The Collateral Effect

c h a p t e r 1 | Typical De Ricci

"And plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human."

*•*•*•*•*

She'd only been back for two days and she was already back to her old habits. Somewhat, at least. If the boy snoring quietly beside her was any indication. Isabella scoffed silently.

The time on her phone read 04:17 AM. No wonder it was so dark outside. She squinted her eyes as she skimmed over all the missed calls and unread messages popping up on the screen. With a groan, Isabella rolled over and focused on the handsome fella beside her.

She was thankful for distractions like him. They kept her mind off of all the other pressing matters in her life. But there was always that period of time when there was no alcohol or drug or boy to keep her mind away. And in that sliver of a moment, she could crumble.

Now she was floating, waiting for the next obstacle to jump up and pull her down. To drown her. And with every time she was pulled under, she was left with less energy to pull herself back up to the surface.

His name was Diego, if she remembered correctly. Vague images of the events of the night prior flashed through her mind, many of them hazy due to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. She was at a club, that she's sure of. But the rest was a blur. With a defeated sigh, she turned her back to the boy and forced herself to drift back to sleep.

*•*•*•*•*•*

There were three rules that came with one-night stands.

1. Make your intentions clear. It's just a one-night stand.

2. Don't delve into your personal life.

3. Be gone within half an hour of waking up the next morning.

Yet here he stood, in her kitchen, shirtless nonetheless, making breakfast.

What was this?

Isabella rummaged through her thoughts, trying to remember when she'd made it clear to Diego the previous night that it was just a one-night stand. The quicker he left the next morning, the better.

And on top of it all, he was humming to himself, all cheery and comfortable and looking more at ease in her kitchen than she's ever felt.

"You don't need to do that," were her first words when she entered the large kitchen. Diego looked up at her as he scrambled the eggs in the pan. She wasn't going to let him know how good it smelt, nor how her stomach rumbled when the smell of bacon coaxed her out of her bedroom 5 minutes ago.

"It's fine," he chuckled, grabbing the butter from the refrigerator. Isabella watched the muscles in his back and arms ripple with each of his movements. Silently she wadded over to the barstool and sat down, watching him shuffle around.

"If you were hungry, I could've called Evelina," she stated. "The only reason she wasn't in here this morning is because-"

Diego's light laughter interrupted her. She frowned, unsure about what he found so funny.

"I'm quite sure I'm able to scramble some eggs and fry some bacon," he mused, dishing the eggs onto the plates he'd taken out of the cupboard. He popped the pan in the sink and handed the plate with toast to Isabella, passing her the butter and butter knife too.