whom he'd been referring to. I'd met the Surrogate
Isaiah Manniless several times. Every time, Isaiah had leered at me
like he was as desperate to be with me as I'd been for water a few
minutes ago. The last time, the only time Jayden had been around,
he'd eyed me with that curled-lip smirk, and Jayden had gotten in
lots of trouble with Dad.
"I'm here because your father and President
Barone told me to wait here," Isaiah had informed me after he'd
scared me nearly to death when I'd run into him wandering
uninhibited and unannounced through my house.
I'd just returned from school and hadn't
expected anyone to be home. Finding him had been more than just a
little frightening. Once my racing heart had slowed, I'd walked
toward the kitchen. "Would you like to have a snack? I'm starving,"
I'd said over my shoulder.
He'd followed behind me and said,
"Sure."
I'd assumed that while I stepped into the
walk-in pantry to retrieve a snack meant to tide me over until
supper, Isaiah would wait where he'd been standing near the island.
Rather than do that, he'd followed me into the rather small pantry
and studied the options himself. I'd pretended to ignore him, but
his proximity made that nearly impossible.
"How about some pita chips and hummus?" I'd
finally asked.
When Isaiah didn't respond, I glanced back
at him. He was staring— leering —at
me, studying me much more intently than either of us had studied
our snack options.
"Do you know how pretty you are, Carlie?"
he'd asked.
Glancing away, I'd shrugged and tried my
best to act as though he and his question hadn't made me
uncomfortable.
"Pita chips and hummus it is," I'd sung,
grabbing the chips, attempting to squeeze my way out of the
pantry.
Isaiah had put his hand on the doorframe,
blocking my exit.
"You're the only Procreate girl I've ever
met who doesn't treat Surrogates like they're less than them," he'd
mumbled after leaning into my ear.
"I reserve the right to treat all assholes
as if they are less than me. Other than that, I don't believe
there's any difference between Procreates and Surrogates. We all
have hearts, souls, and the facilities to know and understand the
difference between right and wrong," I'd said, hoping honesty would
gain me passage out of the pantry.
"Yeah. That's what I mean. You treat St.
Romaine as if you actually consider him your equal."
I rolled my eyes. "Isaiah, I've seen you at
the ice cream parlor. You always have several girls hanging off
your arms and onto your every word."
"They see a pretty face they'd like to date…
maybe even roll around in the hay with a time or two. They don't
see me as a long-term option. You're not like them. St. Romaine is
one lucky son of a bitch," he'd whispered close enough to my ear
that I could feel the warmth of his breath.
Swallowing my fear, I'd pulled back and
said, "You do know Jayden, right? I'm not his equal because he has
no equal. My goal in life is to be half the person he is."
Isaiah closed what little distance there was
between. "He has an equal. It's me. There's nothing he can do that
I can't do better. The only thing he has that I don't have is you…
a Procreate who'd put his wellbeing before her own."
I'd put my hands on Isaiah's chest and said,
"I'm not here to debate who is the better fighter. I can tell you
that you seem to have the wrong impression about Jayden and me.
We're like brother and sister. Not boyfriend and girlfriend."
Isaiah put his hands over mine, imprisoning
them to his chest.
"That's all the better. He won't give a shit
if you and I hook up, and hook up is what I'd love to do with you,"
he'd said before leaning over and kissing me on the lips.
I'd been too shocked to move out of the way,
to stop the kiss, to do anything but stand frozen in my spot while
he'd kissed me thoroughly, sliding his hands around to my back and
pulling me into him.
One minute he'd been kissing me. The next
he'd been sprawled out on the kitchen floor, holding his bleeding
nose and
Isaiah Manniless several times. Every time, Isaiah had leered at me
like he was as desperate to be with me as I'd been for water a few
minutes ago. The last time, the only time Jayden had been around,
he'd eyed me with that curled-lip smirk, and Jayden had gotten in
lots of trouble with Dad.
"I'm here because your father and President
Barone told me to wait here," Isaiah had informed me after he'd
scared me nearly to death when I'd run into him wandering
uninhibited and unannounced through my house.
I'd just returned from school and hadn't
expected anyone to be home. Finding him had been more than just a
little frightening. Once my racing heart had slowed, I'd walked
toward the kitchen. "Would you like to have a snack? I'm starving,"
I'd said over my shoulder.
He'd followed behind me and said,
"Sure."
I'd assumed that while I stepped into the
walk-in pantry to retrieve a snack meant to tide me over until
supper, Isaiah would wait where he'd been standing near the island.
Rather than do that, he'd followed me into the rather small pantry
and studied the options himself. I'd pretended to ignore him, but
his proximity made that nearly impossible.
"How about some pita chips and hummus?" I'd
finally asked.
When Isaiah didn't respond, I glanced back
at him. He was staring— leering —at
me, studying me much more intently than either of us had studied
our snack options.
"Do you know how pretty you are, Carlie?"
he'd asked.
Glancing away, I'd shrugged and tried my
best to act as though he and his question hadn't made me
uncomfortable.
"Pita chips and hummus it is," I'd sung,
grabbing the chips, attempting to squeeze my way out of the
pantry.
Isaiah had put his hand on the doorframe,
blocking my exit.
"You're the only Procreate girl I've ever
met who doesn't treat Surrogates like they're less than them," he'd
mumbled after leaning into my ear.
"I reserve the right to treat all assholes
as if they are less than me. Other than that, I don't believe
there's any difference between Procreates and Surrogates. We all
have hearts, souls, and the facilities to know and understand the
difference between right and wrong," I'd said, hoping honesty would
gain me passage out of the pantry.
"Yeah. That's what I mean. You treat St.
Romaine as if you actually consider him your equal."
I rolled my eyes. "Isaiah, I've seen you at
the ice cream parlor. You always have several girls hanging off
your arms and onto your every word."
"They see a pretty face they'd like to date…
maybe even roll around in the hay with a time or two. They don't
see me as a long-term option. You're not like them. St. Romaine is
one lucky son of a bitch," he'd whispered close enough to my ear
that I could feel the warmth of his breath.
Swallowing my fear, I'd pulled back and
said, "You do know Jayden, right? I'm not his equal because he has
no equal. My goal in life is to be half the person he is."
Isaiah closed what little distance there was
between. "He has an equal. It's me. There's nothing he can do that
I can't do better. The only thing he has that I don't have is you…
a Procreate who'd put his wellbeing before her own."
I'd put my hands on Isaiah's chest and said,
"I'm not here to debate who is the better fighter. I can tell you
that you seem to have the wrong impression about Jayden and me.
We're like brother and sister. Not boyfriend and girlfriend."
Isaiah put his hands over mine, imprisoning
them to his chest.
"That's all the better. He won't give a shit
if you and I hook up, and hook up is what I'd love to do with you,"
he'd said before leaning over and kissing me on the lips.
I'd been too shocked to move out of the way,
to stop the kiss, to do anything but stand frozen in my spot while
he'd kissed me thoroughly, sliding his hands around to my back and
pulling me into him.
One minute he'd been kissing me. The next
he'd been sprawled out on the kitchen floor, holding his bleeding
nose and
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