Why did he feel as if he was the one breaking her heart all over again? Shit. He couldn't bear to see her cry. As she wailed, her miniskirt rode up her thighs, above the red band of her panties. She tugged the skirt down, choking on her sobs. Craig reached out, and with one swift pull, moved the skirt back to her thighs. As his fingers grazed her skin, she jerked away from him.

"Don't fucking touch me," she growled.
"You can see it, for all I fucking care. Just like you've seen every other part of my heart, and thrown it away."

She propped herself up, then rose to her full height. Once she was standing, she flung his coat at him. Isla's lungs were burning. Afire.

Craig shuffled his feet under his coat. When he stood up, he towered over her.

"I'm getting out of here. Do whatever bloody shit you want with your girlfriend's body," she spat.

Just before she slipped past his reach never to return forever, he seized her by the waist. The last time he had her hemmed in his hold, he cuddled her. This time, his stare burned into her cleavage. His cock was as hard as a rock, and his senses reeled.

"Can I kiss you?" He pleaded.

"Yes. Kiss my fucking ass, best friend."

He lowered his head to hers, slowing down his breathing. Her nose brushed his. He tucked a strand of her curls behind her ear, never taking his eyes away from hers. She paled significantly. Dear Lord, what the fuck was happening? A bubble rose in her chest as his face inched closer.

"Look at me,"he prompted. His voice was music. Damnit, he was singing to her, and she loved this song of his. She leveled their gazes for the first time that night. Her eyes widened, and her lips formed a silent "wow."

"Good girl." He stroked her jaw with his thumb.

Her cleavage heaved up and down. Fuck. Had the temperature outside risen? Was he getting hotter?

Then his lips came crashing down on hers, and it was like she was riding the waves on the sea, being plunged deeper into the water then coming up again. He nibbled at her bottom lip, tugging her closer by her waist, the air between them pumping with sexual frustration. He savored the taste of strawberry on her tongue, kissing her with every fiber in him. He pushed her up against the bark of the tree, never taking his lips from hers. Then, he moved his hands slowly up her sides, taking her breath away.

"Jesus. If only you sound as sweet as you taste, Isla," he whispered, " You should have seen the look on your face. It was priceless. Besides, you can consider that my make up kiss, since I suck at apologies, and probably won't get round to saying I'm sorry."

She groaned. What did she just hear? Did he mean__ did he mean that he believed her? She sighed and pried his chest further away. The wind rushed between them, and the sudden chill numbed her senses. She wanted him back, to be in his arms again.

"Say something, please. Anything," he begged.

The smug look on his face was fading. He loosened his arms around her waist. Her top was a few notches away from her nipples. He tore his eyes from them with difficulty.

"Please. Say something." The whisper of his plea was carried by the wind. Still, nothing.

She cupped his face in her hands, smiling.
"Stop freaking out. Did you believe me?"

His eyes were shining.
"Hell, sure. I'd do anything for you, Isla. Just say the word."

The smile on her face froze, and her gaze darkened.
"Good. Then stop kissing me because I'm taken. And stop running after me each time you sense something is wrong, because for me, your sympathy will never be enough."

That was all he even had to offer. Sympathy. Sympathy that couldn't take away her pain. Couldn't do anything to her but make her shed tear after tear till her eyes were dry and her throat hurt from crying. He gulped and nodded. He was ready now to release her. Craig was tired of fighting, because this was a useless battle. Only then did he feel his neck wrenched roughly backwards, and the cold blade of a knife digging into his flesh. Air gushed out of his lungs as he crumpled to his knees. His blood froze.

"Sorry, mate. It doesn't quite work like that."

The knife dug deeper into his neck, and he gasped from the shock of the pain.

" P__ Peter?" he stuttered in between gasps.

"I'm telling you this, and I'll say it only once. Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend."

Craig craned his neck to get a look at Peter's face and knew that he was in terrible shit. His eyes were cold sheets of ice, and his jaw was set.

You don't get it, Detective Thompson. He's a demon whenever he wants to be. Ruthless.
Craig's own words haunted him, as Peter glared at him from under layers of blond hair peeking out at the sides of his face. The temperature had dropped even lower. Peter grinned at the sight of blood trickling from Craig's neck unto the knife, before dripping down and sinking in the grass.

"I could break your neck cleanly, mate, and let you drift off to la-la land, which I recommend as the way to go. Or I could play with you a bit."

Holy crap.

" Do yourself a favor and answer me correctly. Did you kiss her?" Peter snarled.

Craig struggled to stay still under the tip of the knife. His eyes were drooping shut from the loss of blood. Peter's eyes gleamed wickedly.

"Y___ y___ yes." Craig choked in Peter's hold.

Everything was woozy, and his head felt like sandpaper.
His opponent jammed his fist into that spot in his neck, sending him buckling to the ground, coughing up blood. Craig was slammed against the ground, and a sudden gush of wind blew over his body.

"You did yourself that first favor. Now it's time for mine. Never, ever get your stupid ass within Isla's range. Ever again. I spared you this once. Next time, I won't be so kind," Peter spat.

After considering it for a moment, he did spit on Craig's bloodied mess of a body. The latter hobbled on his knees, gasping for breath. He brought his fingers to his neck and pressed them onto the gash to restrain the blood from flowing.
"Bloody shit. I'm bleeding like a stuck pig," he muttered.

"Stay away from Isla Dehler. Forever. Promise", Peter lifted the knife to jab it into Craig's ribs again.

"Promise!" He yelled into the cold night air.

Craig shuddered and whispered, "I fucking promise. Just let me go."

His gaze flickered to the knife in Peter's hand, and he instinctively shrunk back on all fours, towards the parking lot, past Isla, into the cold night. He glanced over his shoulders at Peter one last time, then hobbled on his knees as fast as that could carry him away from the beast.

"Fuck him," Isla said under her breath as she took off her shoes in the living room.

Some bottles of wine still sat uncorked on the center table. And the chocolate fountain was still flowing. She plopped her finger into the stream and brought it to her tongue.

"Hmm. Lovely," she hummed.

Then she slapped her palm on her forehead. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The house was empty. Where the fuck was the maid?

"She'd better not take one of those damned leaves of hers. My poor hands, they can't wash no dishes," Isla mused.

"Maid? Maid? Come wash your damned plates," she sang, clapping her hands.

Her phone buzzed.

From Peter: Settled in? I've taken care of the asshole, luv.

To Peter: Yeah xxx. And I'm as bored as hell.

From Peter: You know I could come over if you want me to. I don't want any more bitches coming near my baby tonight.

Isla grinned. Three dots appeared on the screen; he was still typing. Now that was the kind of guy she liked. Bold and fearless. The kind of guy that would shield her from trouble, and messed up whomever dared to mess with her.

From Peter: Hands on heart, you're ok? I hope our little drama back there didn't bother you.

To Peter: Nah, I'm good. About to go to bed.

She yawned. Then waited for his reply, which didn't come until she was done brushing her teeth and changing into her pyjamas. When she curled up in a ball under the duvet, the image of Craig limping on his knees towards his car flashed before her eyes.

"No." She clutched the covers. "No, I can't think of you, bastard."

But the images grew more vivid, and she heard the splosh of his blood on the grass all over again. His face was contorted in pain.

"No!" she screamed, wriggling under her sheets.

"Go away." Her lower lip quivered, and she covered her head with her pillow, wishing the images to disappear.

She didn't want to see Craig's pain. She didn't want to be reminded of the fact that Peter had inflicted such wounds on him, and all she had done was nothing.

"Please!"she cried."Leave me alone! I didn't stab you, please." she jerked from one side of the bed to another, squirming in agony. Her phone buzzed under the covers.

From Peter: I hope you dream of us together, Isla. I love you. ❤️

Her eyelids became heavy, and she yawned again, gradually zoning out. Then all became black.

The week passed by in a haze. Isla went shopping for a new pair of pink sneakers, and caught up with Peter on FaceTime. In the evenings, she huddled in the living room by the fireplace, trying to make sense of her pre-med textbook.

"I'm ready to fail. Our teacher hates me as hell, anyways," she mumbled.

Then she sipped from a cup of black coffee, snuggling her hoodie. She'd read and read and read. Anything to escape from Craig. She unfollowed him on Instagram, blocked his number on WhatsApp. Anything to get away from him. Anything.

Peter didn't bring up Craig in their chats because he was scared of getting on her bad side. Then came the day of their first paper. She'd stayed up all night, poring over pages of her thick Chemistry textbook. She might fail, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Her alarm clock went off,

Sweat dripping from my body
We both at this party
So come and show me your moves
I got some things I can teach too

Groaning, she hit the snooze button and read some more. Ten minutes later, the clock was jarring again.

Isla sighed,
"Oh well," and dashed to her bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in her pink turtle neck over blue jeans, finished off with the pair of pink sneakers. Another fifteen minutes later, she was pulling into the driveway of Bright Wood High in her blue Ferrari.

"Hi, girlfriend!" Winter chirped, waving at her.

Whatever else Winter claimed to be, she was best at being Isla's hatchet woman.

Isla rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the car, clanking her keys in her bag.

"Hey. My last party was a blast. Oh, I forgot, you weren't there."
She pouted."Sorry babe."

Winter moaned, "Come on, it isn't my fault. Hunter invited me to his baseball game last week. You know it would be unfair of his girlfriend not to be there."

She patted her brunette hair that had streaks of red, green and yellow strands in it, then fished out a compact mirror from her bag.

"Whatever." Isla waved away the matter."Hurry up. I've got a Chemistry exam to fail."

Winter threw back her head and laughed. Once they settled down in the hall, Isla scanned the seats for Craig. Come on, he must be here somewhere, she mumbled, her stare darting back and forth. Then the invigilator pasted an ABSENT sticker behind Craig's seat.

"Psst," she whispered.
The invigilator glanced at her less than hopefully.

"What's wrong with him?" She tried to sound nonchalant.

"His mother called the school this morning. Said he's in a coma. Seems like he had a ghastly accident yesterday." The invigilator sighed.

•••••••••
••••
••

Here's the second update as promised! I'm heaving a sigh here myself XD.
So, I introduced two new characters ; Winter and Hunter. TBH, I didn't plan to include them in the story but I guess they just had to appear:-)
Who likes them? What's going on in your beautiful minds, cupcakes? I want to hear everything! 😉

Please, vote if you like what you've read so far.❤️❤️