Isla

19.

1 9 | f a i r y  m e a d o w

AUSTIN AND I MADE UP THE NEXT DAY.

It was like it always was. Not that we fought often, but when we did, this was how it went: I gave him a day to cool off, then I'd approach first and apologise, even if he was in the wrong. Then he'd apologise back, and we'd hug, and his arms would be so warm around me, and his face would bury in my neck. He'd whisper something sweet.

Something like, "I love you Isla. Let's never fight again."

And then I'd melt into him and it'd all go back to normal.

And that's exactly how it went the morning after.

I woke up bright and early, while the sky was still dark, and walked the five minutes to Austin's house, even if the humid summer air stuck to my skin like a second layer. Even though I'd slept off most of my hangover yesterday, I was still exhausted. My muscles ached and the lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to me.

By the time I reached Austin's house, he was already waiting for me in the dim morning light, leaning against his red Jeep with folded arms.

I paused a few steps from him, the air between us sticky with summer heat and full of tension.

I spoke first. "Austin."

"Isla," he said after a moment. He shrugged, avoiding my eyes and pushing off the Jeep. "Wasn't sure if I should pick you up or not."

"Right," I muttered because I didn't know what else to say. We both shifted uncomfortably, and I dragged a hand through my hair, still damp and dripping from my morning shower. "Listen, Austin. I'm sorry for not texting you the other night. I know you must've been worried."

He sighed haggardly and, in two steps, had me pressed against his chest in a tight hug. His arms wrapped around me in that familiar way and instantly it was like we were six-year-old kids again, apologising after stealing each other's ice cream or calling each other bad words.

"No, Isla. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I – I just... I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," I breathed, patting his back. His grip on me tightened and he buried his head into the crook of my neck, my hair pressed between his face and my skin.

"You just never get that drunk, and then I couldn't find you anywhere and –" he cut himself off with a breath that tickled my skin and I shivered at the feeling of his mouth moving so close to my throat. "I was out of hand."

"It's fine, Austin. Really," I said gently. "It's over."

"I love you, Isla," he said. "Let's never fight again."

There it was. I laughed, pulling back to send him a teasing grin. "I love you too, Austin. Now let's go. I'm going to be late for work all because of your dramatic arse."

He chortled and I could picture him rolling his eyes at me as he rounded the Jeep, sliding into the driver's seat.

I followed suit, sitting in the passenger's and buckling my seat belt, my mind whirring with thoughts. A sinking feeling had taken root in my stomach after yesterday and only grown worse after we'd made up.

I looked at Austin out of the corner of my eye, wondering if he felt the same way. The sky had begun to lighten, turning a pale pink as the sun trudged its way over the horizon and bathing Austin in its pale light. His tanned fingers tapped against the steering wheel and he hummed along to the music. I raised a brow at him.

"What are you so happy about?" I teased.

He glanced at me, his face tinting pink, and sent me a shrug. "What? Nothing."