Falling For The Delivery Girl

Chapter 4 : Lost Under The Surface

5.28pm
Wednesday
16th September 2009

Marc DeLuca stood there, framed at his door. His hair was tousled and his clothes wrinkled. Isla's jaw fell but she closed her mouth immediately when he scowled at them both.

Shocked as well, the blonde boy immediately released his grip of Isla, frowning. Silence fell as they all exchanged quick glances with each other. By the looks on their faces, Isla reckoned that both boys looked as though they know each other very well.

"What are you doing here?" the DeLuca boy scowled at Isla the same time when the fair-haired boy beside her said to Isla,"Do you know him?"

"I-uh," she said, feeling less sick out of the sudden. Isla looked down at her sneakers and tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt. She stole a glance at the scowling boy, shuddered and shifted her gaze towards the one who helped her. She nodded, feeling guilty for some unknown reason. "I have unfinished business with him," she murmured, jerking her head towards the DeLuca boy.

"Oh. Okay? You have unfinished business," the stranger said, smiling. The boy looked at Marc, earning a cold glare and turned back to look at Isla.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't she be okay?" Marc scowled, crossing his arms. He looked like he was about to rip people's head off. Seeing that the blonde boy ignored his friend, she did the same.

"Yeah, I think you should go," Isla said, managing a smile. "You're probably late for something because of me. Its my fault. I'm sorry."

"Oh, nevermind. I was just leaving to get some food, that's all. I'm a gentleman and its unlike of me to leave a girl standing drenched in the rain," the stranger boy replied, shrugging. One of his hands crawled into the pocket of his jeans and the other rubbing the back of his neck. Isla honestly had to admit that he was cute. And very nice.

"Walter, that wasn't what you told me," Marc interrupted, glaring. She saw him clenching his jaw. "What about my dad's insurance? I thought you said that you're going to help me with it."

"Oh, that can be settled tomorrow," the fair-haired guy said, running his hands through his hair. "The bank is now closed and I just received a call from the office that they're going to send a maintenance team to repair the machines. So there's no point going, Marc."

The DeLuca boy looked at Walter with utter disbelief and just let out frustrated sigh. The blonde boy shook his head and turned his attention to her instead.

"You complete your business with him, okay? Marc can be a jerk at times, I know. Actually, he is a jerk as long as he exists but don't let that bother you. Anyways, I'm Walter," he said, patting her shoulder lightly as though they were best friends. Mr. DeLuca just glared at him, pursing his lips in a thin line. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Isla. Thanks for helping," she said. Walter nodded and turned to leave after giving her a wink. She watched him walk back downstairs as he uttered something about stupid doorbells, deaf land ladies and cold showers. 

She heard someone clearing their throat and turned to face the blue-eyed DeLuca boy. Unlike Walter's, his were much bluer, like the sky in London which Isla had seen in her friend's postcards.

"You're drenched," he murmured as she scruntinized him. For a second, Isla thought she caught a glimpse a sympathy behind his cold demeanor.

"I'm drenched."

"Oh hell," the boy said, scanning her but Isla was too busy to even realise. "There's water dripping from you and you're staining the carpets."

"I'm staining the carpets."

"Stop repeating what I say."

"Am I?" she asked, still lost in his eyes. "Repeating what you say."

"God save my life," the DeLuca boy muttered, shaking his head. "Quickly settle whatever business you have with me or come another day. Or don't come again."

"Oh, okay. Wait," Isla said, mentally slapping herself. She searched for the piece of document needed to be signed and handed it to him "Here. Sign this and I won't bother you ever again." The boy snorted and snatched the papers from her. She pulled out a pen from her pocket and gave it to him.

"You better not," he said, flinching. Marc DeLuca scanned the document briefly and signed at the end of it. "There's a mistake. Its not from Mrs DeLuca but Miss Vivien. Take this and don't come again!" he said, slamming the document into her hands and quickly turning around.

"What?" she said. But he had already closed the door. Isla shook her head and decided to go against her will to leave. Instead, she knocked. And continued knocking when he didn't answer. "Mr. DeLuca, please do me a favor and open the door."

Silence.

"Hey, can you open the door please?"

Isla waited and heard him grunting.

"Do open the door."

The sound of footsteps came from behind the door. Then nothing.

"Idiot DeLuca open the bloody darn door!" Isla yelled, slamming her fist against the door before it flew open to reveal the furious boy.

"What the hell do you want?!" Marc said, clenching his fist. "And who do you think you're calling an idiot?"

"I-I-uh..no one. I just have a question," she murmured, suddenly feeling scared. Isla took a step back, suddenly regretting her actions.

"No, you don't," he scowled and was about the slam the door close again when she did something entirely wrong. Isla stuck her foot in between it and the frame. In that bewildered second, she screamed, fell onto the ground and began sobbing. Marc DeLuca, on the other hand, just stood there with his arms crossed. "You deserved it. No one asked you to do that, stupid girl."

"My instincts did," she fought back, looking up at him with tears streaming down her face. He frowned, wanting to reply back but decided against it.

"Go home, stupid girl," Marc muttered. "You're not wanted here so don't bother me. Again."

With that, he closed the door. Isla sat there for a few minutes, massaging her foot. She tried standing up and managed, using the wall as her support. She hobbled towards the stairs, taking one step at a time. Placing her hurted foot down slowly, she winced as she took a step down. Then another. Just as she was about to reach the banister, she lose her footing and toppled forward.

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