#islahvnt

"I have to say..." hand waving down the length of her body, "If you ended up getting my date, I wouldn't complain."

Please don't let Thomas be here.

It was the same sickening thought he got every time he was at an event where the Rutherfords circulated, and seeing Isla didn't ease any of those tensions that were coiling in his muscles. His fists balled at his side, while his features remained passive, stoic. His feet were moving, checking over his shoulder to see his immediate surroundings until he reached her.

"Are we going to ignore each other all night?" He asked. Better to get straight to the point with someone like Isla. She wasn't exactly a sweet tooth kinda' woman. He'd learned that the hard way.

Where the fuck was she?

His hands ran through his hair once more, dropping his eyes to his phone in hand as a curse broke free from his lip. She wasn't fucking answering. He typed again, his third consecutive text within minutes as he saw the crowd swelling.

This was fucking bad.

You need to get out of here. Where are you??? Isla!

Looking up, spotting blonde hair and that familiar dress that had kept him captivated through the night, his feet were moving, dodging people as quickly as he could. He had minutes, if that before all hell fucking broke loose. "Isla." His voice ground out. "We need to go -- you need to go." he corrected, looking over his shoulder to find the rest of his people.

"You said you'd let me live vicariously through your spenny date," he paused as he took a slow drag on the joint, blowing small circles into the air around him as a laugh fell from his lips in playful satisfaction. "So spill."

He shouldn't have been looking for her.

Olivier had told himself only five minutes before he returned back to his date before he let her go altogether. He'd successfully dodged Thomas all night, even if their eyes had connected once across the room; familiar dread cooling his firey stomach.

Still, he found himself leaning against a wall, watching when he caught sight of her walking: he wasn't sure if Isla had seen him, hand snaking out to grab her upper arm.

They were both here with different people.

One she'd spent a date with and making out with on the Valentine's dinner. He'd gone home with Lisette, an old flame that had struck him stupid once before. It was all a little bit fucking much, if you asked Olivier, and still, his feet carried him to her.

Like a fucking magnet.

The late afternoon sun had cast long shadows across the quiet street as Olivier pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his neck, trying to ward off the chill that lingered in the air. The streets were nearly empty. Only a few passersby hurried home before the darkness fully settled in. It was that time of year when Autumn was at its peak and he loved it. Although he so often wished for the heat of summer.

Olivier's breath formed small clouds in the crisp air as he walked up the familiar street, somewhere he'd once spent most of his time. When they'd been tangled up in her bedsheets, murmuring sweet nothings as if they'd last forever. That their worlds wouldn't collide and pull them apart before they could become more. His footsteps echoed as he got closer to his destination.

As Olivier approached Isla's door, he hesitated for a moment, glancing down at his hands, unsure if he should have even been there. He knew he should turn around and walk away. But some part of him couldn't. A nervous excitement danced in his eyes, one that had been reserved for Édith recently. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he raised his hand to knock gently on the door. The sound echoed through the stillness of the street.

And then, he had to wait.