♣ ♣ ♣
I S L A
"THIS IS LITERALLY your third coffee of the morning," Nora says as Isla plops down onto the seat beside her.
"Yes, and?"
Nora's brows raise, astonishment flickering in her gaze. "You're in a bad mood today. Care to explain why?"
Taking a sip of her beverage, Isla closes her eyes whilst letting the bitter taste of coffee consume her system. She then puts a thigh atop the other, leaning back into her chair whilst burying her free hand into the pocket of her wool cardigan.
She lifts a finger up, foam cup still in her grasp, and huffs. "First of all, I'm hungover. Second of all, I don't want to be here."
"No one forced you to come to the game," Nora snaps.
"Luca did," Isla grumbles. "Stupid hockey games."
"You used to love them," the blonde seated next to her whispers, melancholy vibrating in her dulcet timbre.
"Used to," Isla repeats quietly, avoiding her sister's stare. "I'm just here because he dragged me out of bed."
"No," Nora corrects, "It's because it's one of his most important games of the season and you never show support."
Isla doesn't reply. She knows Nora is right—she always fucking is. Isla doesn't even remember the last time she was sitting behind the penalty box or tapping onto the glass whilst yelling at Luca to block the puck.
It's been too long since she has felt the coolness of the arena swirl along the outline of her jawline. She hasn't heard the sounds of skates scrape and blades glide across the ice in years. Rubber pucks whizz through the air after being slapped by composite sticks. Players float around; some stretching out, some warming their skates by glissading around the rink, others firing shots at their goalies—who, in this case, is Luca Presley.
A wave of nostalgia pushes at her heart, and she doesn't look up when she feels her brother's gaze upon her.
"What's with you and spending the night home, anyway?" Nora asks, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
That's also something she has missed—the smell of buttery popcorn, the loud chatter echoing which she can't quite decipher despite it being all around, the cheers of the crowd when their favoured team enters the rink.
"The house was closer than the campus," Isla states blandly.
She simply did not want to go back to her dorm and face Emilia in the morning. What a shit stunt she pulled last night.
She knows she'll have to talk to her at one point—but not right now.
Luca had woken her up in the morning. Begged for her to come see the game. Being too tired, her brain too fogged up by her short night of sleep, she accepted to attend the event—much to her dismay.
"Sure," Nora snorts. "You hate sleeping in your old bedroom."
"Yeah, well, it was either that or call a taxi whilst being smashed," Isla snarls bitterly.
"Jesus fucking Christ," her sister mumbles. "Let me know when you're done engorging your coffee. Maybe you'll be in a better mood after seven doses of caffeine."
As a loud sigh flies past her lips, Isla jabs Nora in the ribs. "You're an idiot."
"Yeah, I've missed you too," she replies, evident sarcasm laced to her tone.
In a swift motion, the group of girls seated next to them stands to their feet. One of them taps onto the glass, trying to gain a player's attention—unsuccessfully so—as he skates right past her.
When he slows down and abruptly stops, ice sprays around him like minuscule snowflakes drizzling onto frozen water.
"Puck bunnies are pathetic," Isla huffs, eyeing one of the girls shrugging her jumper off to reveal a jersey with the name "Hayes" on the back of it.
A loud laugh rises from Nora's throat. Chewing onto her snack, she shakes her head in disbelief at her sister's comment. "You'd be a puck bunny, too, if you attended more games."
"You're wrong about that," Isla mutters, bringing her cup of coffee to her lips and blowing the steam away.
"You're my big sis', and even though you're avoiding everything that includes our family, I still know you. And I know when you're eye-fucking hockey players."
Isla snorts softly, but doesn't deny the obvious fact. Before moving to the United States, Isla used to love watch Luca practice. She'd spend hours sitting there and listen to the sounds of pucks getting hit. She'd watch her brother and his teammates do something they love. And sometimes, she'd join them on the rink after practice to skate.
She grew up learning about hockey, and even played it, too. From the youngest age, she was introduced to the world of sports—so, of course she'd be into hockey players.
The last time she attended a hockey game was...years ago. But she has made a promise to herself to support Luca, because he has always given her unconditional love and support.
Trying to conceal the way her eyes threaten to water at the mere thought of those ancient memories, she takes her phone out from her purse.
"Seriously?" Nora scoffs, leaning in to observe Isla scroll through her Instagram feed. "You're just going to sit there and be on your phone the whole fucking time?"
"Give me a break, No'," Isla snarls. "It's already a good thing that I'm here."
"I suppose, yeah," the blonde says after a few seconds of silence.
Being here whilst hungover and spending her time on social medias whilst loud chatter echoes around isn't Isla's favourite. But looking at something else than at the busy ice rink is the only way to avoid her brother's gaze. He looks at her, observes her, as if surveying her every move, watching her to see if she is ever going to leave.
"Who are they playing against?" Isla asks in a mumble.
"Harvard."
"Oh."
Her sister gives a nudge with her elbow. "Look at you being all interested."
She raises her brows as she double taps on the most recent post of some formula 1 driver. "Look at me pretending to be interested."
"Progress," Nora supposes in a whisper.
Though a rather thick glass panel separates the public from the hockey players, a sudden cool breeze swirls around. She doesn't look up when a shadow halts in front of them, and still doesn't look away from her screen when a player taps repeatedly on the glass.
"Hey! Nora, baby," the player shouts.
Isla's heart skips a beat, but she doesn't know why. Perhaps it's because of the sound of his rough voice that seems familiar. Perhaps it's because some cocky player has just referred her sister as baby.
"Hi," Nora beams, scooting forward onto the edge of her seat. She gives a single tap onto the panel, excitement heard in her tone. "Good luck."
"You're my good luck charm," he admits smugly. Isla forces herself to not scrunch her nose in disgust. "I'll score a win for you."
A giggle escapes Nora's throat. "You better."
It is only when the player disappears that Isla looks at her sister, snorting. "Was that your boyfriend?"
Nora's green eyes widen as she sakes her head. "That guy?" She points her forefinger at the packed rink. "No. Luca would kill me if I dated him. But you should see him—he's super cute."
Feeling as though she can sense an intense gaze scrutinising her side profile, she darts her stare towards the players. Instantly meeting with a pair of curious blue eyes, she can feel her breath slowly hitch inside her throat.
The player has taken his helmet off, passing a veiny hand through his already damp hair. Dark locks curl around his ears, one lazy and rebel strand falling onto his forehead. A slight frown plasters his face as he holds Isla's gaze from afar, a small line drawing itself in between his brows.
Their staring contest only lasts for a few heartbeats—though it feels like eternity—until it gets broken by the coach coming to stand right in front of him.
"Who's number sixteen?" Isla asks, her eyes still locked to the tall athlete, who nods to whatever he has just been told.
"Number six—" Nora follows her gaze and then scoffs. "That's who I was just talking to," she huffs. "You don't know him?"
"Should I?" Isla frowns, glancing at her sister who stares at her with narrowed eyes.
"Gods, Isla," she says whilst rolling her eyes. "If you stopped being so conceited and started listening to Luca talk during dinner, then you'd know everything about that dude." With a sweep of her hand, she gestures to the player who is putting his helmet back on. "That's Romeo Quinn. He and Luca hate each other."
Isla blinks. "They do?"
"Yep," she answers around a handful of popcorn. "Quinn is team captain but Luca thinks he hasn't earned the position. He thinks he should have been it—hence the A on Lu's jersey. Do you remember what it stands for or—"
"Stop it, Nora," Isla bites, wrapping her cardigan around her torso. "I do know what it means."
"Are you sure?" she teases with a mocking tone. "You haven't stepped foot in a hockey rink in years. I seriously wonder how—"
"I still watch the NHL, you dumbarse." The deadly glare Isla sends her sister's way instantly shuts the blonde up, letting her know it is best to not press on the subject.
"As I was saying," Nora continues after clearing her throat, "they're both being scouted by the NHL."
Oh.
Goosebumps arise on Isla's skin as she suddenly feels cold as though she has been thrown into a pool full of ice. Obvious guilt swirls along the edges of her brown irises—sorrowful flashes of culpability darken her stare because she wasn't aware of any of this. Because Luca is on the verge of accomplishing his biggest dream, and Isla has stayed her selfish self all along.
Nora's beautiful face contorts with sympathy. She offers some popcorn to her sister but Isla denies with a slight shake of her head. "Rumour has it that Quinn is already the first pick in the draft."
"Wow," Isla whispers.
Impressed in an understatement. Being scouted by the NHL as he still is in university? Being the first overall pick of the draft before even graduating? That kid must be skilled. Talented. Gifted, even.
"I know," the younger blonde nods. "Luca is salty about it, though, so don't ever mention the fact Quinn might be drafted before he can."
Isla doesn't say anything because she is mesmerised by this Romeo Quinn. Those regal cheekbones hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet look almost familiar to her. Everything about his face is alluring—chiselled, sculpted, he looks like he's been crafted off marble, and there is no point in denying the fact he is one of the most handsome men Isla has ever laid eyes on.
Romeo's gaze collides with hers again. Quirking his lips into a sly smirk, he nudges his chin into her direction before diverting his stare back to his teammates.
Nora flickers her gaze back and forth between her sister and the team captain. "Do you two know each other?"
Isla shakes her head. "No, I don't think I've ever seen him before." She reaches over, plunging her hand in Nora's popcorn bag. "He probably thinks I'm a puck bunny he can fuck later on."
Nora giggles. "You are a puck bunny, Isla."
♣ ♣ ♣
"Are you going to kick me in the balls if I hug you?"
"I'm not a brute, dude."
"You kind of are," Luca mumbles whilst passing a hand through his wet hair, his duffel bag resting next to his feet. "Remember the time you hit me in the head when we played football and—"
Isla scowls. "I got your point. Besides, we were six, and you were being annoying."
The wind blows Isla's hair away from her face. Hands buried in the pockets of her jumper, she scans her brother's face as he chuckles.
But when Luca takes a step forward, his throat bops as he swallows hard, the shift in his mood clearly thick in the atmosphere. "Can I?"
"Yeah," Isla whispers. "Come here."
The very second Luca's strong arms engulf Isla into a bone-crushing hug, she can't exactly ignore the heavy sensation gripping at her chest. She is quick at wrapping her own arms around his waist, though. Eyes closed, she swallows the large lump inside her throat as she breathes in his familiar scent.
"I'm glad you were here to see our win," he mumbles in her ear, his breath tickling her skin.
It takes a few seconds before she answers, "me too." She pulls away to look into his eyes. Whilst Nora and Luca have the same green eyes, Isla is the only Presley to have dark brown ones. "I'll try and come more often to your games."
"That would make me really happy," he admits, dark brows pinched together.
"Come on, update me," she asks, lingering her gaze on a small bruise on his arcade. "Who's first in the conference?"
He beams. "We are."
Isla can't help but smile, warmth flooding inside her chest. "That's amazing, Lu," she murmurs. "You guys are doing amazing."
He nods slowly. "Yeah, I think so, too."
A few seconds of silence reign, the sounds of chatter and ignited cars wavering around. When Luca's name is being called out by one of his teammates, he presses his mouth into a tight-lipped smile before turning around.
But mid-route towards his friend, he halts and turns to look back at his twin. "What are you doing tonight?"
Avoiding Emilia, she wants to say.
"Nothing," she replies with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Want to grab some pizza? You can stop by my dorm if you want to."
Luca's smile could pierce light through dark and thick clouds. His eyes sparkle with glints of hope. "Like the old times. Sounds like a plan."
With a short nod of her head, Isla smiles timidly as if scared to show how happy it truly makes her to reconnect with her twin brother. But when she finds Nora staring at her from the other side of the parking lot, leaned on the hood of her car, she huffs at the sight of two thumbs lifted up in encouragement.
When Isla turns around, someone bumps into her. Firm hands hold her elbows to help her steady herself, and she can't help but glance down at the pale yet veiny hands holding her.
And then, blue meets brown. Isla's breath catches in the back of her throat as she observes the faint glow of the sun beam upon the side of the man's face.
"Careful," he drones quietly. "You don't want to break a leg."
His voice seems familiar, but she doesn't know where and when she has heard it before.
"It'd be unfortunate, wouldn't it?" She tilts her head sideways, and when Romeo's eyes drift down to look at her lips, his own curve into a smirk.
"Very," he whispers huskily. He then lets go of his grasp upon her arms, taking a step back. Whilst she thinks he is about to put his hands in the pockets of his fleece jumper, he extends his right one. A large palm awaiting for hers to collide with it. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Romeo Quinn."
"So I've heard." She places her hand in his, and when he shakes it firmly, a trail of sparks seeps through her veins. "Isla Presley."
Subtle surprise illuminates his eyes, though the puzzled flash barely lasts for more than a second. The minuscule motion of his jaw tightening makes the muscle tick at the tension. He doesn't let go of her hand, but his gaze scrutinises her face, taking his time to remember every inch of her features, as though trying to imprint her photograph into his mind.
"Presley?" His tongue rolls on the interior of his cheek. Brows raising in wonder, he asks, "Luca's sister?"
"Twin," she specifies.
"Fuck," he musters, furrowing his brows. His thumb brushes over her knuckles, slowly so. "If I had known, angel, maybe I wouldn't have allowed you to kiss me like you did last night."
Isla feels her heart stop beating. Feels the world coming to a halt just for a flickering heartbeat.
"You..."
"Yeah, me," he grins. Fucking dimples. That fucking charm. Isla knew a beautiful human being was hiding behind the mask. "I knew I had recognised your pretty face when I saw you sitting with Nora."
Shit. Isla had been reckless last night. She did start the evening with a mask tightly secured around her head, and in the midst of dancing, it got lost somewhere in the haze.
He caresses the back of her hand with a calloused thumb. Though his motion is tender and coaxing, his smirk is the complete opposite—mischievous and wicked. "Speechless, angel?"
Isla scoffs. Can he also sense the warmth prickling at her skin by the simple contact of their hands? "Don't angel me."
The dark-haired athlete smirks, and Isla darts her gaze away, pretending she isn't affected by his smug smile and pretty eyes.
Leaning forward, his mouth halts centimetres away from her ear. His breaths tickle her skin, but his murmur causes shivers to trail down her spine. "Looks like I'm going to see you more often now." The evident insolence in his patronising tone can be heard. "I can't wait."
When Romeo lets go, she instantly feels cold. She merely blinks when he winks before turning around, aiming for his car.
She can't look away, though. Sensing her gaze upon him, he peers from his shoulder. Ever so slowly, his spellbinding eyes scrutinise her body, lazily doing so. Though the risqué glance only lasts for a few minuscule seconds, the world seems to have slowed its spinning down, allowing him to use all the gifted sliver of time to catch sight of the dazed brunette.
Whilst utter awe swirls around his flared pupils, Isla glimpses the flashes of surprise and amazement, but also something more—a longing, secret adoration.
Romeo Quinn is the stranger she kissed last night. Is the one person who has managed to make her feel like floating. The only one who has been able to revive something in her she thought had eternally extinguished by the mere fusion of their lips.
"Stay away from him." Luca's voice resonates, his condescending tone nearly making shivers appear on the nape of her neck. "Don't talk to him. I fucking mean it, Isla. He's trouble and a fucking arrogant, pompous arse."
Isla knows she should step back. Shouldn't look at the tall, dark-haired hockey player. But defiance alights her soul, and the debut of this fatal attraction might be the cause of her betrayal.
If she wants to mend the fragmented pieces of Luca's heart because of their past, she has to promise to stay away from Quinn. But how long until the oath is broken?