{Song for the chapter : Treat you better - Shawn Mendes}

It all started when Isla came back from Madrid for senior year. Three years away, and now here she was, walking the halls of St. John's like she never left. Dark blonde waves framed her face, a blue sweater hugging her frame, and her eyes scanned the room like she wasn't fazed by anything.

Isla Brookes always had this way of moving through life, like nothing could touch her.

Except this time, she wasn't alone. Jake Sutton walked beside her, his arm casually draped over her shoulders like he owned her. And that? That was a problem.

Jake was the definition of cocky. Another star player on the soccer team, always showing off as if the field was his personal stage. He had a habit of thinking he was the best at everything, and now, apparently, he thought that extended to Isla.

I hated it.

But the thing was, I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because I'd known Isla forever—long enough to know she wasn't the kind of girl who'd go for someone like Jake. But here she was, smiling up at him like he hung the moon. And that? Well, it didn't sit right with me.

As they approached, I leaned against my locker, trying to seem casual. My jaw clenched, though, when I saw the way Jake's hand tightened possessively around her shoulder.

"Dwyers!" Jake called out, his voice carrying the same arrogance it always did. "Ready for practice?"

I forced a tight smile, my gaze shifting from him to Isla. Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there. Recognition? A memory of who we used to be before Madrid and before Jake? I couldn't tell. But she smiled, and that was enough to pull me back to reality.

"Morning, Sutton," I said, my tone flat. "You're late again."

Jake shrugged, like it didn't matter. "Coach knows I'll deliver. That's all that counts, right?"

I rolled my eyes. It was typical Jake—thinking as long as he scored goals, nothing else mattered. "Maybe don't push your luck."

Isla let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as if she was used to his antics. "Theo's right. You can't keep skipping warmups, Jake."

Her voice was light, teasing, and I couldn't help but feel the familiar warmth that came from hearing her speak. It was the same voice I remembered from all those years growing up together, back when things were simpler. When it was just us and soccer and no one else in the picture.

Jake glanced down at her, a smirk on his face. "Come on, Isla. You know I'm always ready to play."

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes again, but there was a softness to it, like she was letting him get away with it. That annoyed me more than anything.

Before I could stop myself, I added, "Maybe you should care more about the team, Sutton. It's not just about you."

Jake's eyes flickered with irritation for a moment, but he quickly masked it with another grin. "Don't worry, Dwyers. I've got this."

I bit back a retort as Jake pulled Isla closer, his arm around her waist now, clearly enjoying the moment. My fists curled at my sides, but I forced myself to let it go. For now.

********

After practice, I headed toward the courtyard, still irritated by the morning's interaction. It wasn't like I had any right to be mad—Isla was free to date whoever she wanted. But Jake? He was a selfish player, both on and off the field. That didn't sit right with me, no matter how I tried to spin it.

I spotted Isla sitting on one of the benches, scrolling through her phone. Her expression was relaxed, the tension from earlier seemingly forgotten. Without thinking, I wandered over, dropping my bag next to her.

"Hey, Luna," I said, using the nickname I'd given her years ago, back when we were just kids. It stuck, mostly because of how much she loved the moon and another reason I've yet to tell her.

She looked up, a smile spreading across her face. "Hey yourself. How was practice?"

I shrugged, sitting down beside her.

"Same as always. Coach is all over Jake, praising him like he's the next Messi."

Isla laughed, shaking her head. "That doesn't surprise me. Jake's always been... confident."

"That's one way to put it," I muttered, glancing at her. "Doesn't it bother you?"

She raised an eyebrow, turning to face me fully. "Bother me? Why would it?"

I hesitated, unsure how to phrase what I was feeling.

"I don't know. He acts like he's the center of the universe, like no one else matters. I just don't get why you're with someone like that."

Isla's smile faltered for a moment before she sighed, leaning back against the bench.

"Jake isn't as bad as you think, Theo. He's... different with me. He can be sweet."

Sweet? That was news to me. "You sure we're talking about the same Jake?"

She nudged me with her elbow, her smile returning. "Yes, we are. You just don't see it."

I didn't respond, unsure what to say. The idea of Jake being "sweet" seemed impossible, but then again, I wasn't the one dating him. Isla was.

She shifted, her expression softening. "You've always been protective of me, haven't you?"

I blinked at her question, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she said, her voice quieter now. "Even when we were kids, you'd always stick up for me. Like that time I fell off my bike, and you wouldn't let anyone laugh."

A small smile tugged at my lips, the memory surfacing easily. "Yeah, well, you've always had a way of getting yourself into trouble."

Isla laughed, the sound light and carefree.

"I guess I have. But it's nice to know you're still looking out for me."

Something stirred in my chest, something unfamiliar. But I pushed it down, brushing off her words with a smirk.

"Someone has to."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. "Thanks, Theo. You're a good friend."

The word "friend" hit harder than I expected, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I leaned back and nodded.

"Always, Luna."

And that was the truth. Isla and I had always been friends, and that was how it was supposed to be.

*******

I found myself at Isla's house again, like I had so many times before. It was the kind of place that always felt like a second home—familiar and warm, with the scent of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen. Our parents had been close for years, so showing up unannounced wasn't out of the ordinary. In fact, it was expected.

As I stepped inside, the low murmur of conversation greeted me. Mum and Aunt Lily were huddled at the kitchen counter, mugs in hand, talking in the kind of hushed tones that only mothers used when they were discussing something they weren't sure they should be.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Mum teased, her eyes lifting from her cup as she gave me that knowing look. "You're late."

I shrugged, dropping my bag by the door and running a hand through my hair.

"Practice ran long."

Mum didn't look convinced. She raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with playful suspicion.

"Or maybe you just didn't want to deal with Jake's antics?"

Aunt Lily smiled sympathetically, her eyes softening.

"He's quite the handful, isn't he?"

That was the understatement of the century. I let out a long sigh and sank into one of the chairs, feeling the tension from the day begin to unwind.

"Tell me about it. The guy's impossible."

Mum exchanged a knowing glance with Aunt Lily, that silent communication they always had.

"Boys will be boys," Mum said, but there was something light and teasing in her voice, like she knew there was more to it than just 'boys being boys.'

"More like egos will be egos," I muttered, thinking about the way Jake strutted around, acting like everything revolved around him—including Isla. That was the part that grated at me the most.

Before the conversation could go any deeper, Isla came bounding into the kitchen, her eyes lit with excitement. She was practically buzzing with energy, and just seeing her like that made something tighten in my chest.

"Mum! The letters are here!" Her voice was breathless, and for a second, she looked like the Isla I used to know—the one who'd get excited over the smallest things, like we were still kids waiting for summer break. But this? This was different. This was Harrington.

Aunt Lily's face lit up, and she reached for the stack of mail sitting on the counter.

"Is this it?"

Isla nodded, her whole body bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, the excitement rolling off her in waves. It was contagious. For a split second, I could feel my own heart pick up speed, the anticipation creeping in.

"Isla, you're going to wear out the floorboards with all that pacing," I teased, trying to keep things light, but even I could feel the gravity of the moment.

Mum turned to me, her smile widening.

"Theo, you too. I saw your letter in there."

My breath hitched for a second as Isla grabbed her envelope first, tearing it open with a mix of excitement and nerves. Her eyes scanned the page, and I swear, time stood still. Then, a slow, stunned grin spread across her face.

"I got in," she whispered, her voice almost too soft for the room. And then louder, "I got in!"

The joy in her voice hit me like a wave, knocking down whatever walls I'd tried to put up. I couldn't help but smile, too. There was something about seeing Isla happy that always made things feel right.

I grabbed my own letter, ripping it open with a little less grace, and quickly scanned the contents. My grin matched hers before I could even process it fully.

"We're both in," I said, holding up the letter as if I needed proof. "We're going to Harrington."

Isla's eyes sparkled as they met mine, and before I could react, she was pulling out her phone. "I've got to call Dad! He's going to lose it!"

Aunt Lily smiled fondly, watching her daughter with the kind of pride that made me feel like I was intruding on a private moment. "Finn's going to be over the moon," she said, sharing a look with my mum. "You know how proud he is of her."

I watched Isla step out onto the patio, her face lighting up as she dialled her dad. Finn Brookes—the legendary soccer player turned coach—was going to be thrilled, no doubt about it. He'd always had a soft spot for Isla, and honestly, it wasn't hard to see why. She was everything you'd want in a daughter: driven, passionate, kind.

And as much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake the thought that I was proud of her, too. In a way I couldn't quite explain.

I turned back to the kitchen, but something about the way Isla laughed on the phone tugged at me. She looked so alive, so free, but there was this shadow hanging over her—one that looked a lot like Jake. It was hard not to think about him, the way he always seemed to be lurking in the background, pretending like he had it all figured out.

I knew better, though. I knew what kind of guy Jake really was. The way he treated people like they were there for his entertainment. And Isla? She deserved more than that.

But she didn't see it. Not yet.

I tore my gaze away from the patio and sighed, running a hand through my hair. It was becoming harder to ignore, this pull I felt whenever she was around. But what could I do? She was with Jake, and I was... her friend. That's what I'd always been, and maybe that's all I'd ever be.

Still, there was a part of me that knew—deep down—that we wouldn't just be friends forever. Not when everything in me screamed that we were headed for something more, something inevitable.