Play Along (Windy City Series Book 4)
Chapter 4

I don’t know why he’s looking at me like that.

But then again, I think he always looks at me like that.

My skin feels funny. Like it’s on fire, but I’m also cold.

I think I like when Isaiah looks at me.

These shoes are comfy.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” he says.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” The words feel silly. I don’t think my tongue is connected to my mouth.

What is he even talking about?

Oh, a wedding.

I need to pick a wedding date. That’s what my mother always told me.

My mother. She’s not very nice.

Connor always said I need to pick a wedding date too.

I didn’t like him enough to do that though.

But I think I can pick a wedding date now.

Tonight.

Isaiah is nice.

He’s handsome too.

Why did I always ignore him?

Because I knew he’d get me in trouble.

I’ve never been in trouble.

I follow the rules.

I was the perfect daughter.

Where did that get me?

Maybe if I would’ve gotten in trouble, my parents would have noticed me.

I want to get in trouble.

I want to date.

I can’t wait to date.

For the first time in my life, I get to date without thinking about marriage.

Marriage.

Isaiah shakes his head.

Wait, why did he start spinning?

“You’ll hate me in the morning.”

“I don’t see how that’s much different than how I feel about you now.”

I don’t hate him.

Not even a little bit.

Isaiah bites his bottom lip to hide a smile.

I think.

To be honest, he’s mostly a blurry figure who’s keeping me standing upright at the moment.

I take the cup from his hand and drink it back.

It’s water.

I think.

The water from the fountains is pretty.

Isaiah is pretty.

It’s just an arrangement.

Connor came from a wealthy family and so did I.

That was a business arrangement.

This is a revenge arrangement.

They’re practically the same thing.

That’s all marriage has ever been—an arrangement.

I can feel myself speaking.

I know Isaiah is responding.

He smirks down at me, and that little birthmark by his right eye gets lost between his smile lines.

I want to lick it.

But my tongue isn’t connected to my mouth right now so instead I reach up and touch it.

“Fuck,” I hear him exhale, and the surrender in his tone is the only thing that’s clear right now.

I take his hand.

His hand is big.

I’ve worked on his hands, but I’ve never touched him outside of work before.

I never touch anyone unless I’m working.

No one has really ever touched me.

I like Isaiah’s hand.

I like his smile too.

I’ll never tell him that.

“Are you sure?” Isaiah’s voice rings out somewhere around me.

Of course I’m sure I’ll never tell him I like his smile.

The air blowing against my legs changes.

It’s warmer now.

My arms are already warm.

Isaiah bought me a jacket.

That was so nice of him.

How did I never realize he was so nice?

And cute.

I wasn’t allowed to realize.

He’s so different from me. From how I grew up.

He’s warm.

I’m cold.

This jacket is warm.

The pen in my hand is heavy.

I sign my name on a line. Three lines, and they’re all moving.

“Kenny, are you positive you want to do this?”

I like when he calls me Kenny.

I’ll never tell him that.

“What song do you want to walk to?” It’s a different voice. Not Isaiah’s.

Walk to? Walk out to?

Isaiah walks out to a song when he’s up to bat.

He looks really good in his uniform.

I’ll never tell him that.

Mariah Carey.

Isaiah sang a Mariah Carey song tonight. He was pretty good.

“Obsessed.”

I think I might be obsessed. Why do I keep thinking about him?

Isaiah laughs.

I laugh because he laughed.

My new shoes are so cute. I watch my feet as I take one step then another step on a red carpet runner.

Isaiah looks happy.

I feel happy.

“I do.” I do feel happy.

My head feels heavy, so I rest it against Isaiah’s chest.

His arm feels heavy around my waist.

It’s cold outside again.

I bury my face into him.

The sun is bright.

Isaiah is bright.

Yellow.

I bet his favorite color is yellow.

Yellow is such a weird word.

The flash from a camera is yellow.

“I married the girl I’ve been obsessed with for years.”

Obsessed is a weird word too.

I’m obsessed with how soft this pillow is.

My new shoes are so cute.

Isaiah is so cute too.

I’ll never tell him that.