truth be told, people were a lot easier to deal with when she was high. She missed that, but she couldn't fuck up again. Not with her father looming over her shoulder, reminding her she was a fuck up. "Only because he has like the best weed on the island," she eventually muttered out. Then, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever, that was months ago. I don't even smoke anymore."

          Scarlet rolled her eyes. "Well, that's just depressing."

          "She doesn't have to smoke. I don't," Sarah butt in. She wrapped an arm around Izzy's shoulders, making the Windsor girl feel slightly uncomfortable with the sudden show of affection. "Besides if we did and our dads found out . . . they'd kill us." And she wasn't wrong. If William Windsor found out about Izzy's drug abuse, he'd take away her credit card. And Izzy just couldn't have that.

          But the other two girls didn't seem too amused with that confession. "You're both so goddamn boring," Jennifer scoffed with a bored expression written across her face. "Can we just go already? My blood to alcohol ratio is just getting pathetic now."

          Sarah nodded. "Okay, yeah, but wait—" she dropped her arm from around Izzy's neck and then gestured to the dress she had borrowed from the Windsor girl— "are you sure this looks good?"

          "Looks great," Scarlet muttered, and Jennifer nodded in agreement. "Everybody thinks you're pretty, Sarah. It's like all anyone's ever told you. Of course, you look fine."

          Izzy mentally rolled her eyes at the girl, because, like, what kind of backhanded compliment was that? She then turned to Sarah and offered a smile, but it probably looked like a scowl. "You look like a maneater," she commented, softly. "So, like, you're hot as fuck, basically."

          "Maneater, huh?" Sarah remarked, grinning widely. "Maybe that'll teach Topper a lesson."

          Izzy furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

          Sarah's face fell slightly. "It's nothing," she muttered. Then, she gave a sigh. "Sometimes he just makes me feel so insecure. Like you know when someone picks apart every single part of your body? Yeah, sometimes he does that shit. I mean it's unintentional, but still."

          Izzy shook her head, immediately. She drew the line at men disrespecting women, because, honestly fuck that. "Don't listen to him. When Rafe does that shit to me I ignore his texts until eventually, he buys me like a necklace or something. His gifts are usually so ugly, but whatever—" she cut herself off and pursed her lips. She raised a brow and shrugged. "Never let a boy make you insecure like that, especially when he still measures his shrimp dick to see if it's grown overnight."

          "Men are such losers," Jennifer scoffed.

          "Topper's not a loser, he's just a dick," Sarah muttered. "Sometimes."

          Izzy shook her head. "All men are dicks," she spat, blatantly.

          "But they're hot," Scarlet offered.

          But Izzy wasn't finished. "Yeah, when they keep their mouths fuckin' shut," she muttered, bitterly. That caused the others to let out small laughs as they nodded their heads and agreed. And for a second as they (not Izzy, but whatever) laughed, the Windsor girl felt a bit better. She still felt bored and not . . . the best, but she decided she was going to try not to sulk the entire night. Either way . . . she knew it was going to be a long fucking night and that almost made her roll her eyes.

────────────

About thirty minutes had passed, and Izzy had found herself parking on the street near the Boneyard. The girls all hopped out of her car and walked toward the beach, and as they stepped onto the sand, Izzy realized she was surrounded by too many familiar faces. She had never cared to learn their names, though. The teenagers on the beach just looked like featureless vessels as they roamed around the beach, drinking from their solo cups and laughing amongst each other. She found herself envying them. They were so careless while she had been stuck inside her own head for hours now. Still, she found herself analyzing them as she and her so-called friends walked across the beach.

The Boneyard was currently filled with all kinds of people. There were three distinct groups to be precise. The Kooks were the wealthy kids who had trust funds and credit cards to replace birthday cards. Izzy was one of these people, obviously. Then there were the Pogues. As she had already mentioned, they were the working class of the Outer Banks and the Kooks' enemies. They just didn't get along like ever. And lastly, there were the Tourons who were only there for a week with their parents for a vacation. Izzy wished she could be like them. They were there for only a short time. They didn't have to live in the social hierarchy that Izzy was born into.

Izzy turned her attention away from them and glared at the ocean. She regretted ever agreeing to go to this thing in the first place. She wanted to go back to her house and paint the rest of her bedroom walls until her hand fell off or some shit. The silence was comforting there. At the Boneyard, the noise from all the teenagers happened to be worse than any silence Izzy had ever experienced. It was too loud. Too irritating. She felt like her heart was pounding in her ears, but she refused to show she was under duress, so she kept her lips sealed and continued to focus her attention on the crashing of the ocean waves to distract herself from her emotions.

Her friends were talking around her, but she ignored their voices. She just didn't care enough to listen. She just followed in their lead as they got in line to grab drinks at the keg, but she didn't say a word; instead, she kept on staring at the ocean, wondering if the tide would wash up onto the shore and drag her to the depths. Tsunamis were possible. Maybe it would happen. Maybe—

"Hey, Princess, I'm surprised to see you here," a voice interrupted her thoughts and tore her from her mind. She already knew who the voice belonged to, and that almost made her roll her eyes.

Unamused, Izzy breathed out through her nose and turned to meet the eyes of JJ Maybank. He was standing next to John B and handing out solo cups filled with beer to anyone who approached the keg. She rolled her eyes at them and glanced around for her friends, finding only Sarah was standing beside her while Jennifer and Scarlet must have grabbed their beers and taken off. But, whatever, the point was that JJ Maybank was a pain in her ass, and he was staring at her with that damn grin on his face almost as if he were taunting her. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough, then the tide would wash up on the beach and take him away. Her life would have been a lot quieter if he would just leave her alone.

"Glaring at me isn't going to make my head blow up," JJ mused, his lips twitching into a wider amused grin. "Is this what? Your more direct approach to killing me? Drowning and hitting me with a car wasn't enough for you?"

Izzy rolled her eyes. "I didn't hit you with my car, and I didn't fuckin' drown you," she spat as she crossed her arms over her chest. "It was an accident."

JJ nodded a few times. "You know . . . I hear you. I do . . . but that evil look in your eyes says differently," he remarked as he twirled a finger in her face.

Izzy smacked his hand out of her face. "Hilarious," she muttered, bitterly. "Can we have our beer now?" She raised a brow and gestured to the solo cup filled with beer in his hand. "You're holding up the line."

A half-grin slid onto JJ's face again. "Anything for you," he remarked, sarcastically. He handed her the solo cup, and sent her a wink.

Izzy snatched the cup out of his hand and flipped him off. "Ass," she muttered under her breath as she turned around and walked toward a piece of driftwood. She plopped down on the driftwood and stared at the beer fizzing in her cup, but she didn't move to bring it to her lips. She just stared.

Before her mind would wander, Sarah plopped down beside her on the driftwood with a sigh. She turned to stare at the side of Izzy's face. "See? Fate," she mused, her voice filled with amusement. "You and JJ are like . . . you know?"

Izzy only turned to glare at her.

That caused Sarah to laugh. "I'm kidding. I swear. It's not fate," she said as she raised a hand up in surrender. She then brought her solo cup to her lips and took a sip, swallowing the bitter liquid. "Anyways that aside . . . Topper's gonna' be here soon."

"Yeah, and Rafe, too, right?" Izzy questioned, her voice void of emotion. She so did not want to deal with her sorry-excuse of a boyfriend right now. She was too tired.

Sarah tapped her fingernails on the plastic of her cup. "You gonna' ignore him?" she asked, clicking her tongue.

"Mhm."

"Are you guys breaking up again?" Sarah asked, furrowing her brows. "What is this? The hundredth time?"

Izzy rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly. She didn't know what the fuck was going on with her and Rafe, and honestly, she didn't care at the moment. But she knew she'd eventually forgive him or whatever, because that was how it had always been. "We're not breaking up," she said, simply. "I'm just gonna' give him the cold shoulder until he fuckin' apologizes."

Sarah only nodded. Then, a second passed, and the silence began to enter their lives again, but before it could consume them, the Cameron girl spoke up. "I think Topper and I might have sex tonight," she said, quietly.

Izzy blinked. "What?"

"Or like at the party coming up," Sarah muttered out, quickly. "Maybe Midsummers. I don't know. I just have a feeling it's coming soon."

Izzy blinked . . . again. "And you're, like, okay with that?"

Sarah shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I guess."

"Yes or you guess?" Izzy asked. She didn't want Sarah to make the same mistakes as her and jump into sex too soon. Don't get her wrong, it was kind of all she knew now, but she didn't want that for Sarah. Because, sure, Izzy didn't want to care about other people, but sometimes she found herself slipping up and right now was a perfect example.

Sarah only nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I want to."

"I mean if you want to then, yeah, go for it," Izzy mumbled. She guessed that was the right thing to say. "But like if you don't want to . . . then don't."

"No, I want to," Sarah repeated, nodding again as if she were trying to convince herself. "I think."

Izzy bit her lip. "Um . . . if you, like, need someone to pick you up if you don't want to or, like, if you're uncomfortable . . . just call me."

As those words left her lips, a smile slid onto Sarah's face, and she turned to meet her friend's gaze. "Wow, so Izzy Windsor does have a heart," she remarked as she nudged the girl with her elbow.

Izzy only shook her head and turned back to the beer fizzing in the solo cup in her hand. Still, she did not raise the cup to her lips. Honestly, she didn't even know why she got it. She supposed she went to grab a cup to fit in or whatever. Because here was the thing: she didn't drink that much anymore. She used to. Hell, she used to have a reputation as Figure Eight's resident party girl, but that all changed.

She told people she didn't drink that much anymore because of her mom and what happened to her, and while she wasn't lying, she also stayed away from drugs and alcohol because of her father. Because, the thing about William Windsor was that he thought his daughter was kind of a fuck up, but he wanted her to be better than that. That meant no acting out, no drugs, no alcohol, no doing shit teenagers did. And if she slipped up, he'd resort to taking away her credit card which, like, Izzy couldn't have. So she just kept staring at the beer in the solo cup, but she never took a sip. She wasn't sure if she could bring herself to do it anyway.

A few minutes passed. Izzy barely noticed until she heard three new voices enter the atmosphere. She turned her head to see Rafe, Topper, and their other friend, Kelce, walking toward the two girls. Izzy locked gazes with Rafe and immediately rolled her eyes. She was still mad at him about the other day.

"Hey, babe," Topper greeted Sarah, pulling her into his arms.

Sarah gave a wide grin. "Hi," she whispered back. She stood on her toes and tilted her head so she could press her lips against his.

"Iz," Rafe said, trying to get his girlfriend's attention.

Izzy only flipped him off.

Kelce snorted. "What did you do to her?" he asked.

Rafe tore his gaze from Izzy's face and looked at Kelce in confusion. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded before he shook his head. "Nothing. She's just being stubborn."

Izzy clicked her tongue. "Do you people have brains? Or is it just hormones running things up there?" she spat through clenched teeth as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Kelce shrugged. "Little bit of both, Iz."

Izzy only rolled her eyes. And as she contemplated why she was even friends with these people, Scarlet and Jennifer decided it was a good time to approach the group. "Hey, guys," Jennifer greeted, cheerily with a wide grin across her freckled face.

The boys nodded in her direction, acknowledging the two other girls. Scarlet was about to say something, but then she caught sight of the solo cup in Izzy's hand, and she halted. A second later, she laughed under her breath. "Izzy, you're drinking?" she remarked, slowly. "What a surprise."

Izzy only shot her a blank look.

Scarlet waved off the Windsor girl's bitter attitude and turned back to the group. "Okay, so anyway, Adam brought another keg, and they're setting up a keg stand," she informed as she pointed to the group of Kooks across the beach. "Anyone want to go first?"

"Iz?" Kelce questioned, nodding his head at her. "You wanna' go? You know? Like you used to."

Izzy raised a brow. "Fuck, no."

"God, what is with you today?" Scarlet scoffed, shaking her head slightly. "It's like after your mom died, you forgot how to have fun."

Silence fell upon the group as the teenagers stood still and stared at each other in shock. But Izzy wasn't all that shocked. Sometimes, she really fucking hated Scarlet, so whatever. Her words were all it took before Izzy decided she had had enough. Her heart ripped at the edges, and she felt the void spread as this twine wrapped around her heart and sliced through the organ. She felt like crying, but she wouldn't show weakness in front of these people. So, instead, she let the solo cup slip from her grasp and hit the ground, spilling its contents across the sand. Then she simply let out a huff as she pushed off the driftwood and walked toward the crowd of people circled around the keg.

"Izzy! Iz, where are you going? Isadora!" Rafe called after her, which only fueled her fire more.

"Don't fucking call me Isadora!" Izzy yelled back as she raised two middle fingers in the air and continued walking. She walked past the people by the keg, and she kept walking until she reached a part of the beach where she could still see everyone, but she wasn't near any of them. She didn't want to be around them, but she also didn't want to feel like she was completely alone. She couldn't take that right now.

The Windsor girl sighed and reached into her leather tote bag to pull out her phone. It unlocked with a scan of her face and she delved into her notifications. She flipped through them, searching for something to catch her attention. And then there it was. There was a text message from her father that had been delivered two hours ago.

Disappointment clouded her senses. Sure, she hadn't even read it yet, but she knew what it was. It was going to be another letdown. Another thing Izzy could add to her list of why her father was horrible at being a dad. She knew it was wrong. After all, this man had given her everything she could ever want. She had been fed from a silver spoon. He allowed her to bleach her hair into a white-blonde. He allowed her to do whatever she wanted, and she should have been happy with that. But she wasn't.

Isadora Windsor didn't know if she'd ever be happy with what she had. She thought how sad it was that she was so incredibly disappointed and bored with her life at such a young age despite having the whole world at her fingertips. Maybe that made her selfish and stupid, but all she could feel was bored. She was so very bored . . . and sad. Wait, no, not sad. She couldn't be sad. She could allow herself to be bored and disappointed, but she could never allow herself to be sad. She had all the money in the world. If she claimed she was sad, then that would make her all the things she hated.

Rich people couldn't be sad. They could be bored and disappointed, but not sad. People with money knew nothing of hardships, she reminded herself. So what if her mom died . . . that didn't give her the right to be sad, not when there were other people in the Outer Banks who were barely getting by. She couldn't be sad, not if she was rich.

So Izzy, who was just bored, not sad, let herself sigh in disappointment before she tapped on her father's message. The screen shifted to his text message, and she began to read it, already knowing what to expect.

Dad: Isadora, I have just checked in with the new housekeeper. She said you were going out tonight, which is fine, I just wanted to make sure I touched base with you before Midsummers. I know I said I was going to be there to present the award and give my annual speech, but something has come up at work, and unfortunately I won't be able to make it. You can go with the Camerons. Be sure to be on your best behavior. I will have Rose inform me if anything does not go as planned. I hope to hear from you after the function.

"Your dad's an ass," someone said from behind her, startling her slightly.

"Jesus, fuck!" Izzy whipped around to see JJ peering over her shoulder with a red cup filled with beer in his hand. She groaned, giving him a look before she shoved his chest. "What the hell, JJ?"

A chuckle bubbled from JJ's throat as he shook his head in disbelief. "Didn't realize you were the jumpy kind, Princess," he smugly commented.

Izzy didn't question why he had snuck up on her. She already knew the answer. JJ just wanted to get under her skin. He liked to see her frustrated. She thought it gave him joy. She sighed at the thought then shoved her phone back into her tote bag and turned her attention to the waves of the ocean. She put her sunglasses over her eyes just in case her emotions decided to betray her and make her cry in front of the boy she despised. She couldn't have him see her like that.

The Maybank boy stared at her for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Sorry about your dad," he said. The weird thing was he actually sounded like he meant it.

Izzy shrugged. "Whatever."

JJ took a sip of his beer, licking the froth off his lip. "When I'd come over with my dad for whatever he was doing that day, your dad used to always give me this look. I don't exactly remember what it was, but it felt like he was judging me or some shit," he shared, his voice solemn. "Anyways, he's kind of a piece of shit."

"You're one to talk," Izzy scoffed. "Look at your father. He's pathetic." She felt the words sting her heart as she spoke them into existence. She didn't necessarily like it when she hurt people, but she knew how to, and she knew she had just left a mark on JJ.

JJ tilted his head to the ground as he bit the inside of his cheek and scoffed. "You know . . . I remember us being friends." He glanced up and met her eyes. "Actually more than that, maybe. If I remember correctly, we were hanging out at your private beach, which is kind of pretentious of you guys to own, but whatever . . . " Izzy grimaced, realizing what he was getting at. A smirk tugged at the corners of JJ's lips at the sight of her discomfort. "Anyways, you kissed me. And I'm pretty sure you said I was your first, so . . . "

Izzy's face went blank. "Literally shut the fuck up. I was thirteen. I would have kissed anyone."

"So that's why you started dating meathead over there two years later," JJ said as he pointed over his shoulder at Rafe who was conversing with Kelce and Topper. "Wait, no, sorry, it was for the money, wasn't it? Kind of weird for you guys to only marry to keep the wealth within the Kook cult. Isn't that sort of like incest or something?"

A scoff left Izzy's lips. This boy was unbelievable. "Really, JJ?"

"What?" JJ asked innocently, his eyes wide. "You're already a millionaire—"

"Billionaire," Izzy corrected. (Again, she knew it made her sound like some pretentious bitch, but she couldn't help that the Windsor bloodline had built their empire on money on top of money.)

JJ scoffed at that. "Right, billionaire . . . anyway, you're already a billionaire so why marry another rich dude?" he asked as he took another sip from his beer. "Personally, I think you guys should spread the wealth a little. No need to be selfish."

Izzy didn't respond. She only stared into his eyes, hoping she'd somehow set him on fire. Then a thought crossed her mind, and she stepped toward him with a condescending smile on her face. "Do you wanna' know what I'm thinking?" she asked in a low, dark voice.

"What?" JJ leaned forward as well, a grin on his face as he looked the girl up and down. "What's on your mind, Princess?"

Izzy gave an innocent smile. "I'm thinking about all the possible ways I could kill you and get away with it."

JJ squinted his eyes at the girl, taking in her every move before he decided to open his mouth and speak his thoughts. "You really hate me, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

For some reason, the conversation felt like one to be whispered despite them being the only two people out that far. Izzy could feel it. She was sure by the tone of his voice that JJ could, too.

"Take a guess," Izzy hummed as she raised a brow.

Something between a laugh and a scoff left JJ's lips. "Feeling's mutual, sweetheart," he said in a low, deep voice. "I wouldn't stay out here for too long. Your so-called friends might start to worry . . . but anyways, you have a great time, all right?"

With that, the boy turned around and retreated to the keg where all his friends resided. His friend, Kiara Carrera, was the first to greet him by punching him in the arm. She appeared to be arguing with him as his other friends, John B Routledge and Pope Heyward snickered at the two. Izzy knew why Kie was yelling. She knew because they used to be friends.

She, Sarah, and Kie used to go over to Izzy's estate and have runway shows with her mother's designer clothes. But then things changed, and suddenly they weren't friends anymore. Izzy was the one who forced them apart. She'd ruined their friendship, so she knew exactly why Kiara was yelling at JJ for talking to the girl she knew to be a spoiled bitch. But Izzy decided she didn't care and tore her gaze from them. However, she found that she was still thinking about what had just happened.

"Fuck," Izzy muttered as she shook her head. She didn't know if she wanted to punch JJ or laugh in his face. It was all so confusing. He was confusing, and he had a way of getting under her skin. She realized she was going to have to do a better job at pushing him away or else he'd discover something about her that even she had tried to forget. And she couldn't have him walking around with a version of herself etched into his brain. He couldn't know anything about her. She wouldn't let him.

a/n: i didn't know how to end this and it shows! but part two will be up soon considering i already have it written!! also if there are mistakes, my bad, i wrote this at 5 am!!

also if you're like "kinda unrealistic that her dad's a billionaire" i promise it's made to be that way. izzy's life is supposed to sort of be "unrealistic" but it has purpose to the fic. i wanted to model it after nicola's life & her dad's a billionaire so i figured this could be a life of a daughter of a billionaire. it'll be explained more in later chapters!!

also also scarlet & jen aren't supposed to be good people btw. like neither is izzy, but they're supposed to represent the "freeloading friends" in her life. but i still wanted to make them morally gray because people aren't just bad vs good!

also i'm putting this in every chapter that rafe is in: so i don't know who needs to hear this, but rafe IS a toxic person. he's a toxic person in the show and he's a toxic person in this fic. i wrote him like this because it's canon to the show. his and izzy's relationship should NOT be romanticized. i am not romanticizing them, and you shouldn't either. so please don't romanticize them. it's not cute. it's not romantic. it's wrong.

thanks for reading!