Isabella's pov

I walked into the living room and saw Julian stretched out on the couch, a bowl of chips balanced on his thigh, eyes fixed on whatever show was playing. He didn’t even glance my way. His dark curls were damp, like he’d just stepped out of the shower, and his lashes were still clumped with water. That alone did something to me, annoying and confusing.

I walked closer and cleared my throat.

“Ahem.”

“Ahem,” I tried again.

“I met with some officers today,” I said ...