Steel Ocean

Jolyne wasn't mad.

Not at all.

It wasn't like her stomach twisted every time she saw Isabella with another inmate.

It wasn't like her jaw clenched every time she caught Isabella laughing with someone else, standing too close, flashing that smirk at someone who wasn't her.

And it definitely wasn't like she wanted to throw up every time Isabella locked lips with someone else.

Nope.

Not mad at all.

Jolyne's fists slammed into the punching bag with more force than necessary, the worn leather creaking under the impact.

Her knuckles ached, but she welcomed the distraction.

Because if she wasn't hitting something, she might actually have to acknowledge what was bothering her.

And that?

That was not happening. 

Jolyne wasn't stupid.

She knew exactly what Isabella was doing.

The glances. The casual touches with other inmates—too fleeting to be serious, but just long enough to be noticed.

The way she let people get close, then pulled away just enough to keep them wanting.

Isabella was playing a game.

And Jolyne knew the rules.

Flirting. Testing. Pushing buttons just to see who would crack first.

Normally, Jolyne wouldn't have cared.

Except, this time?

She did.

And she hated that.

The moment that finally set her off happened in the yard, in broad daylight, with half the damn prison watching.

Jolyne had already been pissed off—that was nothing new—but when she spotted Isabella pressed up against some brunette inmate, lips ghosting over theirs like she had all the time in the world...

Something in her just snapped.

Before she could even think about it, she was marching across the yard, ignoring the catcalling from some of the guys nearby.

The moment Isabella noticed her coming, she smirked—like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And that?

That only made Jolyne even more pissed off.

Jolyne didn't bother with words at first.

She just grabbed Isabella's wrist, pulling her away from the group like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few inmates whistled or muttered comments, but Jolyne didn't give a damn.

Neither did Isabella.

If anything, she looked amused.

Which only made Jolyne push her harder against the nearest wall, ignoring the flicker of something sharp in Isabella's eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Bella?" Jolyne demanded, voice low, sharp, bordering on dangerous.

Isabella blinked, playing innocent.

"What, you don't like watching?"

Jolyne's blood boiled.

"Flirting with half the damn prison like some desperate tease?" she spat before she could stop herself.

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to go off.

And for a second—just a second—Jolyne saw something flash in Isabella's eyes.

Something dangerous.

Something that looked almost like hurt.

Then, the smirk returned.

Slow. Calculated.

"Oh?" Isabella murmured. "So that's what's bothering you."

Jolyne's fingers twitched against Isabella's wrist.

Because damn it, she had walked right into that one.

Isabella didn't move.

Didn't push back.

She just tilted her head, watching Jolyne with that same knowing expression—the one that made Jolyne feel like she was five moves behind in a game she didn't even know she was playing.

Then, Isabella leaned in.

Not much. Just enough that Jolyne could feel the heat of her breath against her cheek.

"Tell me, Cujoh," Isabella mused, voice smooth, almost mocking. "What part of it bothers you the most?"

Jolyne swallowed.

"Is it when I flirt?" Isabella continued, her tone almost casual.

"Or is it when I kiss them?"

Jolyne's jaw tightened.

"Or maybe," Isabella murmured, her lips dangerously close to Jolyne's ear, "it's the fact that it's not you."

Jolyne's body reacted before her brain could catch up.

She shoved Isabella back, stepping away like she'd been burned.

Her heart was pounding.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Isabella laughed.

Not mean, not mocking—just pleased.

Because she knew.

She knew.

And Jolyne?

Jolyne hated that she was right.

That night, after hours of pacing, stewing, and failing to distract herself, Jolyne found herself outside in the yard again.

And, of course, Isabella was already there.

Standing near the chain-link fence, arms crossed, looking as composed as ever.

Like nothing had happened.

Like Jolyne hadn't spent the entire damn day unraveling.

That was it.

She was done.

Jolyne marched straight over, cutting the distance between them without hesitation.

"Alright, what's your problem lately?" she snapped.

Isabella's shoulders tensed.

Not much. Barely noticeable.

But Jolyne caught it.

She always caught it.

Isabella exhaled slowly.

Then, finally—without looking away from the fence—

"Nothing."

Jolyne's eyes narrowed.

Bullshit.

"That's not an answer."

Isabella let out a slow, even breath.

"You seem like you've got plenty of attention already."

Jolyne froze.

Her frustration cracked open into something else.

"...You're joking."

Isabella finally turned to face her, arms still crossed, unreadable expression firmly in place.

"You and Anasui seem close. I figured you didn't need me around."

Jolyne stared.

Then, without meaning to—without thinking—she laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was so fucking ridiculous.

Jolyne dragged a hand down her face, shaking her head.

"For fuck's sake—" she snapped. "I don't even like that guy! He's an overconfident creep with a savior complex. And now you're—what? Sulking? Because you think I'd actually put up with his bullshit?"

Isabella's expression didn't change.

That pissed Jolyne off even more.

"Oh, for fuck's sake—" Jolyne snapped. "I don't get you. You act like I don't exist, and then you pull this? What do you want from me?"

Silence.

Then, Isabella finally murmured—

"...I wasn't sure you noticed."

Jolyne felt something tighten in her chest.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Then, voice low, quieter now—

"Well, I did."

And for once, Isabella didn't have a comeback.

They just stood there.

Too close.

Too much unsaid.

And neither of them moved away