♣ ♣ ♣
I S L A
"IS THERE SOMETHING on my face?" Isla asks, the crease in between her brows evident as she looks up at Ezra.
The three boys sat on the sofa have been silent for the past minute. Except from Samuel's delighted "hi", none of them has so much as uttered a single word.
Ezra shrugs. "Apart from the fact you're pretty, no."
She narrows her eyes, scoffing and ignoring the hums of approval coming from his roommates. "Is being a flirt a requirement to live in this house?"
"It's a plus," Romeo grins, standing to his feet. He offers his hand to Isla, and as if she has been pulled towards him like a magnet with its other half, she places her palm in his.
Ezra grumbles something beneath his breath from her side, but Isla doesn't acknowledge the complaint as Romeo brings her hand up to his lips.
The brush of his lips on her knuckles whilst he holds her gaze makes a trail of tingles rush down her spine. Heat warms up her cheeks, though the obvious fact of timidity is concealed by her already flushed face.
"Told you we'd be seeing each other soon," he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on the back of her hand.
Isla breathes, wanting to bask in his gaze for eternity. But she retreats her hand, holding her chin high as she takes a step back, colliding with Ezra's chest.
"Edwards," she calls out, her voice cracking. Romeo smirks, but she sends him a glare that only makes him snicker out loud. "Come on. It's eight thirty."
"Damn, you're punctual," Killian mumbles from the sofa, looking at the time on his phone.
"Told you." She raises her brows—a silent press for Killian to stand. "Where do you want to do that?"
"My room?" he suggests, pocketing his phone after jumping over the back of the sofa. "So we won't hear those idiots howl whilst they play."
Isla lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Wherever is fine."
"Sweet," he beams. "Follow me, m'lady."
From her peripheral vision, she swears she can see Romeo shoot daggers in the back of his friend's head as they walk up the stairs. Or perhaps it is only a figment of her imagination.
Killian's room isn't too big nor too small. Black pieces of furniture contrast with the four-poster bed made of oak wood, an electric guitar hidden in the corner of the room that manages to catch Isla's attention.
He throws himself onto the bed with a loud sigh before shifting until he is propped on his side, holding his head with his fist. "Come and join me," he suggests.
"Thank you, but no," Isla utters coldly. She looks around before taking a seat on the armchair next to the guitar. Shrugging her coat off, she asks, "so, what did you exactly fail on the mid-term?"
"Everything?" His mouth twists.
"Okay..." She looks over at his desk, noticing the economics textbook is buried under a pile of other books. "What are you exactly struggling with?"
"Dunno," he mumbles, lingering his gaze on her thighs as she places one atop the other. "Don't care."
Isla sighs, bending over to untie her shoelaces. "Look, if you're just going to sit there and not make a single effort to help me out, you can ask for another tutor. You're wasting both our times here."
"Feisty," he whispers, blinking before rolling his eyes dramatically. "Fine. Just tell me what to do."
"Have you even opened your textbook?" She gestures to his desk, and he shakes his head. "Attended lectures?" Another silent denial. "Read someone's notes?" He shakes his head again.
"I actually hate this class," he admits, shifting to lie on his back.
"So do I, but here I am." She stands up, making him look at her as she finally kicks her shoes off. "How about you start reading the chapters about international trade?"
He groans. "What chapters are those?"
"One to seven," she replies.
"Fuck my life," he musters. "Are you sure you don't want to hook up? It'll be more fun."
Tempting, but no. Isla exhales loudly before shaking her head. "I'm here to help you have better grades. Nothing else. So get your arse up and start reading before I leave you to your own mess."
Killian sits up, lifting his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'm on it."
Isla tosses him the textbook. "Can I use a bathroom? I feel a bit dirty with that flour stain on my jumper."
"Sure," Killian nods. "Bathroom is at the end of the corridor—the door on your right. But if you need some girl stuff, Romeo keeps a bag full of them in his personal bathroom."
"His girlfriend's stuff?" Isla can't help but ask, slightly frowning.
"Nah," he trails, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "He doesn't do girlfriends nor doesn't let his hookups stay the night, but he keeps hair ties, makeup wipes, hydrating serum and even tampons and shit in there. 'Just in case' he told me one day."
"Oh." How is she actually supposed to react to this? Shrug it off because she shouldn't be caring? Smile because he is single and available? Oh, wait—Mr. Quinn doesn't do girlfriends, and maybe Isla should have paid more attention to Killian's words when he had put emphasis on that statement.
"Let me know if you need anything," he then says when she doesn't so much as show a flicker of emotion in her eyes. "Or don't. Whatever."
Isla thanks the dark-haired man with a short nod of her head before exiting the room. She wanders in the long corridor, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall—a few shots of Romeo and his team during games, a collage made out of Polaroids in a frame with photos of parties and vacations and friends, a portrait of a younger Romeo she instantly recognises, sat in front of, who she assumes are, his parents.
When Isla enters the bathroom, she is pleasantly surprised by the tidiness of the room. She washes her hands, takes her jumper off, leaving her in jeans and a blouse that might be too thin for the November breeze. Letting her hair out of the disheveled chignon, the locks fall past her shoulders as she places the hair tie on her wrist.
When she faces her reflection, she shakes her head in exasperation to herself—at the sight of her chocolate eyes lacking the sparks of delight they used to hold.
Get your shit together, she repeats in her mind.
When Isla moved from London to Boston, it was for a fresh start—well, she was forced into starting a new life. So why can't she still feel happy to be here? It's been two years.
The very instant she opens the door to go back to Killian's room, she faces a chest clad in a black sweater. Romeo leans his shoulder on the doorframe, strong arms folding over his torso.
"Hi," he whispers when Isla's gaze collides with him. No sign of mischief, no smug grin. Just utter attention drawn towards her, his features soft and enticing.
"Oh, you." She tries to appear unimpressed by his close proximity.
"Yes, me." His voice has, somehow, dropped an octave, making the hairs on her arms to rise. "Everything okay?"
"Perfectly fine," she voices sweetly, taking a step to her left to try and walk past him. But his broad frame prevents her from getting out.
"Need anything?"
"Yes," she blinks up at him, fluttering her lashes whilst a faux smiles etches at her lips. "For you to move out of my way."
Romeo grins, and just like that, every single ounce of annoyance coursing through her veins disappears. Cleary, he is amused by her boldness, but the dark flicker in his gaze proves he is also impressed by it.
"Alright, alright," he chuckles, pushing himself off the door to allow her to walk out of the bathroom. "Only because you're here to help my buddy out so he doesn't have to be benched the rest of the season."
"Exactly," she whispers, brushing her shoulder to his in the process of leaving. "I'm not here for you, Romeo."
Doing it on purpose, she stops there. Right next to him. Looking up at him, his ocean eyes pierce into hers, a smirk drawing itself on his lips. "Is that so, angel?"
Ignore him, the little angel on her right shoulder says. Follow him into his room, the little devil on the other shoulder suggests.
With one quick overlook on his chiselled face, she lets her gaze burn until his cheeks redden. Bingo—he is blushing.
"Bye, Quinn."
♣ ♣ ♣
"Are you planning on going pro after uni?" Isla couldn't contain the question any longer as she has been staring at the hockey stick resting against Killian's bookshelf that is decorated with stickers from rock bands and filled with multiple vinyls.
Killian looks up from the textbook that, without a single shred of doubt, bores him to sleep. "I really want to, yeah."
"Any favoured team?" She brings her feet up to the edge of the seat, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Bruins," he answers quickly. "But if I want to be scouted, I really need to get my shit together and start studying."
"You said it, not me," she chuckles.
He falls onto his back, kicking his notes away as he stares at the ceiling. "I wish I were like Cap," he mumbles. "He's getting drafted—everyone knows it. But he fucking deserves it, you know? That dude is talented. But I can't help that sting of jealousy when I see the scouts ogle him like he's fucking Sidney Crosby or something."
"Wow," Isla drawls, lifting her brows. "You sound like my brother."
"What's with that, by the way?" Killian peers at the brunette with a frown. "Luca and Romeo are constantly at each other's throat."
Isla shrugs. "I don't know. Must be because of the Captain title or something."
"I guess so, but Rome has been Captain for two years. Your brother is a spiteful git, isn't he?"
Isla sighs. "You have no idea."
Speaking of the devil.
Laughter echoes from outside, and when Isla looks out the window, she watches Luca get out of a car that has just been parked in his driveway. He pats one of his friend's back, ushering him towards the door.
"I had no clue you guys were neighbours," she mumbles, gaze fixated on the wide smile etched at Luca's face.
There is a small moment of silence as Killian looks at Isla. When she meets his gaze, he is frowning. "Are you guys not that close?"
She puts her feet back down on the floor. "That's none of your business."
He sits up straight. "Wait, I didn't mean to—"
"I have to go, Killian. It's late." Putting her shoes back on, she grabs her bag and coat, already walking towards the door. When a tiny cat jumps out of nowhere, she gets startled but her features instantly soften when the animal rubs himself on her leg.
"That's Raven," Killian chuckles softly. "She's eight weeks old."
Isla bends over to caress the shiny black fur. "Cute." She then straightens herself, clutching her jacket to her chest. "I'll text you a few questions I want you to answer for the next study session."
"Whatever," he grumbles, sat on the edge of his bed, wiggling his fingers to catch Raven's attention. "Tomorrow same time?"
"Let me check my agenda." Pulling out her phone, Isla looks at her calendar—well, pretends to check her overloaded planner. "Eight thirty could work."
"Sweet," he smiles. "Thanks, Isla. You're a life saver."
She rolls her eyes. "Thank me when you win a championship with the Bruins in a few years."
♣ ♣ ♣
When Isla reaches the front door, Killian on her heels as he had insisted to walk her out, she halts when her name is being called out.
"Do you want to hang out with us?" Samuel asks from the kitchen, holding two large packets of popcorn. "We're going to watch a movie."
The sight of his smile instantly brings a grin on her face, though she declines the kind offer with a shake of her head. "Thank you, but I really need to go."
"Already?" Ezra peeks his head from the living room, sat on the sofa with the tv controller in hand as he switches between sports channels.
"It's almost eleven," she states. "That guy—" she points her thumb at Killian who holds Raven in his arms, "—is a slow reader."
"I kept being distracted," he answers with a huff.
"By what?" She scowls, eyes narrowed into slits.
"More by whom," he grins then winks at Isla.
With a roll of her eye, she puts her hand on the doorknob. "I'm not going to be nicer to you because you flirt with me, Edwards."
He shrugs. "Even if I buy you flowers?"
"Don't try."
"How about I take you on a date?"
"No."
"Fine," he huffs. "I'll read those chapters and be ready for your quiz tomorrow. Besides, I better not be messing with Cap's girl."
Isla blinks, her breath catching inside her throat. Ezra chuckles, and when Isla look over to him, he merely shrugs.
"I'm no one's girl," she bites out, twisting the doorknob open. "Bye now."
"Bye, Isla!" Samuel shouts over the noise of the microwave. "We'll miss you."
With one last wave to the three men, Isla steps out of the mansion. The smell of rain lingering on the concrete wavers in the air, the sky dark and the neighbourhood quiet. She fastens the buttons of her jacket as she walks towards her bike.
Though she is focused on getting back to campus as quickly as she can, the Porsche parked in front of the garage catches her attention.
Nice cars remind her of her life in London. When she'd drive downtown with her mother in her dad's old Porsche 911. When her father would take her, and her siblings, to racing events.
She steps around the Porsche GT3 RS, unable to take her eyes off the rear wing. The matte black catches her eye, and she nearly drags her finger over the logo on the hood.
The front door opens, and Romeo steps out. He smiles at Isla and walks towards her, hands tucked in the pockets of his joggers. His hair is disheveled, eyes hooded, as if he has just woken up.
"Want to go for a drive?" he asks, now standing in front of her.
She steps away, though, but still circles the vehicle, peering the inside of it. "This is yours?"
"Yep," he says, popping the p. The wind blows his curls away from his forehead as he starts walking around the car. "Apology gift from my dear father for not being really present in my life."
"Oh," Isla whispers. She glances at him, only to find him already staring at her. As if she is more interesting than this automobile. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he assures softly. "He works in worldwide real estate. He travels a lot. This house—" he nudges his chin towards the mansion behind him, "—is his, too. Well, I guess it's mine and my buddies' now."
Isla chews on the inside of her cheek, not really knowing what to say. Empathy shimmers in her eyes, causing his gaze to linger over the sombre colour of her irises. Great distance separates them—a car in between—but it seems like Romeo can't tear his eyes off of her.
When she doesn't say anything, he juts his chin in her direction, a small line drawn in between his brows. "Let me drive you home."
Isla shakes her head. "No, I'll be fine."
"On that bike?"
She raises her brows. "What's wrong with my bike?"
"Nothing," he says, eyeing the cycle. "Looks solid. It's just raining."
"I'm a big girl," she states coldly. "I live on campus, it's not that far away."
"Isla," he presses, taking a step towards her. The dim light of the porch glows upon his cheekbone, putting a small bruise he recently got in evidence. "Are you sure?"
She breathes, her shoulders dropping. "I'll be fine, Romeo."
Her shoulder brushes his when she marches towards her bike. Gripping the handlebar, she can feel his gaze saunter over her back.
"Wait." Romeo jogs to stand in front of her, one hand placed in the middle of the bar to prevent her from leaving. "How can I convince you to let me take you out?"
The brunette narrows her eyes, letting a few heartbeats pass to study his features. Serious, genuine. No flash of malevolence in his ocean eyes.
"I'm not interested, Quinn," she says for the second time today.
"I refuse to believe that." His hand snakes to touch hers, and she swears they both stop breathing at the same time.
The feeling of his hand on hers makes her heart jolt, and she does not like this sensation of uncontrolled vulnerability. The world stops spinning. Their surroundings cease to exist. And Isla shouldn't feel mystified by him. Shouldn't enjoy his dark regard as he merely looks at her as though he has never seen beauty quite like hers.
The skin on skin contact lasts for a flickering heartbeat before he retreats his hand, though his warm touch lingers, constrasting with the cold breeze interflowed with the light November rain.
"I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not one of your puck bunnies you can throw in the trash after a few meaningless hook ups," she bites out at the sight of his smug grin.
Isla know this is exactly why Romeo wants her—she does not want him, and it thrills him to be, for once in his life, rejected.
Evidently puzzled by her remark and harshness in her tone, he stills but then shakes his head in disbelief.
"Tell you what, Presley." Now, his eyes glint with both mischief and hope. "Come to Bravo on Friday night to have a drink with us."
"In exchange of what?"
He gestures to the Porsche. "I'll let you drive this beauty."
Isla can't help but look at the beautiful car, a small sigh escaping her mouth. But she shakes her head again. "I don't know."
"You're thinking about it," he notes. Not a question, but a true statement.
Just as she opens her mouth to reply that she would actually enjoy driving this car, her phone chimes. She swears under her breath when she looks at the notification.
LUCA
Is that you in front of Romeo's house????
ISLA
yes, and?
LUCA
WTF are you doing over there?
ISLA
chill. i'm just tutoring killian.
i'm leaving right now.
"Everything okay?"
When she looks up at Romeo, she notices how close they are one to another. His eyes shine with concern, and she simply nods in response.
"I have to go," she mumbles.
"Text me when you get home," he demands quietly.
She looks away, a sudden blush appearing on her cheeks. "I don't have your number."
He chuckles. "I'll give it to you."
"I don't give my number to strangers," she declares with a nonchalant shrug.
Throwing his head back, a loud laugh flies past his lips. "We're no longer strangers, baby. You kissed me, and I kissed you back. That was the moment we were destined to collide."
Such a cocky bastard—
She looks at him, evidently amused, and climbs on her bike. "You want my number? Earn it, loverboy."
For a brief second, his tongue appears to wet his lips. He then nods, letting a few rebels strands fall over his brows. "Playing hard to get," he musters, smirking. "Okay. So be it."
Isla doesn't look back when she leaves the alleyway, simply waving her hand in the air.
"Text Killian when you're home," Romeo shouts. "I fucking mean it, Presley! Unless you want me to show up at your front door to check on you."
♣ ♣ ♣
It is only when Isla is settled in bed after her night routine that she pulls her phone out to text Killian.
Something stirs inside her stomach, and she knows she won't be able to sleep unless she lets Romeo know she is safe and sound.
ISLA
tell your captain i'm home.
DON'T give him my number
he needs to work for it if he wants it ;)
KILLIAN EDWARDS
He said "thank god i was about to knock on every door on campus to find her"
Oh yeah I like u. My man isn't used of being rejected
ISLA
he's dramatic.
tell him to start getting used to it
KILLIAN EDWARDS
Yo I'm not playing messenger between you two lovebirds
But he says good night