Page 9 of Her Ruin

The once-skinny adolescent had grown into her frame, slim but far from boyish. Her figure was lean and graceful, but there was subtle strength in the way she carried herself. The tailored pants emphasized the curve of her hips while the soft, voluminous blouse only hinted at the fullness beneath, leaving just enough to the imagination.

Her dark-brown hair was in a high, sleek, and professional ponytail, making her high cheekbones appear more angular in her oval face. I watched her as Rye led her around, her eyes taking it all in. Her sharp intelligence was evident as she studied the club.

I saw the exact moment Rye told her she wouldn’t be hosting any events here. Her eyes narrowed on him like a hawk narrowing in on prey, sharp and unrelenting. Rye didn’t flinch, but I got the distinct impression she would have relished seeing him squirm under her glare. That look—sharp, cutting, and utterly disapproving—was one I was familiar with. I’d been on the receiving end of it from her more than once.

Julian Turner was a friend of mine, and where Julian went, Isla inevitably followed. They had always been a package deal. Julian had a talent for finding fun, was easygoing, and was quick to laugh. Isla, however, was the sober counterpart to his chaos. Sensible, somewhat quick-witted, and unafraid to put her foot down, she brought an air of authority even as a teenager. It was a quality Julian lacked. I’d learned quickly that her approval was hard-won, and I’d never tried.

I knew she was an event planner. I hadn’t expected her to show up at Elixir so soon, but Ihadexpected her eventually. Isla Wells wasn’t the type to let an opportunity slip past her. She was determined, almost relentless—qualities I could respect even if they tended to make her unpredictable. And even though years had passed, I couldn’t shake the memory of the night when she first took me by surprise. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

It was another high-school party. I was bored, but the house was buzzing with bodies and noise, and everywhere I turned, every corner seemed to be brimming with energy. I was in the kitchen, half listening to some jock tell his friends how sweet his girl’s pussy was. I wanted to tell him it was as used as she was. She wasn’t sweet; she spread her legs for anyone, a fact her jock boyfriend didn’t know. I was contemplating telling him she was a shit lay because I was bored and looking for something more exciting than my barely touched beer.

Just as I put my beer on the counter, I saw Isla march into the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and her look was determined. I automatically looked for Julian, but seeing he wasn’t there, I looked back at Isla.

Her cheeks were flushed, not from alcohol—I doubted she drank much back then—but from agitation. Her eyes locked on to me with clear purpose. I watched her as she approached me, her arms wrapping around herself uncertainly, completely contrasting with the look in her eye.

“Can I talk to you?”

I almost looked over my shoulder despite knowing there was nothing but a wall behind me. “Why?”

Isla bit the corner of her lip, but she reached out to me, and her hand tugged at my arm. “I only need a minute.”

Curious, I followed her, ignoring the taunts from behind me. Isla either didn’t hear them or chose to ignore them. She led me through the crowd, ending up in a dimly lit corner of a hallway. She opened the door, and I followed her into a small bathroom.

“How’d you know this was here?” I asked while Isla pushed the door closed and locked it. I looked at her with my eyebrow raised.

“I tutored Maria in freshman year.”

“Of course, you did. So…what do you want?”

Isla planted her hands on her hips and almost stunned me to silence with one sentence. “I need you to kiss me.”

“What? Why?”

Isla blinked. “Just do it,” she snapped, stepping closer, her determination vibrating off her like static electricity.

She barely reached my chin, but damn, if she didn’t make me feel like she was towering over me. Gently, I pushed her back. “You drunk?” I asked even though I couldn’t help the smirk that was tugging at my lips. “Where’s Julian?”

Isla’s glare intensified. “I can’t find him,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “And I need to do thisnow. The game’s starting, and—”She cut herself off, letting out a sharp breath of frustration at having to explain herself. “Can’t you just do it?”

“Tell me why.” I leaned back against the door, crossing my arms as my eyes deliberately raked over her. Her loose hair framed her face, and her dark lashes fanned over slightly upturned hazel eyes. With a straight nose and bow-shaped lips, objectively, she was far from ugly. She was the type of girl who would get more attention if she didn’t have her nose in the air. But that was just…Isla. Julian’s no-fun, all-business friend.

“What’s the game, Is?” I asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Her jaw tightened, the blush creeping up her neck betraying her frustration. She stood there, trying to match my nonchalance, but the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her blouse gave her away. She was nervous though she’d probably bite her own tongue off before admitting it.

“My name is Isla.” She studied me, quite obviously debating how much to tell me. “Seven minutes in heaven.”

“Fuck. What age are you? Twelve?” I laughed. The sound echoed around us, and the corner of her eye twitched. God, she hated it when I laughed at her. “You’re serious?” I asked, straightening up.

“Don’t make this a thing, Zayn,” she snapped, her brows knitting together in that frown I was so used to. “I’m playing. Period.”

“It’s a game for kids.”

“Ugh! Fine! You want to know why? I’m seventeen and never been kissed, okay? Julian said he’d do it if I was determined to play. He said he’d help me so I’d know how to…you know…kiss.” Her cheeks were bright red, and she wouldn’t meet my eye. “But now he’s disappeared, and—”She pointed at me dismissively. “And you’re here. So…will you?”

I laughed again, full and unapologetic. “Wow. Thanks. Now I know where Turner fucked off to. He’s hiding from you.”

Her glare could’ve set fire to the room. “I’m not asking because I want to. I’m asking because you’re here, and I need this. But this isn’t about you; it’s about me. I don’t want to be the girl who’s never…who doesn’t know what she’s doing. Or because you’re too much of a coward to help me.”

---