Rolling her eyes, Jess moves into the bedroom and gets her duffle bag out from under the bed, “A cult?” Jessica pauses looking over to the blonde, “Sounds drastic, but glad to see you thinking ahead,” the tease was lighthearted as she continued to toss articles of clothing into the bag.
“Paris! I’ve never been before, so I’m really excited,”
As she tosses another pair of short into the bag, she pauses to assess what she really wants to bring and folds them into respective places. Isla’s tone, more than her words, garner her attention. “Yes, I think it was her birthday recently,” Turning to focus her on her, Jessica crosses her arms and arches her brow, “No, I’m not fucking with you, Isla. Why would I?”
“Still not convinced Ley didn’t join one, so not taking any chances with you,” the blonde laughed, heading over to kiss Jess lightly on the cheek before plopping down on the bed beside the suitcase. “Don’t take those, take the black ones, or that one skirt - ya know the flowy one that somehow still makes your ass look incredible?”
Paris. Paris and Leyla’s post and absence. And then there was Isla’s own little disappearing act, the injuries she’d brushed off still echoed across her face and ribs. Maybe the lies she’d pressed into Jess’s skin hadn’t been as sweet as she thought. Or maybe the other woman didn’t care, had grown tired of her as well. Isla’s eyes narrowed slightly at Jess’s crossed arms, her voice turning cruel.
“I know you aren’t stupid, Jess, you know exactly who the fuck she is and what she does,” Isla tucked her knees up under her, shifting on the bed to move just a bit further away before ruining everything. “Is this some thing to get back at Johnathan? By running to the fucking French?” There, she’d done it. Punctured the intimacy of this space with his name, flung out like a weapon. But she couldn’t stop. “Like, I get it - he was the fucking worst to you! But maybe let’s not go play with Marie Antoinette when her minions actively want to fucking kill me.”
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stormborns
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