A Guide To: Isla

How To: Bad Decisions

"NO. NO THANK you," Isla said, as she turned away from the beautiful boy in front of her. "No. I'm not dealing with this, I'm not looking at you. If I can't see you, you're not here and I don't have to deal with the embarrassment. Sorry, but no." She could hear him chuckling - chuckling! The bastard was enjoying this! She knew she shouldn't have come to this damn seminar. Screw Alice's powerful woman bullcrap (Isla could appreciate the irony that even though she couldn't stand up to her best friend, still was some how a Powerful Woman. Alice's logic was flawed).

Bigger and better things, her arse. You know what was better than standing in this hallway in front of the man (Adonis) she had now fallen over in front of twice? Her bed. A vanilla milkshake, a Kanye dance party, and her bed. And if the milkshake was spiked with a tiny bit of alcohol, then who was really to blame? She had zoned out, too busy imagining any other situation she would rather be in (hung, drawn and quartered? Burnt at the stake?), when she saw Abel waving his hand in front of her face. She quickly snapped back into the conversation.

"Okay, before I can even comment on how awkward you get when you're embarrassed, can I just ask if you're okay?" Isla nodded a quick yes, still not meeting eye contact. Her face was red, she could just feel it. The burning sensation in her cheeks was strong, and if the ground didn't swallow her whole in the next few seconds, she was pretty sure she'd explode from the heat pressure in her face.

"Okay. Okay, good." He stuck his hand out slowly, reaching towards hers. "I think we met last night under more unfortunate circumstances, but I'm Jamie. Jamie Abel. It's nice to meet you..." He trailed off.

"Isla." She coughed, clearing her throat of as much awkwardness as possible. She quickly shook his hand. "My names Isla. Isla-May, but most people call me Isla. You can call me Isla." God, why can't she just shut up? Not talking was a skill Isla apparently didn't possess.

"Alright, Isla-May. That's a pretty name." Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. "I am sorry for pushing you - in the class and just then." He was wearing a plain white shirt which, as Isla noticed, hugged his biceps quite well. It would be rude not to notice, wouldn't it? He was wearing circular glasses, pushed up onto his head, with a couple strands of hair bouncing on his forehead. She was getting Zayn Malik vibes from him, and she was loving it.

Chill out, Isla. Please remember to breathe, she could feel her subconscious reprimanding her. Jesus, how do people not just drop dead in front of him?

"See you around?"

"Yes!" That was way to excited for someone who'd literally just been crying, Isla thought, and so covered it up by going on to say, "Uh, yeah. Sure. See you in class sometime." Yep! That totally made up for it. She watched his retreating back. She'd definitely judged him too quickly last night, though in all fairness, she had been covered in mud. She had that excuse.

He seemed like a nice lad; he definitely did not deserve all the names she'd called him the night before - both out loud and in her head. She also oddly liked the feeling of his hand in hers when he shook it. It gave her an odd tingly feeling, one she hadn't felt since she first started seeing Chris. She couldn't help admitting that the difference in his personality between their conversation at the race track and their recent interaction gave her slight whiplash, but a nice guy with a dark secret? Now, that would get any girl interested.

Isla was a bit more than interested. She was already planning their wedding.

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There was a party going on in the flat next to hers. 

The girl always seemed nice enough whenever Isla passed her in the street but, damn, that girl knew how to get on her nerves. On a normal Friday night, she would be out with the boys or watching a film with Alice so it wouldn't bother her, but Alice had gone back home for a few days and she still wasn't talking to Chris. Elliot had texted her a couple of minutes ago saying they were going to the bar in the Union, but Isla knew she'd have to face him and that just wasn't something she could take in her present state. She'd forgotten to take her makeup off before her shower and hadn't moved to wipe it off after. Drowned rat was a very apt description.