𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐈 ─────⋆⋅★𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

𝟏𝟓. 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

The low hum of voices, laughter, and soft clinking of glasses faded as Isla drifted further into herself, her attention waning as the polite yet dull conversation dragged on. Her mother had circled her like a hawk earlier, ensuring she remained the "perfect young lady," introducing her to a few eligible suitors—all the right connections and pedigrees, but not one spark of genuine interest. 

The two men standing before her now were charming enough, all slick grins and practiced ease, but their words felt hollow, like reading the same page over and over without absorbing a single sentence. She looked down at her phone momentarily, checking the time, he was fifteen minutes late.

Isla's gaze slipped past them, searching for an escape. She felt the weight of her mother's eyes somewhere in the distance, her attention sharp and expectant. One of the suitors was leaning closer, his hand gesturing as he shared a story she couldn't bring herself to pretend to enjoy, when, suddenly, a familiar voice cut in.

"There you are, Isla." Rafe's voice was casual, yet commanding, laced with just enough urgency to be believable. "Sarah needs you. Right now." 

His tone brooked no argument, and before her mother could protest, he'd placed a steady hand on the small of her back, remarking, "I'll take care of her, don't worry Mrs Blackwell." Guiding her away from the group with an ease that felt dangerously good.

"Thank you," she murmured under her breath as they walked. Rafe's hand remained close, a solid presence as he took two steps behind her, almost like a bodyguard as they made their way toward the front lawn, away from the watchful eyes of her family and the party guests. 

Her heart raced as they slipped past the glow of the string lights, his confidence so certain that she barely registered where they were headed until they were at his car.

He held open the door for her with a subtle smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. She hesitated for only a second, glancing over her shoulder back at the party, before she slipped into the passenger seat, her pulse a mix of nerves and exhilaration.

Rafe slid into the driver's seat beside her, casting a quick glance her way, his smirk widening as he shifted into gear. "Sorry, I was late Blackwell," he said, the glint in his eyes promising adventure as they sped down the drive, Tannyhill fading behind them.

They didn't speak for a while, the rush of the wind through the open windows filling the car as they sped down the winding roads, the darkening sky casting shades of deep blue and purple.

 Isla glanced over at Rafe, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she took in the focused line of his jaw, his eyes fixed on the road like he knew exactly where he was going.

"Hungry?" he asked, catching her eye as they rounded a curve in the road, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Starving," she replied, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. "But then, that's no surprise considering you dragged me away from that barbecue."

Rafe rolled his eyes, glancing over at her. "Dragged you? You looked like you were about two seconds from sprinting off yourself."

She laughed, pretending to look affronted. "Well, maybe I was saving myself for someone to actually, you know... rescue me."

He scoffed, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Right, Blackwell. Like you don't have half the island wrapped around your finger already."

Isla leaned back, stealing a glance at Rafe, her smile softening as she watched him. He drove with a steady confidence, one hand draped over the wheel, the other occasionally brushing his thigh. "Oh, please. You're so dramatic, Cameron."

"Me?" He let out an incredulous laugh. "Says the girl who just called herself a damsel in distress." He slowed down as they neared a gas station, giving her a sidelong glance. "So, you want anything? This princess look needs, what... fancy bottled water?"