She Does in Fact Care

Victoria did not like this.

She didn't like hanging around Isabelle's porch, one foot drumming relentlessly against frigid concrete, arms crossed tightly against the snapping evening wind. The wind was biting, slicing through her coat as if with purpose, and she could feel her skin trembling with goose bumps. The cold seeped into her bones and told her, with each second passing, that she should not have ventured out, where it was cold and unprotected. She should have been doing something—anything—than killing time and using fuel.

And yet, there she was, standing on Isabelle's front porch, knowing that Isabelle was surely more than fine. No, scratch that—she was finer than fine. She was probably basking in the delight of Victoria appearing on her doorstep, bedraggled and outraged, for some twisted sense of responsibility or duty. But still, Victoria was present. On the verge of despising herself for putting herself through this.

Worst of all, she resented Isabelle being correct. For goodness' sake, why did she have to be right all the time?

The door creaked open, and there she was, in the doorway with that infuriating half-smile she always wore, her eyes too easily, half-squinting as if the entire situation was a joke. The smug little smile expanded even further when she spotted Victoria, and she leaned forward just far enough to tease.

"See you!" Isabelle's voice shouted, too loud and too arrogant, her attitude sloppy, arms crossed and planted firmly on hips. "I knew you were into me. For real."

Victoria's jaw clenched, frustration building up inside her as she glared at her, wanting to burn a hole right through her with her eyes. "Don't try to inflate yourself."

Isabelle didn't bat an eyelid. She simply arched an eyebrow, her smile growing wider as if she was relishing the victory. "Oh, come on. You couldn't make it through one shift without me?"

Victoria's tone dropped, nastier than she'd meant, biting with a sting she couldn't retract. "You didn't show."

Isabelle blinked slowly, drawing out the silence between them like a cat toying with its victim, enjoying every second of it. "Yeah. I know."

A tide of frustration rose over her, and Victoria rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose as if to ward off the increasing tension. The nerve. "You always seem to be where you're meant to be."

"Not when I'm told not to," Isabelle replied, sounding far too amused for someone who'd clearly won the moment. She leaned back in the doorframe with a casualness that only made her more annoying. "I was obeying orders, remember?"

Victoria's breath caught in her throat, her jaw clenching tighter, the words on the tip of her tongue. "You're so damn infuriating."

"And yet here you are," Isabelle teased, still reluctant smile leaving, her sneering tone full of contempt. "Summoning me." She shifted her head just a little further back, thoroughly enjoying the melodrama. "Do come in?"

Victoria's pride howled for her to leave, to storm out into the darkness and flee from Isabelle's madness. She could spin on a dime, stalk back to her vehicle, and play this never happened—but that would be a loss, and she wasn't going to let Isabelle have the win of that. Not without a fight.

She took a breath, stepped inside, fury running in the coils of her stomach. The door shut with triumphant finality behind her, and she wished for an instant that she had stuck to the right side of affairs. The house itself, though, was utterly commonplace.

It was all the same. None of the chaos, none of the suggestion of breakdown—only the distant whine of a TV and the usual, fractured trash of Isabelle's life. A coffee table with a laptop top open upon it, its screen lit up with an unsaved word document. The room itself, naturally, a just-barely-contained mess. It was normal. Normal and completely unexceptional, which did nothing to still the churning anxiety in Victoria's stomach.

She was a fool. An absolute fool.

Isabelle sprawled across the couch with that irritating ease, one arm slung carelessly over the back, her posture as relaxed as ever. She looked up at Victoria with those eyes—mischievous, unbothered, and somehow still full of that unshakeable confidence. "So? You've eliminated my death and premature conception. Much better now?"

Victoria glared back at her, poisonously, and crossed her arms over her chest. She scanned her eyes around the room once again, standing there as if waiting for something, anything, to give her some kind of purpose for being there.

Isabelle's smile did not waver, a sneer creased every corner of her mouth. "Terrific. You actually believed that something had occurred, didn't you?

Victoria seethed. She leapt to her feet and paced a couple of agitated steps, as though her motion could somehow dispel the aching discomfort from her belly. She slapped her arms against her, trying to shake it off, but it lingered, irritating and relentless. "I just—" She drew breath sharply. "You weren't there. It was wrong."

Isabelle hummed softly, her own smile shifting to mocking and adoring, and Victoria's heart skipped a beat. "That's kinda cute, Vic. In a 'you'll-never-own-up-to-it' kind of way."

Victoria's restraint snapped. She spun on her heel, her feet pounding towards the door, needing to put an end to this. "I should go."

Isabelle's footsteps caught up to her, soft and fluid, her smile still teasing and unyielding. "You should. But you won't."

Victoria turned about, her face aflame with indignation, ready to let loose a biting comeback. "I didn't come here to boost your puny ego."

"Oh, but it's such fun," Isabelle snapped angrily, acid dripping from her tone, her smile widening at the delight of having provoked Victoria.

Victoria lost no time. She slammed the door open with a rage that shook the night from it. The slap of the air struck her at once, the bite of winter on her cheeks, but it did not quench the fire of frustration burning in her. She marched to her car, her fists balled at her sides, her mind spinning.

But before she could reach the car, Isabelle's voice cut into the darkness, surprisingly soft.

"Hey, Vic."

Victoria froze, half-turning towards the house, her heart leaping as her eyes snapped back toward the house. Isabelle stood in the doorway, but it was different. The sneering grin was gone. Instead, there was something raw and genuine—something that cut a pang straight through Victoria's heart.

"Thanks for checking in."

The words hurt more than she'd expected, pushing something out of her, but she couldn't keep it from her face. She shot back at him, her voice heavy with sarcasm, trying to keep the vulnerability creeping into her chest at bay. "Don't get in the habit of it."

With that, she turned and nearly sprinted to her car, slapping the door shut and starting the engine. But as she pulled away, the truth of those last words hit her, gnawing at her from the inside out. There was an undertone in Isabelle's voice. Something she hadn't anticipated, and for the first time, Victoria wasn't so sure of her own certainty.