Isla

9.5.

9 . 5 | bonus chapter

EVERETT'S POV

I LEANED AGAINST THE PORCH RAILING, glancing at my phone for the fifth time. The sky was already light, the sun high above the horizon and turning the air sizzling hot.

And Isla still wasn't here.

I frowned, scanning the road and looking for her bike. She was late. She was never late, and yet today she was.

It was my fault. I'd said something stupid last night.

Second choice.

I groaned, my head falling between my hands. Why had I said that? Why did I have to go and open my mouth?

Sure, the alcohol had been buzzing through me and I'd been irritated. Irritated about being at a party – like the parties Emma used to drag me to. Irritated about how fucking hot it was in this town. Irritated about the girls around me – or more accurately, the girl who wasn't around me.

Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Isla out of my mind. Even when five other half-naked girls were squealing over my accent and dragging their nails over my chest, all I could see was Isla, standing with River.

But I shouldn't have said that.

I glanced at my phone again and released a loud breath. She wasn't coming. And I didn't even have her number to text her.

I tapped against the porch railing, my mind drifting. She never missed work. And yesterday, she'd left the bonfire without me. What if she never made it back?

I shook my head, shoving the thought from my mind. No. She was angry about what I said. That was all.

I groaned, running my fingers through my hair and glancing at the road once more.

It wouldn't hurt to check, would it?

I turned, pushing the door to Clemente House open and entering the chilled lobby. My grandma stood behind the counter, organising the bookings for today. I walked up to her, leaning over the table and grabbing her attention.

"Everett," she blinked. "What are you still doing here?"

"Isla didn't show up," I said frowning. "Do you have her number?"

"Her number?" she paused, humming and tapping her chin before shaking her head. "No. I don't believe so."

I sighed, tapping a hand on the table when she lit up. Her lips pulled into a smile, her smile lines digging into her wrinkled skin and her eyes glimmering brightly.

"I have her address though."

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Forty minutes later, I was reaching the top of the little hill that her house sat on. The sun was bearing down on my back, turning my skin slick and making my shirt stick to my chest. My hair flattened down on my forehead and I ran my fingers through it, pushing it off my brow.

I wasn't sure why, but my blood was rushing at the sight of the little white house sitting at the top of the hill. I paused in front of the door, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. I tugged at the collar of my t-shirt, loosening it over my body, and ran another hand through my hair.

After a breath, I lifted a hand to knock on the door.

"Coming!" a shout sounded – so similar to Isla's voice, but with a touch of maturity that she lacked. A patter of stumbling footsteps came from behind the door, the sound of slamming things onto tables and kicking things out of the way, until the door was ripped open.