She's like no one Scott's ever met before and he's met a lot of people. She's snarky but sweet, she has infinite levels of egoism but at times she's fragile beyond belief. Her eyes are wide and round, coloured a dreamy aquamarine with long pink lips, sweet like cotton candy. Her names Isabelle Lahey and Scott thinks she may just be it for him.
They meet at a house party because he's actually invited to them now go figure. She's sitting on her own by the pool, eyes downcast as she runs her finger over the rim of her red cup. Her blue nail varnish is chipped and every so often her finger falls away from the rim of the cup. Judging by her coordination Scott would guess she's had one too many to drink. What strikes him though is that no one's talking to her, they aren't even acknowledging her. A drunken couple who are showing way too much PDA beside her almost knock her over into the pool and still no one chances a glance her way. Scott's kind of glad for it because he doesn't want anyone else to be looking at her. Just him.
She looks up and catches Scott's eye, flinching back slightly in surprise and Scott flushes hotly because how long exactly has he been watching her? He does the only thing his panicked addled brain provides which is to grin dumbly and wave enthusiastically–you'd think his smile looked murderous and his wave a bit too enthusiastic with the way she looks back at him. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow but Scott sees her fingers twitching and eventually she gives a small wave back.
It's invitation enough and Scott bounds over and trips, beer sloshing over the edge of his cup and onto his knuckles. He thinks he's pretty much ready to die of mortification when he sees a napkin appear in his line of vision. He looks up from chipped nail varnish and long slim fingers to Isabelle's face.
She smiles.
He takes the napkin.
/
It's not a date she tells him. Except it totally is. And maybe Scott picks her up on his bike but whatever. That's just semantics right? He doesn't need to pick her up in a car. It makes it funnier with the bike, she makes Scott pedal up a hill and she stands on the pegs on his bike as they roll down it. Scott looks over his shoulder at her as she laughs, the wind blowing through her hair and maybe he should have been looking at the path instead because he loses control of the bike and they crash into a bush.
He scrapes his palms and the side of his face but he cushions the blow for Izzy who crashes into him from behind so it wasn't a complete disaster. His front tyre is twisted around so he has to walk his bike around for the rest of the outing – date– semantics remember?
He's walking with a little bit of a limp but when they pass someone's front yard Scott quickly picks a Gerbera out of their flower beds and hands it to Izzy, the stem caked in soil. She smiles, that small quirk of her mouth before she slips her hand into Scott's.
When he walks her to her front door she places a chaste kiss onto the graze on Scott's cheek. He stares dumbfounded long after she's disappeared into her house. And maybe he's still grinning when he gets home, with a scratched up face and a busted bike the only thing breaking him out of his pleasant reverie his mum squawking about calling the police and demanding to know who mugged her sweet baby boy.
/
Scott's totally prepared for this, absolutely, one hundred percent, no one could be anymore ready for this than Scott McCall is.
Izzy lifts her top over her head and once it's thrown away her hair bounces down, light brown locks curling around her bra straps. And her bra, god her bra. Scott definitely has a thing for black lace, especially when that black lace is currently cupping his girlfriend's breasts exquisitely. Scott blushes. He's so not prepared for this.
"Scott?" She questions small and wondering and Scott nods from where he's standing on the other side of the room hands laced in front of him clad only in a pair of Spiderman boxers.
So sex yeah. Sounds good in theory, not in actuality when their lying on the bed in their underwear, kissing, Izzy's long legs bracketing Scott's hips, pressed together so tight, close enough that Scott can feel everything, feel how warmshe is.
Their lips part and their left breathing into each other's mouths. Scott pushes down at the same time that Izzy pushes up and yeah he's not going to last, definitely not going to last with the sounds Izzy makes, desperate breathy small moans that push her chest up into his, his pecs pressing down into the soft mounds of her breasts.
She looks delicate and sweet, a thin shimmer of sweat lining her pointed nose. She arches up, eyes shut, mouth blindly reaching for his and Scott pauses to take in how beautiful she is when he hears his front door slam shut and his mum shout up the stairs that she's home.
Scott jumps away so quickly he trips and cracks his head onto the corner of his bedside dresser. He gets a lump the size of mount Kilimanjaro on the base of his skull. Izzy laughs about it for two whole weeks.
/
Their first argument is in a graveyard in the middle of the night. They'd been drinking and Izzy had wanted to see her mum and Scott didn't know she was dead so he doesn't know what to say or do when Izzy starts crying.
When he goes to hug her she pushes him away and Scott just wants to know what the hell Izzy wants from him because she's always pushing him away and the moment he starts to draw away too she reaches out for him again and Scott accepts that, accept it all because he just wants her to stop being sad.
"I can't Scott." She says quietly and Scott's so frustrated he shouts back.
"Can't what!"
"Be happy with her dead. I'm so happy with you and it makes me sick because I shouldn't be this happy when my mom is dead." And that is Izzy right there. Down to a T. She feels guilty about something that is entirely out of her control.
"What kind of a person does that make me Scott?" She asks, voice trembling and this time when Scott reaches for her she lets him.
"It makes you human Iz and I know right now over everything else your mum would want you to be happy. So don't you ever feel guilty about being happy again do you hear me?" Scott waits for her to make eye contact with him and nod before he pulls her closer, buries his nose in her hair and just breaths. She smells like lemons and rain water.
"I wish she was still here." Izzy says, words pressed against Scott's collarbone. Izzy breaths a laugh, small and breathy. "She would have loved you."
Scott thinks that if Izzy's mom was anything like Izzy he would have loved her too.
/
It's their six month anniversary when Scott rents a gramophone which costs him like three hundred bucks from the antique store on fifth street but it's worth it when he puts on the record and Dick Haymes It Had To Be You starts playing. It was Isabella's mom's favourite.
She looks disbelieving and wordlessly grateful and Scott blushes when he offers her his hand because yeah he's about to attempt some slow dancing. And if he practiced with his mom in the living room in his pyjamas on then nobody has to know. He just wanted to make sure this was special. And it is.
Her nose is pressed against the hollow of this throat and every so often Scott can feel the soft huffs of her breaths. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of it because suddenly it feels so intimate. He tightens his fingers around hers and listens to the soft sigh she lets out in response. They sway back and forth together, the music muffled through the gramophone.
"I love you."
He doesn't mean to say it, except he does. He means it, it's the most honest thing he's ever said but a thousand things scream at him once he's said it – it's too soon – she doesn't feel the same way- idiot, idiot, idiot.
Isabelle moves her head away from the warmth of his neck slowly until she's looking into his eyes. Their watery and she looks so insecure Scott just wants to tell her how special she is, how perfect.
She wraps a hand around the back of Scott's neck, elongated nails scratching at Scott's nape.
"Forever?" She asks and Scott swallows, presses their forehead's together.
"Always."
/