Temere Mortis

Chapter Thirty-seven

The memories consumed her. Not in drips and drabs, but like a tsunami. Wave after wave of crushingly familiar scenes enveloped her fragile mind, causing her back to arch on the chair and the others to cry out in alarm.

"You don't want to join in?" he asked her quietly with a small smirk on his lips. "Or are you just afraid you'll lose?"

He was referring to the strange game all the guys and a few eager girls were playing at the table in the centre of the room. A cup sat in the centre and everyone had a finger on it, stood around the table in a circle. Every so often someone would shout out a number and some people would retract their hands as if they'd been burned. The remaining players kept their fingers on the rim of the cup as if super glued there by mistake. Isla didn't really understand how to play, but she understood the purpose was to get as drunk as possible.

"I'm afraid I might embarrass you all," Isla quipped with a sly smile. The boy laughed loudly, and the joyous sound brought a genuine grin to Isla's lips.

"I'm Henry," he introduced himself, running an awkward hand through his hair.

"Isla," she returned the sentiment and held out a hand for him to shake. He surprised her, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

"Nice to meet you, Isla."

It was the same display from her time in seclusion at the clinic. Henry.

A small smile tickled at her lips as he plopped down in front of her. They were sat in the café that Isla had frequented since she arrived in Manchester a few weeks ago. It was quickly becoming her spot, and he was unceremoniously invading it.

"I don't hang out with strangers in coffee shops," Isla commented lightly, but she was smiling. Henry faked a gasp, placing his hand over his chest in mock shock.

"You don't remember me? And here I thought we had a moment," he joked, leaning forward to take a sip of her coffee. Isla swatted him away.

"Hey, that's mine," Isla protested. Henry pouted.

"You don't share?" he asked, giving her puppy-dog eyes. Isla narrowed her eyes.

"Not food or coffee," she replied. "Food and coffee are sacred." Henry nodded sagely as if Isla's words had been universally profound.

"So, you won't share food?" Henry inquired, a cheeky grin etched upon his face. "That's a shame." Isla raised a single eyebrow curiously.

"Oh?" she responded, with false disinterest. Inwardly however, she was undeniably intrigued.

"Yeah," Henry chuckled. "I was going to invite you out for tapas tonight, but if you don't like sharing food..." He let his sentence trail off at the end and Isla struggled not to giggle like an idiot.

"I like tapas," she admitted, shyly and Harry flashed her a toothy grin.

"It's a date."

Isla couldn't help but notice that she had greeted Max in the same way as Henry when they first met under extremely similar circumstances. She wondered if he had watched this memory and recreated it on purpose. Perhaps he assumed it would resonate within her and make him more appealing to her soul.

Isla could remember that date, their first date like it was yesterday. Henry had awkwardly picked her up at her flat whilst Alex cat-called after them. Isla had blushed vibrantly, but Henry had laughed and kissed her on the check, assuring her that she looked cute regardless.