Isla Accardo falls into the stereotype of the girl that binge-watches Netflix series and eats pizza for every meal. She classifies sleeping as her career and swearing her nature. But Isla was not one to fall into male's traps.
Especially Damien Pier...
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Usually the escapades Erin forced me to accompany her with, turned out to be better than I thought.
This was not one of them.
I had been nursing the same cup of alcoholic beverage since I came, not wanting to lose my conscience tonight. I was in the house of my ex-boyfriend, and I needed to say alert for when his presence graced me.
I didn't mind Erin leaving me alone, it honestly was a blessing in disguise. The forced conversations with classmates I barely spoke one sentence to when we entered was enough social interaction for me tonight. I breathe heavily through my nose and take a small sip of the beer. I wince, setting the cup down to only meet a pair of eyes staring back at me.
I shift in my seat, setting the plastic cup down, "Adrian," I greet.
His head tilts to the side softly, a gentle smile on his face. I tighten my jaw, attempting to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
No, moths — the moths in my stomach.
"You came," he acknowledges.
"I was forced. It wasn't a willing action," and if I had known it was your house, you wouldn't see my presence anywhere near here.
"Well, I'm glad you came."
I nod, flicking my gaze to my painted nails. The silence was unbearable despite the laughter, conversations and music surrounding us. I divert my attention back to him, watching a hand side around the back of his neck.
"Was there something you'd like to say?" I question.
He sighs, dropping his hand, "I feel like there is too much to say."
My bottom lip curls into my mouth. There was too much to say. It was the first proper conversation we have had without tears streaking my cheeks and my heart being weighed down. It was the first time I didn't feel like throwing up in my presence.
Yet I couldn't find the right words to say to him. Every ounce of anger, hurt and grief disintegrated whilst I stared up at him.
Why did you do it?
I knew he could hear the question through my wary gaze. Similarly, I could hear the two words pondering on his tongue.
I snatch my cup off the coffee table, the liquid sloshing around the edges, "Thanks for the invite," I mumble, brushing past him.
I chug down the vile drink and toss it into the wall.
Don't worry Isla, his parents are rich enough to pay for the damage.
I smile to myself.
...
I should have never talked to him. I should have left.
