u/QwenLucy

Chapter 08: Here

At one point, James stood up. "I need to use the restroom."

 

Isabella and I were left alone talking. She was really enjoying this night out. Until shortly after, she excused herself to the restroom too.

 

Both of them took a little too long to return, until they finally returned to the table together. "We ran into each other in the hallway," was what they said.

 

This time it was my turn to go. When I passed near the women's restroom door to head to the men's further ahead, I heard two women leaving the restroom, talking.

 

"That was wild."

 

"Right, she brought the guy in there. Like, I know what kind of establishment we're in, but that was wild."

 

"Not gonna lie, I get it, I mean, a man like that."

 

"But giving a blowjob in the restroom stall seems a little too dirty, however."

 

The other girl nodded in agreement. My chest tightened-Isabella and James had been here just moments ago, it couldn't be... no, it isn't, I don't want to believe it is.

 

Back at table, while James and Isabella enjoyed their delicious dinner, Annie passed again to make sure everything was to their satisfaction.

 

"Everything alright, Mr. James?"

 

"Perfectly. It's delicious as always."

 

"I can see you're much more relaxed than before." She lingered on that word, relaxed, drawing it out like honey dripping from a spoon. "It seems our establishment is already proving useful to you."

 

"That, too, is delicious, as always."

 

James and Annie exchanged a smile, shameless and conspiratorial, the kind of smile shared between two people who clearly knew something I didn't. Was I imagining things? No, no, that couldn't be right. I was just being paranoid

 

After Annie left again, Isabella returned to her earlier game, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

"Did you enjoy your restroom break, Mister Relaxed?"

 

"Absolutely. It was excellent service in there," he replied with the confidence of a man paying a genuine compliment.

 

"I'm glad. Big men like you need constant relaxation-and quality relaxation at that," Isabella said, her tone making no attempt to hide its seductive edge.

 

"What kind of service do they provide in the restroom? When I went, it was just a normal restroom." I was trying harder to fool myself than to accept the obviousness of what they were implying.

 

"Ah, when a guy like you goes, that service isn't available," James said, needling me.

 

Isabella had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from losing her composure completely, laughter bubbling up behind her elegant fingers.

 

God, this hurt. This all hurt so much. Watching them together, watching him command the room, watching her fall deeper under his spell with every passing moment. My chest felt tight, my stomach twisted in knots I couldn't untie. I was losing her, moment by moment, smile by smile, and there was nothing I could do but sit there and watch it happen.

Chapter 08: Here

At one point, James stood up. "I need to use the restroom."

 

Isabella and I were left alone talking. She was really enjoying this night out. Until shortly after, she excused herself to the restroom too.

 

Both of them took a little too long to return, until they finally returned to the table together. "We ran into each other in the hallway," was what they said.

 

This time it was my turn to go. When I passed near the women's restroom door to head to the men's further ahead, I heard two women leaving the restroom, talking.

 

"That was wild."

 

"Right, she brought the guy in there. Like, I know what kind of establishment we're in, but that was wild."

 

"Not gonna lie, I get it, I mean, a man like that."

 

"But giving a blowjob in the restroom stall seems a little too dirty, however."

 

The other girl nodded in agreement. My chest tightened-Isabella and James had been here just moments ago, it couldn't be... no, it isn't, I don't want to believe it is.

 

Back at table, while James and Isabella enjoyed their delicious dinner, Annie passed again to make sure everything was to their satisfaction.

 

"Everything alright, Mr. James?"

 

"Perfectly. It's delicious as always."

 

"I can see you're much more relaxed than before." She lingered on that word, relaxed, drawing it out like honey dripping from a spoon. "It seems our establishment is already proving useful to you."

 

"That, too, is delicious, as always."

 

James and Annie exchanged a smile, shameless and conspiratorial, the kind of smile shared between two people who clearly knew something I didn't. Was I imagining things? No, no, that couldn't be right. I was just being paranoid

 

After Annie left again, Isabella returned to her earlier game, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

"Did you enjoy your restroom break, Mister Relaxed?"

 

"Absolutely. It was excellent service in there," he replied with the confidence of a man paying a genuine compliment.

 

"I'm glad. Big men like you need constant relaxation-and quality relaxation at that," Isabella said, her tone making no attempt to hide its seductive edge.

 

"What kind of service do they provide in the restroom? When I went, it was just a normal restroom." I was trying harder to fool myself than to accept the obviousness of what they were implying.

 

"Ah, when a guy like you goes, that service isn't available," James said, needling me.

 

Isabella had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from losing her composure completely, laughter bubbling up behind her elegant fingers.

 

God, this hurt. This all hurt so much. Watching them together, watching him command the room, watching her fall deeper under his spell with every passing moment. My chest felt tight, my stomach twisted in knots I couldn't untie. I was losing her, moment by moment, smile by smile, and there was nothing I could do but sit there and watch it happen.

Chapter 07: Here

That town was a little different, much smaller, yet somehow it seemed wealthier. Like, there were plenty of upscale establishments, but at the same time, you couldn't see many residential neighborhoods. Perhaps it was a small city built almost entirely for tourists.

James parked the car in the lot of an elegant restaurant, and when Isabella was about to step out, he immediately reached for her hand to help her out.

 

"What a gentleman, thank you." Isabella smiled.

 

"Hey..." I tried to make them realize that this was starting to go too far.

 

"Instead of complaining, you should be learning, peaboy." This time Isabella was more direct and aggressive than usual.

 

Then she kept walking, clinging to James's arm like some silly lovestruck teenager.

"Let's stop arguing and get inside," James said in a commanding tone, also more assertive than his already dominant usual demeanor.

 

The restaurant was a spectacle of opulent design, vaulted ceilings dripping with crystal chandeliers that cast warm, golden light across polished mahogany floors. The walls were lined with deep burgundy velvet panels and gilded mirrors that seemed to stretch the space into infinity. Each table was draped in crisp white linen, set with silver that caught the light like scattered jewels. Soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers, and the air carried notes of expensive perfume, aged wine, and something else, something electric, charged with unspoken promises.

 

A waitress approached our table, her movements fluid and practiced. She wore the establishment's "themed uniform" uniform: a modified French maid outfit in black satin with a dangerously short skirt that barely grazed her upper thighs, a corset cinched tight enough to sculpt her waist dramatically, white lace trim that drew the eye to her décolletage, and fishnet stockings that ended in stiletto heels. Her dark hair was pinned up elegantly, and her makeup was flawless—red lips, smoky eyes that held a knowing glint.

 

"Oh, Mister James?" The waitress seemed to know him.

 

"Hi Annie, how are you?"

 

"Amazing, it's been a while since you've shown your face around here."

 

"Yeah, I've been busy, traveling less."

 

"And these are?"

 

"I'm Isabella, I adore your thematic little outfit." Isabella's tone carried that subtle edge-an observation that was also a power play.

 

"Thank you, Ma'am, as Mr. James already said, my name is Annie. Is this your first time here?"

 

"Yes," Isabella replied. "James is showing us around town."

 

"You'll love it, this is where many dreams become reality, it's always an intense experience." She said that last part looking directly at me, which left me confused.

 

"Charming," Isabella answered with her usual elegance.

 

"This way, please, let me show you to a table."

 

As we walked toward our seats, I could observe the clientele's standard there were many beautiful women, clearly from a higher social class, and plenty of handsome men as well., the kind of men Isabella had once described as "alpha.". It actually hurt me that day, because I felt that alpha standard was so far from me.

 

In fact, that day she also mentioned a standard called "beta," and it hurt even more when I realized it had everything to do with me.

 

These men and women were impeccably dressed-the women in designer dresses that flowed like liquid silk, diamonds catching the light at their throats and wrists, their posture radiating effortless entitlement. The men wore tailored suits that cost more than my monthly salary, watches that gleamed with understated prestige, their shoulders broad and their gazes sharp with the confidence of conquerors. They emanated power and wealth.

 

But you could see some... hmm... betas seated as well. These had nervous hands, eyes that darted rather than commanded. There were some women in rather indecent outfits too, ranging from maids to bunny girls. These second-tier men and women all wore collars around their necks. They appeared to be made of metal, with some kind of device attached to them. I was almost afraid to imagine what those did.

I was sure I had spotted chastity cages on some of those supposed women, visible due to the short skirt length, which left me even more confused.

 

"It's here, please make yourselves comfortable," Annie said gently, looking at James and Isabella. "I'll bring the menus," she continued.

 

"This place is scaring me," I tried to tell Isabella, but she was categorical in shutting me down. "Nonsense. Just look at this place, so beautiful." She said, looking at the luxurious chandelier above our heads.

 

"And look at the waitresses, such cute little outfits. Besides all these beautiful girls, there are some little ones like you too." she told me, looking from the corner of her eye while laughing.

 

"What do you mean?" My question was promptly ignored as Annie arrived with two menus.

She handed one to James and one to Isabella, waiting patiently for them to order. I thought she had forgotten to bring me one, but her expression seemed too confident for someone who had made a mistake.

 

James ordered for himself and me. Looking around, I noticed that when there was a table with a more... assertive man-avoiding the alpha terminology-with a girl or collared beta, the man made all the orders. You could tell the waitresses were already accustomed to this dynamic. As if this were completely natural here.

 

"So, James," Isabella leaned in, her voice dropping to that intimate purr she used when she wanted something, "how long have you been coming to this charming little establishment?"

 

"On and off for years," James replied, his eyes scanning the room with the ease of someone who belonged in spaces like this. "It's one of the few places that understands... discretion."

 

"Discretion for what, exactly?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

 

Isabella's heel found my ankle under the table-not hard enough to injure, but firm enough to remind me of my place. "Peaboy, don't be tedious. We're having a lovely evening."

 

"She's right," James said, not unkindly, but with that finality that brooked no argument. "Enjoy the atmosphere. The food here is exceptional. The... entertainment even more so."

 

"What entertainment?" I pressed.

 

Annie returned at that moment, saving them from answering. "Have you decided, or would you like more time?"

 

"The lady will have the seafood risotto," James said smoothly. "I'll take the ribeye, rare. And the peaboy will have..." he paused, considering me with a gaze that made me feel thoroughly assessed and found wanting, "...the house salad. Simple. Light."

 

"Of course, sir." Annie didn't even look at me for confirmation. "Anything to drink?"

"A bottle of your best Pinot Noir. Two glasses."

"And for the...?" Annie gestured vaguely toward me.

"Water is sufficient," James decided.

"Very good, sir." Annie collected the menus and withdrew with that same fluid grace.

Chapter 07: Here

That town was a little different, much smaller, yet somehow it seemed wealthier. Like, there were plenty of upscale establishments, but at the same time, you couldn't see many residential neighborhoods. Perhaps it was a small city built almost entirely for tourists.

James parked the car in the lot of an elegant restaurant, and when Isabella was about to step out, he immediately reached for her hand to help her out.

 

"What a gentleman, thank you." Isabella smiled.

 

"Hey..." I tried to make them realize that this was starting to go too far.

 

"Instead of complaining, you should be learning, peaboy." This time Isabella was more direct and aggressive than usual.

 

Then she kept walking, clinging to James's arm like some silly lovestruck teenager.

"Let's stop arguing and get inside," James said in a commanding tone, also more assertive than his already dominant usual demeanor.

 

The restaurant was a spectacle of opulent design, vaulted ceilings dripping with crystal chandeliers that cast warm, golden light across polished mahogany floors. The walls were lined with deep burgundy velvet panels and gilded mirrors that seemed to stretch the space into infinity. Each table was draped in crisp white linen, set with silver that caught the light like scattered jewels. Soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers, and the air carried notes of expensive perfume, aged wine, and something else, something electric, charged with unspoken promises.

 

A waitress approached our table, her movements fluid and practiced. She wore the establishment's "themed uniform" uniform: a modified French maid outfit in black satin with a dangerously short skirt that barely grazed her upper thighs, a corset cinched tight enough to sculpt her waist dramatically, white lace trim that drew the eye to her décolletage, and fishnet stockings that ended in stiletto heels. Her dark hair was pinned up elegantly, and her makeup was flawless—red lips, smoky eyes that held a knowing glint.

 

"Oh, Mister James?" The waitress seemed to know him.

 

"Hi Annie, how are you?"

 

"Amazing, it's been a while since you've shown your face around here."

 

"Yeah, I've been busy, traveling less."

 

"And these are?"

 

"I'm Isabella, I adore your thematic little outfit." Isabella's tone carried that subtle edge-an observation that was also a power play.

 

"Thank you, Ma'am, as Mr. James already said, my name is Annie. Is this your first time here?"

 

"Yes," Isabella replied. "James is showing us around town."

 

"You'll love it, this is where many dreams become reality, it's always an intense experience." She said that last part looking directly at me, which left me confused.

 

"Charming," Isabella answered with her usual elegance.

 

"This way, please, let me show you to a table."

 

As we walked toward our seats, I could observe the clientele's standard there were many beautiful women, clearly from a higher social class, and plenty of handsome men as well., the kind of men Isabella had once described as "alpha.". It actually hurt me that day, because I felt that alpha standard was so far from me.

 

In fact, that day she also mentioned a standard called "beta," and it hurt even more when I realized it had everything to do with me.

 

These men and women were impeccably dressed-the women in designer dresses that flowed like liquid silk, diamonds catching the light at their throats and wrists, their posture radiating effortless entitlement. The men wore tailored suits that cost more than my monthly salary, watches that gleamed with understated prestige, their shoulders broad and their gazes sharp with the confidence of conquerors. They emanated power and wealth.

 

But you could see some... hmm... betas seated as well. These had nervous hands, eyes that darted rather than commanded. There were some women in rather indecent outfits too, ranging from maids to bunny girls. These second-tier men and women all wore collars around their necks. They appeared to be made of metal, with some kind of device attached to them. I was almost afraid to imagine what those did.

I was sure I had spotted chastity cages on some of those supposed women, visible due to the short skirt length, which left me even more confused.

 

"It's here, please make yourselves comfortable," Annie said gently, looking at James and Isabella. "I'll bring the menus," she continued.

 

"This place is scaring me," I tried to tell Isabella, but she was categorical in shutting me down. "Nonsense. Just look at this place, so beautiful." She said, looking at the luxurious chandelier above our heads.

 

"And look at the waitresses, such cute little outfits. Besides all these beautiful girls, there are some little ones like you too." she told me, looking from the corner of her eye while laughing.

 

"What do you mean?" My question was promptly ignored as Annie arrived with two menus.

She handed one to James and one to Isabella, waiting patiently for them to order. I thought she had forgotten to bring me one, but her expression seemed too confident for someone who had made a mistake.

 

James ordered for himself and me. Looking around, I noticed that when there was a table with a more... assertive man-avoiding the alpha terminology-with a girl or collared beta, the man made all the orders. You could tell the waitresses were already accustomed to this dynamic. As if this were completely natural here.

 

"So, James," Isabella leaned in, her voice dropping to that intimate purr she used when she wanted something, "how long have you been coming to this charming little establishment?"

 

"On and off for years," James replied, his eyes scanning the room with the ease of someone who belonged in spaces like this. "It's one of the few places that understands... discretion."

 

"Discretion for what, exactly?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

 

Isabella's heel found my ankle under the table-not hard enough to injure, but firm enough to remind me of my place. "Peaboy, don't be tedious. We're having a lovely evening."

 

"She's right," James said, not unkindly, but with that finality that brooked no argument. "Enjoy the atmosphere. The food here is exceptional. The... entertainment even more so."

 

"What entertainment?" I pressed.

 

Annie returned at that moment, saving them from answering. "Have you decided, or would you like more time?"

 

"The lady will have the seafood risotto," James said smoothly. "I'll take the ribeye, rare. And the peaboy will have..." he paused, considering me with a gaze that made me feel thoroughly assessed and found wanting, "...the house salad. Simple. Light."

 

"Of course, sir." Annie didn't even look at me for confirmation. "Anything to drink?"

"A bottle of your best Pinot Noir. Two glasses."

"And for the...?" Annie gestured vaguely toward me.

"Water is sufficient," James decided.

"Very good, sir." Annie collected the menus and withdrew with that same fluid grace.

Chapter 06: Here

 

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon when James finally suggested that we clean up before dinner. The mixed showers were located near the exit, a row of open stalls separated by tiled walls, with lukewarm water that did little to wash away the chlorine. I followed Isabella and James toward the far end, where the water pressure was strongest, and found myself frozen in place.

Isabella stood beneath the stream, and I couldn't look away. The golden bikini that had already caught my attention when it was dry now clung to every curve of her body as though it had been painted onto her skin. Water cascaded down her neck, tracing the valley between her breasts, following the defined line of her abdomen and pooling in the hollow above her navel before continuing down her thighs. Every droplet touching her tanned skin felt like a personal provocation, and beneath my wet shorts, the cage tightened with a cruelty that only intensified the longer I watched her.

Beside her, James stood under the adjacent shower, and it was impossible not to notice that several women nearby had stopped their conversations to look at him. I hadn't realized the male body could have so much definition. His broad shoulders, veined arms, perfectly defined abdominal muscles, and those V-lines disappearing into his waistband all seemed exaggerated by the water running down his body. It streamed over his chest, arms, and stomach, highlighting every contour as if he were a Greek statue that had somehow decided to take a shower among ordinary mortals. Standing next to him, I felt like a walking skeleton.

The comments reached me from across the tiled space.

"Is she with both of them at the same time? What an uneven pair."

"No, I don't think so. The skinny guy must be friend-zoned. There's no way her husband isn't that hottie," another voice replied.

"Or he could be a servant. That's a thing now, right? Like taking a beta and making him your personal maid, I think?" The tone was doubtful, as though the speaker were repeating a trend they had only recently heard about. The conversation terrified me.

Fortunately, the side walls of the shower allowed me to position myself with my back to the room and keep anyone from seeing the cage through my wet shorts. I pressed my back against the cold tile and let the water run over me while Isabella and James continued laughing and talking as though they were completely alone.

After we changed, we went to dinner. James insisted on a restaurant in the neighboring city because, according to him, it was "more fun."

When we went to rent a car, James immediately took the driver's seat. Isabella sat in the front beside him and looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to get into the back.

"It's only natural that James drives, sweetie. Remember, he knows the area very well," she said, preempting any complaint I might have made.

"But why did you sit next to him so quickly?" I still managed to find something to complain about.

"Oh, do you want to sit next to James? Seems like nostalgia for your school days is hitting you a little late," she replied, always managing to find a way to provoke me.

"Of course not..." I said sulkily.

"Then what? Do you want both of us to sit in the back? That would make James look like an Uber. Can you imagine the scene? Him driving and the two of us cuddling in the back seat? That would be disrespectful to Mr. Driver here."

She said it with an innocent smile, as though she had just presented the most reasonable solution in the world. I knew better than to argue, because any attempt to defend myself would only give her another opportunity to tease me.

I got into the back seat.

She then spent the entire ride talking to James as though I wasn't even there, while Isabella laughed at nearly everything he said. I sat in the back, watching the backs of their heads and listening to her laughter, increasingly feeling like an intruder in my own marriage.

At one point, while shifting gears, James casually rested his hand on her thigh. She didn't object or even seem to notice anything unusual about it, continuing with her story while smiling at him as though nothing had happened.

I hated myself for not having the courage to say anything. Instead, I remained in the back seat while the pressure of the cage became a constant, humiliating ache, sinking deeper into the feeling that I was invisible while the two of them enjoyed themselves in the front.

Chapter 06: Here

 

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon when James finally suggested that we clean up before dinner. The mixed showers were located near the exit, a row of open stalls separated by tiled walls, with lukewarm water that did little to wash away the chlorine. I followed Isabella and James toward the far end, where the water pressure was strongest, and found myself frozen in place.

Isabella stood beneath the stream, and I couldn't look away. The golden bikini that had already caught my attention when it was dry now clung to every curve of her body as though it had been painted onto her skin. Water cascaded down her neck, tracing the valley between her breasts, following the defined line of her abdomen and pooling in the hollow above her navel before continuing down her thighs. Every droplet touching her tanned skin felt like a personal provocation, and beneath my wet shorts, the cage tightened with a cruelty that only intensified the longer I watched her.

Beside her, James stood under the adjacent shower, and it was impossible not to notice that several women nearby had stopped their conversations to look at him. I hadn't realized the male body could have so much definition. His broad shoulders, veined arms, perfectly defined abdominal muscles, and those V-lines disappearing into his waistband all seemed exaggerated by the water running down his body. It streamed over his chest, arms, and stomach, highlighting every contour as if he were a Greek statue that had somehow decided to take a shower among ordinary mortals. Standing next to him, I felt like a walking skeleton.

The comments reached me from across the tiled space.

"Is she with both of them at the same time? What an uneven pair."

"No, I don't think so. The skinny guy must be friend-zoned. There's no way her husband isn't that hottie," another voice replied.

"Or he could be a servant. That's a thing now, right? Like taking a beta and making him your personal maid, I think?" The tone was doubtful, as though the speaker were repeating a trend they had only recently heard about. The conversation terrified me.

Fortunately, the side walls of the shower allowed me to position myself with my back to the room and keep anyone from seeing the cage through my wet shorts. I pressed my back against the cold tile and let the water run over me while Isabella and James continued laughing and talking as though they were completely alone.

After we changed, we went to dinner. James insisted on a restaurant in the neighboring city because, according to him, it was "more fun."

When we went to rent a car, James immediately took the driver's seat. Isabella sat in the front beside him and looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to get into the back.

"It's only natural that James drives, sweetie. Remember, he knows the area very well," she said, preempting any complaint I might have made.

"But why did you sit next to him so quickly?" I still managed to find something to complain about.

"Oh, do you want to sit next to James? Seems like nostalgia for your school days is hitting you a little late," she replied, always managing to find a way to provoke me.

"Of course not..." I said sulkily.

"Then what? Do you want both of us to sit in the back? That would make James look like an Uber. Can you imagine the scene? Him driving and the two of us cuddling in the back seat? That would be disrespectful to Mr. Driver here."

She said it with an innocent smile, as though she had just presented the most reasonable solution in the world. I knew better than to argue, because any attempt to defend myself would only give her another opportunity to tease me.

I got into the back seat.

She then spent the entire ride talking to James as though I wasn't even there, while Isabella laughed at nearly everything he said. I sat in the back, watching the backs of their heads and listening to her laughter, increasingly feeling like an intruder in my own marriage.

At one point, while shifting gears, James casually rested his hand on her thigh. She didn't object or even seem to notice anything unusual about it, continuing with her story while smiling at him as though nothing had happened.

I hated myself for not having the courage to say anything. Instead, I remained in the back seat while the pressure of the cage became a constant, humiliating ache, sinking deeper into the feeling that I was invisible while the two of them enjoyed themselves in the front.

Chapter 05: Here

The noon sun beat down on the water park parking lot, turning the asphalt into a shimmering expanse of heat. James was already at the entrance, tank top stretched across his shoulders, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, talking to a security guard like they were old college friends.

 

Isabella broke into a run for the last twenty meters. Left me behind with the beach bag, the sunscreen, the flip-flops, and the backpack with towels.

 

"James!" Her voice sounded different. Lighter. Younger.

 

He turned, easy smile spreading, and opened his arms. Isabella walked into the embrace like she belonged there. When I finally arrived, sweating, breathing hard, James didn't even glance at me.

 

The guard opened a side door. We entered through the "VIP entrance," no line, no wait. Isabella looked at James like he'd invented water.

 

"I didn't know you had connections here," Isabella said.

 

"I dated the resort owner's daughter a few years back. Lot of the same staff still work here, and Mike's an old college friend." James clapped the guard on the shoulder.

 

"Wow, quite the ladykiller, aren't you?" The irony in her tone barely concealed the flirtation underneath

 

We walked past the main pool toward the lazy river entrance. A double tube sat at the launch point, wide enough for two.

 

Isabella was already seated in front, patting the space behind her. "Come on, James. I'll steer."

 

"No, no." He grinned, that predator's grin. "I steer from behind."

 

"Why are you going together?" The question came out of me before I could realise it.

 

"It's a lazy river, not a marriage contract. Relax." Isabella said already leaning back into position, already comfortable with the arrangement.

 

I stood there with the bags cutting into my shoulders while James settled in behind her, arms reaching around to grip the sides, Isabella leaned back against him, head almost on his shoulder, and laughed at something he whispered.

 

I was directed to a single tube. Basic. Functional. Alone.

 

The current took us. I followed, always those few meters behind, watching their backs disappear around the bends. Hearing her laugh, genuine and loud, echoing off the painted concrete walls. In the shallows, I could see James's hands adjusting Isabella's position, pulling her closer. "For safety," I could hear, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

 

At the exit, Isabella reached for his hand as she stood up. She didn't need the assistance, she can stand herself, but she took his hand anyway.

 

"Next," she said. Not a question.

 

The Tornado had a twenty-minute line snaking through the plaza. The college friend, Mike, led us through an emergency exit, metal stairs climbing to the launch platform. Isabella's eyes widened with each step, not from the height, from the access.

 

"You know everyone," she said, and it wasn't just observation. It was appreciation. Admiration.

 

"Useful skill," James said, like it was nothing. Like he hadn't engineered this moment, her reaction, the way she looked at him now.

 

At the top, Isabella peered down. The slide was steep, dark, water churning at the entrance.

 

"I don't know..." Her voice came out hesitant, but her eyes found James's with something that looked like challenge.

 

"Scared?" He smiled.

 

"A little."

 

"Hold on to me." He extended his hand. "I'll protect you."

 

She put her hand in his, let him pull her toward the double tube. Seated in front, him behind, arms around her before they even launched.

 

I stood on the platform. Watching.

 

"What about Peaboy?" Isabella asked, already settled, already smiling.

 

James didn't look at me. "He can't handle these things. Stay here, Peaboy. Hold the stuff."

 

The frustration was a physical thing, a pressure behind my sternum. I was meant to be on this vacation with her. I was meant to be the one she reached for, held onto, laughed with. Instead I stood alone holding beach bags while she descended into darkness with my high school bully, her screams of delight already echoing back up the tube before I'd even processed the abandonment.

 

They emerged at the bottom. Isabella was breathless, wet hair plastered to her face, makeup somehow still perfect. James climbed out first, extended his hand. She took it, let him pull her up, and didn't release his hand immediately.

 

"Again," she scream.

 

They went. Without asking, without warning, making their own plans while I watched from above.

 

The wave pool stretched out like an artificial ocean, mechanical waves rolling every fifteen minutes. James and Isabella waded to the deep end, where the waves br oke strongest. I stayed at the edge, water to my waist, where the waves were weakest, watching James "teach" Isabella to ride them. Hands on her waist, adjusting her stance. Her pretending not to understand, him repeating the lesson, touching more than necessary.

 

A wave came. Isabella stumbled, fell on purpose or not, and James caught her. Arms around her, she laughing, wet, against him.

 

I was so absorbed in the performance that I didn't see the next wave until it crashed over me. The sound of their laughter reached me underwater. When I surfaced, coughing, salt and chlorine burning my throat, James was pointing. Isabella covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes were laughing.

 

"Peaboy can't swim?" James asked, voice loaded with false concern.

 

"He can," Isabella said, still laughing. "He just can't stand up."

 

They laughed together. Another wave knocked me down. This time I didn't try to get up immediately. I stayed under, listening to the muffled sound of the world above, until my lungs forced me to surface.

 

The snack bar shade brought physical relief, no emotional relief. James and Isabella sat on the wooden bench, thighs touching. They sent me to the nearby market stall.

 

"Water," Isabella said, not looking at me.

 

"Snacks," James added, half-laughing at my face.

 

I went. When I returned, carrying bottles and wrapped sandwiches, I found them like this: Isabella reclined against James's shoulder, looking at his phone, laughing at something on the screen. His arm around her, one hand holding the phone, the other resting on her waist.

 

"What are you looking at?" My voice came out louder than intended.

 

Isabella finally looked at me. "Photos. James took some on the slide and the river."

 

"Two days of photos," James said, scrolling. "The aquarium yesterday, today here. You look incredible."

 

Isabella laughed, swatted his arm. "Stop."

 

"It's true. Look at this."

 

He showed her the screen. I saw from where I stood. Isabella at the lazy river exit, looking at the camera with that smile I recognized. The smile she used to give me. Now directed at James's lens, at James, while I was out of frame, holding bags.