ROMEO | 18+

2.

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I S L A

     "THIS IS LITERALLY your third coffee of the morning," Nora says as Isla plops down onto the seat beside her.

"Yes, and?"

Nora's brows raise, astonishment flickering in her gaze. "You're in a bad mood today. Care to explain why?"

Taking a sip of her beverage, Isla closes her eyes whilst letting the bitter taste of coffee consume her system. She then puts a thigh atop the other, leaning back into her chair whilst burying her free hand into the pocket of her wool cardigan.

She lifts a finger up, foam cup still in her grasp, and huffs. "First of all, I'm hungover. Second of all, I don't want to be here."

"No one forced you to come to the game," Nora snaps.

"Luca did," Isla grumbles. "Stupid hockey games."

"You used to love them," the blonde seated next to her whispers, melancholy vibrating in her dulcet timbre.

"Used to," Isla repeats quietly, avoiding her sister's stare. "I'm just here because he dragged me out of bed."

"No," Nora corrects, "It's because it's one of his most important games of the season and you never show support."

Isla doesn't reply. She knows Nora is right—she always fucking is. Isla doesn't even remember the last time she was sitting behind the penalty box or tapping onto the glass whilst yelling at Luca to block the puck.

It's been too long since she has felt the coolness of the arena swirl along the outline of her jawline. She hasn't heard the sounds of skates scrape and blades glide across the ice in years. Rubber pucks whizz through the air after being slapped by composite sticks. Players float around; some stretching out, some warming their skates by glissading around the rink, others firing shots at their goalies—who, in this case, is Luca Presley.

A wave of nostalgia pushes at her heart, and she doesn't look up when she feels her brother's gaze upon her.

"What's with you and spending the night home, anyway?" Nora asks, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

That's also something she has missed—the smell of buttery popcorn, the loud chatter echoing which she can't quite decipher despite it being all around, the cheers of the crowd when their favoured team enters the rink.

"The house was closer than the campus," Isla states blandly.

She simply did not want to go back to her dorm and face Emilia in the morning. What a shit stunt she pulled last night.

She knows she'll have to talk to her at one point—but not right now.

Luca had woken her up in the morning. Begged for her to come see the game. Being too tired, her brain too fogged up by her short night of sleep, she accepted to attend the event—much to her dismay.

"Sure," Nora snorts. "You hate sleeping in your old bedroom."

"Yeah, well, it was either that or call a taxi whilst being smashed," Isla snarls bitterly.