The Witch's Doll ⚢

Chapter 8

A knock on the wooden door brought a sound that reverberated through the Student Council room the next day. Bracing her hand on the couch's arm, Isla hoisted herself up but was pushed back down to her seat.

"We'll get it, Isla!" Poppy rushed past her. Isla chuckled at her friend's ton of excess energy.

"It's Parker Hurley!" They chattered even as they proceeded to drag Parker into the house. He was holding a bouquet in one hand, and a cardboard box of chocolate under his opposite arm.

Parker flashed Isla a smile that somehow was both goofy and encouraging at the same time. Poppy couldn't handle her gushing and giggling to herself.

Isla stifled a groan from escaping her lips. She didn't have the heart to refuse a man who was obviously doing his best to woo his lady love.

"Hi Parker," Henri greeted as Parker walked into the meeting room; he was sitting opposite Isla and munched on a biscuit. Although he seemed casual, Isla knew the nonchalant and silent disposition of his was an indicator that he knew something was about to go out of hand here.

Parker made his way across the room to have a seat next to Isla. "Everyone takes their jobs seriously here, I wonder if all of you spend your free time actually resting."

"We do it at lunchtime," Isla said, getting the pot to refill her teacup. "So, Parker what brings you here, do you want to become a volunteer like Poppy?"

"These are for you." He smiled, extending the bouquet.

"Oh, Parker, they're beautiful!" Isla tried her best to exclaim in joy as she brought her nose to the pink roses, so delicately arranged with ferns and baby's breath, pausing to inhale their fragrance. "And they smell so nice! Thank you!"

Parker leaned closer to envelop her in a hug, Isla seized the moment to move a few inches away from Parker, to prevent him from actually hugging her but they already touched. Parker easily noticed that she made her uncomfortable with her advances.

"Actually, Isla, these aren't from me." He began, rubbing the back of his neck with a free hand.

"What do you mean?" Isla inquired, confusion lacing her eyes.

"They're from a friend who wanted to remain anonymous." He explained, hoping the nervousness in his eyes wasn't giving too much away.

But Isla; however, was keener than that.

"An anonymous friend?" she pressed. "Would that anonymous friend happen to know I do not have time to indulge myself with the matters of the heart?"

"Uhh, maybe she, I mean—he didn't." Parker gulped; he was nervously playing with his hair. Isla noticed that his hair was becoming undone by the spray that held his hairstyle together.

Henri wanted to slap his forehead at seeing his mate's pitiful attempt of flirting. Though, he did, try to salvage his friend's dignity. "Mate, I have reports to hand to the Deputy Headmistress, would you mind going with me?"