ROMEO | 18+

1.

♣ ♣ ♣

I S L A

IF ISLA HAS to describe how it feels to be in a euphoric state, she certainly would talk about this party.

She dances and dances until she feels knots forming along the lengths of her thick hair. She sings until her throat itches, and she laughs until her cheeks hurt from smiling too much. She doesn't give a damn about the world. Doesn't allow a single thread of negativity to burst into her bubble of happiness whilst her laughter echoes then fades into the loud bass of the music.

This party would have made the top five of the best moments she has lived this year, had it not been for what she has just discovered.

At first, she thinks she must be dreaming, must be so intoxicated that her vision can't quite focus on those hazy shapes she sees. She trips over her own feet, her head spinning whilst she supports her body weight on the door jamb.

And then, she blinks. Once. Twice. Three times until her vision isn't blurred anymore. Until she realises she isn't stuck in a dream.

"What the fuck," she mumbles under her breath.

The cup she was previously holding onto falls from her grasp, its content spilling on the floor and splashing onto her white Converses. But Isla doesn't so much as blink at the sensation of the fabric getting soaked. Because she can't bring herself to move. Can't even breathe properly.

You see, never in a million years would have Isla thought her best friend would betray her—not like this.

Well, can she really consider Emilia as her best friend? Sure, they're roommates, and they've been inseparable ever since Isla transferred universities two years ago. They talk on a daily basis, gossip whenever they get the chance to, go shopping every so often.

But best friends don't kiss each other's crushes, do they?

Isla doesn't feel as drunk anymore—not as she feels time deliberately slow down. Not as her mind gets clouded with turmoil she didn't want to feel tonight.

"Emilia," she breathes with a furrow of her brows. "You backstabbing bitch!"

The blonde opens her eyes, evidently startled as she pulls away from the tall, broad-shouldered brunet. Though their heated kiss has been interrupted, Emilia doesn't move away, doesn't unhook her arms from his shoulders.

"Isla? Is that you?" Emilia slurs, squinting her eyes.

Of course Emilia is making out in a dark room with the popular football player. Her blonde locks are disheveled, her lipstick smeared, and her skirt risen to the top of her thighs.

"Good observation," Isla bites out, venom coating the tip of her tongue.

"I—" Emilia blinks, but no words come out of her mouth afterwards.

Fuck her! She has always known about Isla's interest in Jack Cassidy. She has been gushing about him for months. Emilia has even encouraged her to go and talk to him as they have economics class together.

"Cat's got your tongue, Em?" Gods, molten rage is seeping through Isla's veins but she breathes in and out to remain collected.