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cakesunflower · 2 months ago

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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 14

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

“Kegs have been secured, so we should be good for tonight,” John B announces from where he’s sitting on the steps of the pool, phone in hand as he shoots off some texts.

“Hallelujah,” Isla sounds blandly yet playfully, as she remains laying with her eyes closed on the floaty, enjoying the warmth of the sun against her skin.

“You’re not enthusiastic enough for my liking,” JJ’s voice comes from next to her and, before Isla can even open her eyes, the floaty she’s laying on is suddenly jerked and a shriek escapes Isla, which is silenced when she’s underwater.

She instantly closes her mouth so she doesn’t swallow any water, which roars in her ears and muffles the sound of her friends’ laughter as Isla pushes herself back up before breaking through the surface. “JJ! I’m going to fucking kill you!” she yells, pushing her hair back and wiping the water out of her eyes before she opens her eyes to glare at her best friend roaring with laughter. Kie is pressing her lips together at the other side of the pool, clearly trying to side with her sister but struggling to stifle her laugh.

“I was trying to keep my hair from getting wet, you ass!” Isla growls, tugging at the hair tie that had been keeping her hair up, but now the wet strands were making it hard until she was able to yank it out. No point in keeping it up now.

Now she’s going to have to wash her hair before the party tonight, and her scowl remains on her face while JJ remains grinning widely. “Just making sure you’re wide awake for tonight.”

Isla throws a few more colorful curses at him, but of course he only laughs in return until she splashes him. She swims towards the steps, walking when her feet can touch the ground and walks out of the pool. “Where are you going?” Kie asks.

“Getting something to eat. You want anything?” Isla asks, grabbing her pink towel and drying herself off as much as she can before wrapping the towel around her hips and securing it there. The metal of her necklaces feel cold against her skin, hair wet against the bare skin of her back thanks to the red bikini.

“Diet Coke, please,” her sister calls back.

“Oh, me too, girl!” Cleo adds on from where she’s laying on one of the poolside chairs.

Isla gives them a two fingered salute, slipping her feet into her flip flops and heads inside the Cameron house through the back French doors. Sarah’s parents are out at work and Wheezie is up in her room, Isla thinks, as she walks into the kitchen and heads towards the fridge.

She opens the fridge door, whistling a tune to herself as she digs through the various items to grab two cans of Diet Coke and puts them on the counter next to the fridge. Isla reaches back inside and grabs one of the chocolate pudding cups, her sweet tooth acting up.

She straightens, peeling off the top cover and dipping her finger into the pudding, scooping some up and putting it in her mouth, licking it clean and humming appreciatively at the chocolaty taste. And then a pair of large, warm, and familiar hands grip her bare waist right above the hem of the towel, and Isla instantly melts when she feels lips on her neck, a blonde hair ducking into view.

Isla’s pulse quickens, pulling her finger out of her mouth as she smiles and whispers, “My friends are right outside, Rafe.”

“We’ll hear anyone if they walk in,” he murmurs, his voice deep and low as he kisses her neck. Isla’s stomach clenches as she sighs contently and leans her head back against him, eyelashes fluttering when he nips gently with his teeth and soothes with his tongue. “I missed you.”

The breath shudders out of her, cheeks warming as she tries not to tighten her grip on the pudding cup lest she squeezes the pudding out of it in response to what Rafe is doing. “You saw me yesterday,” she reminds him through a breathless smile.

“Truth time? It’s getting increasingly impossible to get you out of my mind, Isla,” Rafe says, the heavy honesty in his words making her heartbeat seize for a moment.

He has the fascinating ability to render her speechless. Biting her lower lip, Isla turns in Rafe’s arms to face him, tipping her head back to look up into those pretty blue eyes with that gentle smirk dancing on his lips. “Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so romantic?” Isla teases, well aware her friends are right outside, but craving the warmth of his body as his arms loop around her waist once more. He scoffs out a laugh, his cheeks slightly pink, and it makes her grin as she places her free hand on his chest. “I think about you all the time, too, you know. It’s very distracting.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs quietly, smiling down as his gaze dips to her lips, the desire evident in his eyes. “Hope you’re not expecting an apology.”

Isla laughs and rises on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, sinking back to her feet when he leans into her, his hands at the small of her back to keep her close. Despite her friends being just outside, the kiss is slow, dragging, tasting each other and reveling in it.

“Okay, okay,” Isla breathes out, reluctantly pulling away from him and slowly opening her eyes. “Very risky. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Scandalous,” Rafe smirks, their moment at the beach flashing through her mind as she laughs breathlessly. As they pull away, both obviously hesitant as the space between them grows, the mischief remains in his eyes as they dip to the pudding cup. “You’re gonna keep that all to yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. She likes that as much as when he calls her baby. Giving an amused, close mouthed smile, she holds the cup out to him. But then he raises an eyebrow at her when their gazes meet, the expectancy obvious in his eyes, and Isla’s stomach dips as she instantly realizes what he’s—silently—asking of her.

Throat drying, Isla dips her finger into the cup, scooping the cold pudding, taking a step closer to him again and raising her chocolate pudding drenched finger, careful not to let any of it drip to the floor. A quiet, almost thrilled laugh escapes her as she rushes out, “Hurry, before—”

Rafe is swift. His larger hand wraps around her wrist, bringing her hand closer to him. His gaze is locked on hers and Isla’s thighs clench when Rafe wraps his lips around her finger.

Electricity explodes throughout Isla’s body, the breath stalling in her lungs as Rafe’s tongue slides around the digit, cleaning up the pudding that she scooped for him. When she becomes aware of her breathing, it comes out in labored pants, lips parting slightly as Rafe licks her finger clean in the warmth of his mouth. She feels the tightness travel between her legs, pulsing, breathing shallowing out as the smirk is reflected in those wicked blue eyes.

It’s over too quickly, though Rafe takes his sweet time in pulling his mouth off her finger, now clean yet shining with the sleek sheen of Rafe’s saliva. He slowly straightens, rising to his full height, looking down at her with heat darkening his eyes while Isla struggles to get her racing pulse to calm down.

She can’t process a single coherent thought, though she’s vaguely aware she’s probably standing there like an idiot, slightly open mouthed as she tries to get the world to stop spinning so wildly.

He’s totally going to be the death of her. And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it—and is proud of it.

“You should get back to your friends,” Rafe quips, leaning back and taking a step away, much to Isla’s dismay. But he’s right, even if she pouts and scrunches her nose in response, which only makes Rafe break out into a devastating grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Isla shakes her head, snatching up the soda cans and tucking them into the crook of her arm against her body while the other hand holds onto the pudding cup she won’t be able to eat now without picturing him. “Asshole,” she hisses, trying to bite back a smile as she moves around him and out of the kitchen, throwing him a grin over her shoulder at the last second before disappearing from his view. She swears she hears him chuckle.

*****

Five hours later, when the sun is gone and the moon has made her appearance, Isla is surrounded by drunk peers at the Boneyard. A few bonfires are scattered around, music playing and drinks being poured. Some take advantage of the kegs, while others brought their own drinks. Isla sits with her sister around one of the fires, her beer cup between her legs but the two of them more so enjoying the joint they pass back and forth.

The party started a while ago and Isla’s only one drink and half a joint in, but it doesn’t stop her gaze from wandering, looking for Rafe. She doesn’t risk trying to be sneaky by pulling out her phone and texting him, not with Kie sitting right next to her. So she just tries to enjoy the party, watching people play games or dance. Her immunity, so to speak, to weed keeps her from losing all of her faculties—unlike Sarah, who takes a few hits and gets lost in her own world filled with giggles.

The summer night chill is drawn away by the warmth of the fire, and Isla enjoys the sound of people talking and music playing mixing with the crash of waves on the shore. The salty breeze dances through Isla’s hair, tickling her cheeks as she passes the joint to her sister, slowly blowing out a puff of smoke as her gaze wanders.

Unsurprisingly, her gaze glances over faces familiar and not, smiling when she spots Pope and Cleo dancing as he twirls her around. Isla’s tongue pokes the inside of her cheek as she searches and is disappointed when she doesn’t spot Rafe. He had said he would be coming tonight, but Isla hasn’t seen him yet. She lets out a quiet breath, gazing wandering up to the sky as she distracts herself by counting the stars she can see. It’s not as though she and Rafe could even hang out closely whenever he comes, just admire each other from a distance and let their eyes do the talking without letting anyone in on their secret.

It’s a fucking pain to be in his vicinity and not being able to do anything about it. Her body craves being near his, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his body, the electricity of his touch and the flutter in her chest when she sees him smile. To feel all of that, so much, and not being able to do anything about it publicly yet. But soon. Someday. She just needs to figure out how the hell to break the news to her friends and when. Either way, she’s not sure she’ll be prepared for the fall out.

Straightening her head from being tilted back, she tilts it to the side and eyes her sister. The fire glows against Kie’s warm brown skin, the light reflecting in her eyes as she lazily eyes the joint between her fingers. As Isla welcomes the warmth in her own chest—from both the joint and thoughts of Rafe—she finds herself asking, “What’s stopping you from telling JJ how you feel?”

She watches as her sudden question registers on Kie’s face, but Isla couldn’t stop from asking. As she swims in her own feelings for Rafe, how this short time with him has thrilled her, made her happy, in ways she hadn’t seen coming, Isla finds herself wondering about her sister and the boy Kie so obviously likes. Kie and JJ are perfect for each other, balancing each other out when necessary, and it’s frustrating that they’re still dancing around the edge of everything.

Kie lets out a long sigh, head tilting back and as she uses her free hand to brush back strands of hair that escape the bandeau wrapped around her head. “I don’t know if the time is right,” she says lazily. “Don’t know if he’s ready for something like that yet. He’s dealing with some shit with his dad.”

Isla huffs. “He’s always gonna have shit to deal with when it comes to Luke. You might be waiting forever if you’re waiting on that,” she points out with an arch of her eyebrow.

Kie bumps her shoulder with Isla’s. “Why’s it so important to you, anyway?”

Isla pauses for a brief second, reveling in the haze of the weed that lightens her head, before she decides to be honest. “I want you to be happy. I see the way you two look at each other. Everyone sees it, Kie,” she adds pointedly, though with a gentle smile. “It’s only a matter of time, you know.”

Her sister throws her a look, one that is a mix between wary and bemused as she takes another hit. “What about you, huh?” Kiara counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re so obsessed with my love life, what’s going on in yours? Anyone keeping you busy?”

Isla pushes aside the way her heart skips a beat, Rafe’s face flashing through her head upon hearing Kie’s question. Somehow, though, she manages to keep her cool, her smile at ease as she gives a single shoulder shrug. “Nope. I’m just enjoying the summer with you guys before college starts.”

It’s a lie—a big one. It tastes a little bitter, but right now, it’s necessary.

Kie groans, face scrunching and throwing her head back before she shakes it. “God, please, summer only just started. Don’t talk about college.” Huffing out a breath, she says, “But I mean, come on—there’s a lot of potential out here, no?” She spreads her arm out, gesturing around them. “You could find someone.”

Except Isla already has, but Kie can’t know that. “I’m good,” Isla snorts out a laugh, pulse quickening for a moment. “You know me and my very particular tastes,” she adds jokingly.

And as if by some answer from the universe, Isla’s gaze catches sight of Rafe through the crowd of partygoers. She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, watching from a distance as he smiles while greeting his friends. The sea breeze dances through his hair and he, too, is by another bonfire that makes him glow in an orange-golden light. And there it is—the fluttering in her heart that comes wherever Rafe is concerned. She has to admit, it’s a new development in her life that she’s not at all upset by.

Taking the joint from Kie, Isla takes another long hit that she knows won’t do much, but it’s enough to keep her from launching off the log she sits on and go kiss her boyfriend. Her very hot, very secret boyfriend.

Isla’s neck tenses, physically stopping herself, and only reaching down to grab her cup of beer and taking a swig. She needs a distraction. She had been eager for Rafe to get here, but for what? They can’t be together, can’t dance, without her friends looking at her like she’s crazy.

If only it were easier.

But it’s not, so Isla looks at her sister and asks, “Wanna grab the others and dance?”

A lazy grin spreads across Kie’s face as she nods. “Hell yeah.”

Minutes later, they have found Sarah and Cleo, joining the groups of people in a mutually decided area that’s designated as the dancing area. Isla’s free hand is locked with Sarah’s, the two of them dancing to the beat of a Rihanna remix with Kie and Cleo, drinks in their other hands. The music makes a lovely cacophony with the rush of waves against the shore, people’s chatter joining in but slightly muted.

Isla’s not sure where the guys are—she wouldn’t be surprised if John B and JJ were caught up in a keg stand somewhere with Pope supervising. But as she twirls Sarah around, laughing, her gaze catches something through the crowd of people. Absently moving to the music, Isla brings her cup up to her mouth, eyebrows furrowing slightly over the rim of the cup as she sips while watching some girl get a little too close to Rafe.

An obvious Kook, by the looks of it. Rafe stands with his usual group of friends, and Isla recognizes the girl as Danielle Greggs, a girl who is closer to Rafe’s age. . . With very little space between the two of them. Isla narrows her eyes, somehow still absently moving to the music with her friends, and watches as Danielle laughs at something Rafe says, clearly swaying closer to him, and suddenly Isla’s chest burns. But then—

She watches as Rafe’s gaze flickers down to Danielle and, without drawing too much attention, takes a step away from her to add some space as he takes a sip of his drink. Isla takes a deep breath, warm satisfaction coursing through her when Danielle notices Rafe’s step back and a quick look of embarrassment flashes across her face as she looks away and brightens her smile while engaging in the group’s conversation.

Isla finds herself smirking, relieved at Rafe’s obvious display of loyalty, even if her own jealousy still brims. This—this part of a secret relationship is what severely sucks. Watching other people flirt with her boyfriend because they think he’s single, and not being able to step in and show her own possessive side. Isla tries to relax her tensed muscles, subtly rolling her neck as she forces her gaze away from Rafe. Even the sea breeze isn’t enough to cool down her heated skin that erupted at the sight of another girl flirting with her guy.

She’s yanked out of her thoughts when Sarah bumps into her with a giggle, and Isla’s eyes widen slightly in amusement as she keeps her friend upright. “I need another drink,” Sarah grins, looking at Isla and squeezing their joined hands. “Come with?”

Isla laughs, nodding. “Let’s go, babe.”

She lets go of Sarah’s hand only to throw her arm around Sarah’s shoulders, Sarah’s own arm winding around Isla’s waist as they weave around people to where the kegs are kept. Isla’s face scrunches when they pass by someone throwing up a few feet away, a friend holding the girl’s hair back, but they’ve all been there.

“Let it out, Stacy! Puke and rally!” Isla calls out to the vomiting girl, earning a chuckle from Emma, the girl who’s holding Stacy’s hair back as Stacy waves feebly before going back to puking.

“Oh-ho, that’s gonna be me by the end of the night,” Sarah laughs, her brown eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed. Isla has a feeling she resembles more or less the same as Sarah.

“Not if you pace yourself,” Isla tells her through a laugh of her own. “Drink some wa—”

“Sarah, hey.”

Simultaneously, both Isla and Sarah roll their eyes in exasperation, though Isla doesn’t stifle her groan before muttering, “Here we fucking go again.”

They don’t stop, but are forced to when Topper appears in front of them. Isla presses her lips together when she feels Sarah’s arm squeeze around her waist. The wind tousles Topper’s blonde hair as he gives Sarah that half smile that Isla thinks he probably considers charming, but to her it’s just an indicator that he’s about to make a fool out of himself again in front of Sarah.

“Hi, Topper,” Sarah returns, considerably less enthused, as she brushes her hair behind her ear with the hand still holding the empty cup.

Isla’s lips twist to the side, her patience immediately wearing thin. How does Topper not notice how Sarah would rather eat sand than have a conversation with him? Is he truly that oblivious—or does he just not care? Never mind the fact that she’s been with John B for a year now. It’s about time Topper lets the candle he’s still holding for Sarah blow out.

“How’re you doing?” Topper asks her, not even glancing towards Isla, as if she’s not there. Which is fine by her because she could give a shit about being acknowledged by Topper Thornton, but his obsession with Sarah doesn’t just piss off Sarah and John B—it annoys their friends, too. Come to think of it, how is Rafe even friends with him?

“Good, good,” Sarah answers, always polite, offering a close-mouthed smile that doesn’t at all meet her eyes. Isla wonders if Topper notices or cares. It’s just embarrassing at this point. “Isla and I were just getting another drink.”

“Oh, cool, I’ll walk with—”

“Jesus Christ, Topper,” Isla cuts in, groaning as she throws her head back before straightening to glare at him. This time, he finally looks at her, that idiotic expression on his face. Isla gives him a look of her own, as though he just drooled on himself. “She’s not fucking interested—hasn’t been since she dumped you. When the hell are you gonna move on?”

From her peripheral vision, she sees Sarah pressing her lips together, no doubt trying to stifle a laugh. Meanwhile, Topper’s expression quickly transforms into an annoyed glare. “I don’t think this conversation involved you, Isla,” he says evenly with a lift of his chin.

Isla scoffs, her mouth curving up in a sardonic smile. “Thank God for that, because I don’t think Sarah wants to be involved in that conversation, either,” she counters. A glance at her friend tells Isla that Sarah is definitely trying to smother a smile. With a shake of her head, Isla says to Topper, “Dude, just let it go. She’s not into you. She’s moved onto bigger and better things—”

“What’s happening here?” John B suddenly appears out of nowhere on Sarah’s other side. But his gaze, hardened, is fixed on Topper, who immediately straightens, like he’s trying to puff out his chest.

Isla glances at Sarah, who suddenly looks like she has sobered up now that John B has made an appearance. Isla can’t blame her for that, because whenever John B and Topper are in the same space, people need to be on their toes because no doubt a fight may break out.

Gaze darting, Isla tries to see if JJ or Pope are nearby—preferably the latter, because while JJ is more liable to join in on the fight, Pope would try to pull John B away. Isla watches as John Be steps in front of them, staring down Topper, whose chin lifts as he says, “Nothing, man. Just chatting.”

“Okay.” John B gives a single dip of his chin. Isla, standing behind him, can’t exactly see his expression, but she knows there’s that special glare on his face that he reserves just for Topper. “Find someone else to chat with. Not my girlfriend.”

Oh, Isla sees the flash of anger in Topper’s eyes when John B utters the g word. No doubt rubbing salt in the wound that Sarah left Topper for John B, but who could blame her? Then again, Isla may be biased since John B is one of her best friends, but whatever.

But that anger that Topper shows has him switching gears, Isla realizes, when he scoffs and spits, “You know, it’s only a matter of time she leaves you the way she left me.” Isla feels Sarah stiffen, while her own eyebrows slant down in a glare as Topper steps up to John B. The air is immediately tense with the anticipation—or dread—of something about to happen.

Over the sound of the party, Isla hears John B scoff. “When are you gonna let that go, man? It’s embarrassing at this point,” he says, giving voice to Isla’s own thoughts from seconds ago. “Move on—and back the fuck up.”

Those last few words are harshly spoken because Topper had, indeed, stepped up to John B. Around them, Isla can see others taking note of what’s brewing; everyone knows fire is bound to erupt when John B and Topper get into it. “Oh, God,” Sarah mutters next to Isla, her grip around Isla’s waist loosening as she takes a step towards John B, her hand reaching out to gently fist the back of his shirt. “John B—”

“Why’re you getting so defensive?” Topper asks John B, arrogantly tilting his head to the side. At this rate, more and more people are gathering, watching the scene unfold. When Isla glances past Sarah to her right, she sees JJ and Pope shoving their way to the front, Kie and Cleo right behind them. The girls look unsurprised about this confrontation, though wary, and while Pope looks like he’s trying to calculate the fastest way he can pull John B away, JJ looks like he’s ready to jump in and join.

Topper’s mouth curves up into an almost cruel grin. “Is it ’cause you know it’s true?” Isla’s jaw clenches, and then Topper goes for the killing blow with a scoff. “Once a whore, always a whore, am I right?”

That does it.

Isla has a split second to pull Sarah back from John B, the blonde yelping in surprise as Isla yanks her away from her boyfriend, right when John B lunges forward and cracks his knuckles against Topper’s jaw. Gasps sound from the surrounding crowd, Isla’s eyes widening and holding Sarah’s hand as she tries to go after John B, but Isla doesn’t want her friend to get caught in the crossfire as Topper recovers and goes after John B.

“Shit,” Sarah curses as Isla moves her to the side, watching as John B and Topper crash onto the sand, fists flying viciously. “Topper, get off of him!”

“You son of a fucking bitch.” John B’s words are spoken through gritted teeth, in between punches thrown at Topper. He’s on top of Topper, one hand gripping the front of Topper’s shirt while the other throws another punch. “Keep her name out of your mouth, you fuck.”

“Oi, stop them!” Isla hears Cleo say, glancing over to see her talking to Pope. “They’re gonna kill each other!”

“My money’s on John B,” JJ says from the other side of the crowd from where Isla and Sarah are, looking far too entertained to put a stop to what’s going on. By the sight of his lazy yet excited grin, he’s not too worried about stopping the fight.

Somehow, through the struggle, Topper ends up on top of John B, and Isla’s heart drops to her stomach when she sees with widened eyes that Topper has his hands around John B’s neck, right on top of his bandana. And Topper’s grip is tight, judging by the way John B struggles, his face turning a dangerous shade of red to purple.

“Oh, my God,” Sarah panics, fear stricken.

“Topper, let him go!” Isla yells, muscles tight as she stops herself from launching at the blonde to pull him off. “You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Her heart is racing, pounding in her ears, but it’s as though those words trigger JJ, because suddenly he’s there, too. He grabs fistfuls of Topper’s shirt and yanks him back, JJ’s teeth obviously gritted as he uses all of his strength to shove Topper off and onto the ground. He falls on his ass with a heavy thud, but isn’t down for long.

“Oh, you want some too, Maybank?” Topper taunts, getting to his feet.

John B is gasping for breath, Sarah racing to him after she breaks out of Isla’s grip and crashing to her knees next to her boyfriend, fussing over him. Isla’s gaze is wide and darting, going from John B and Sarah to JJ, who shouts at Topper, “Think you’re forgetting this is our side of the island, Top! You can fuck right off back to Figure Eight.”

Isla crouches on the other side of John B, wincing when she sees the bleeding cut on his lip and the discoloration already starting on his jaw. Sarah, meanwhile, goes back and forth from worrying about him and admonishing him for getting into a fight, her panic still evident as John B calms her down while trying to catch his breath at the same time.

“Oh, God,” Isla mutters, catching Sarah and John B’s attention. They follow her gaze ahead, to where now it’s a confrontation between JJ and Toppers. People surrounding them are either egging one or the other on, or recording on their phones.

Isla bites the inside of her cheek when she sees Rafe and Kelce break through the crowd to get to the front, behind Topper. She watches as Rafe’s narrowed eyes find Sarah, looking as though he’s searching her for any sign of injury, before his gaze locks with Isla’s. She widens her eyes at him, gaze flickering to Topper, a silent plea for Rafe to pull his friend back.

In the past, Rafe has always been eager to jump into a fight against Isla’s friends; it’s one of the reasons why JJ, John B, and Pope hate him, and it’s as good of a reason as any. But it’s been months since her friends and Rafe physically got into it, since before she and Rafe started seeing each other. And Isla hopes that tonight that streak isn’t broken. It’s not as though she doesn’t have faith in Rafe, because she does. But as much as she loves her friends, Isla is fairly certain that they won’t have an issue picking a fight with him.

She sees Rafe’s jaw clench, his chin subtly dipping once, and a semblance of relief pours through Isla to know that Rafe is on her side on this. But the situation needs to be deescalated fast, because Topper sneers at JJ after hearing his words. “Yeah, your side of the island,” Topper scoffs with a shake of his head, that sardonic smile back on his now bruising face, since John B had gotten some good hits in, too. “But you freaks took our girls, didn’t you? First Isla and Kie—” Isla stiffens when she hears her name, noticeably catching sight of Rafe’s eyes narrowing even further, this time at his own best friend. “—and now Sarah. What, the girls here aren’t good enough for you Pogues? You gotta take what’s ours and screw them, too?”

Isla’s face scrunches up at his gross words, exchanging a look of disgust with Sarah, who looks like she’s wondering, for the hundredth time, how she dated Topper in the first place.

“Take what’s ours?” Oh, no. Isla freezes, watching wide eyed as Kiara steps away from the crowd and storms up to Topper, shrugging off Pope’s attempt of trying to pull her back as a look of indignation fires up her dark eyes. Even JJ is suddenly not very interested in Topper, looking at Kie and putting an arm out to keep her from getting too close to Topper. “Could you be more arrogant? That is some disgusting patriarchal bullshit, Topper.”

Isla rises to her feet, watching raptly to see if she needs to step in and pull her sister back, despite the truth of Kie’s words.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, here we fucking go,” Topper groans with a roll of his eyes before shooting Kie an irritated look. “This has nothing to do with you, Kie.”

“Um, you mentioned my name, so it kind of does,” Kie snaps back, taking another step forward, JJ right next to her as Isla’s heart thumps. She’s hoping that as shitty as Topper is, he wouldn’t lay a hand on a girl, but tension still tightens Isla’s muscles. Her alarmed gaze flickers to Rafe, who is watching with that same look of concentration furrowing his eyebrows—but he’s also slowly approaching where Topper stands. Kie, however, isn’t done. “Just because you haven’t moved on from being dumped, doesn’t mean you can come here and pick fights just because your pathetic ego is hurt.”

As much as part of Isla wants to cheer at Kie’s words, her heart jumps to her throat when that previous anger flashes across Topper’s face and, to Isla’s horror, he narrows his eyes and takes a step towards her sister. Isla finds herself instantly moving forward, too, JJ growling a low and warning, “Hey,” at Topper and the threatening step he takes towards Kie.

But then before anyone else can do anything, by the time Isla has reached Kie’s other side, Rafe is right behind Topper, his hands gripping Topper’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, man,” Rafe says to Topper, his voice calm yet Isla detects the thread of edge creeping into his tone. Topper stops in place under Rafe’s grip, and Isla inhales sharply yet quietly as Rafe forces Topper to take a step back, his gaze on his friend. But Rafe’s eyes—she’s seen that look in his eyes, previously directed towards her friends. Rafe is pissed. “Forget about it, alright? Let’s get out of here.”

Isla’s narrowed eyes watch Topper’s jaw work, her heart thumping wildly and having practically forgotten about the audience around them. But they’re all silent, watching, as Topper finally raises his hands up and takes a step back, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Fine, whatever,” Topper scoffs, shaking his head as he shrugs Rafe’s hands off of him and turns. But not before muttering, “Fucking Pogues, man.”

Isla watches as Rafe watches Topper go and join Kelce, before Rafe glances back at Sarah for a split second, who has helped John B up to his feet. Rafe’s gaze then flickers to Isla and she presses her lips together, offering the slightest bit of a grateful smile. She wishes she could hug him for pulling Topper away, from putting a stop to this before Topper went after JJ and, worse, Kie.

But he gives her the tiniest of smiles before he turns and goes, and Isla feels stuck either way, between him and her friends, with one foot in both worlds and wishing they’d collide sooner rather than later.

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