Chapter 8: Chapter Five-2

I can taste the sauce of the Chinese food on his tongue as the kiss deepens. His hand continues to move up my thigh and soon, his fingers are rubbing against me. I suddenly jerk my head away, startled. We had made out, but he hadn't done that before. This was the first time, since Miles, that I have kissed anyone sober. I always felt much more confident whilst drunk, so it was taking me a bit of time to get used to how forward Bentley is. "What?" he asks, a dirty smirk on his face. "Nothing, I'm just-" I blink a few times, trying to gather my thoughts. I have been thinking that Bentley will only be satisfied with make out sessions for so long - but I'm not ready to give over myself to him. The last time I was prepared to do that, I was left hurt, confused and alone. I need to know Bentley a little better, before handing him a part of me that I can never take back. "Cold. I'm really cold." His eyes narrow for a moment, before he nods. "Yeah, it is cold and it's getting late." "It is," I agree, quickly getting to my feet. After throwing out the empty containers, I follow him to the car and climb in, greedily waiting for the warm air. The trip home is much quieter than the way there, but I don't really mind. I like sitting back and watching him drive, while I listen to the hum of the radio in the background. "Thanks for dinner," I say to him when he pulls up at my car. "I had a good time tonight." "Me too. I'll see you tomorrow?" "Yeah," I smile, before leaning in and stealing a brief kiss from him. "Goodnight." "Goodnight, Isobel." Once I'm back out in the cold air again, I run to my car, seeking the warmth it holds. After sliding in behind the wheel, I plant my keys in the ignition, before turning the key. A strange, groan sound emits from my engine. "What the...?" I say to myself, trying to start the car again. After swearing loudly and hitting my steering wheel a little too aggressively, I jump out of the car and stomp around to the front, popping the hood. I've never had a problem with it before, I have no idea why it would be doing it now. Using my phone light, I try to figure out what the hell is going on, but realistically, I am clueless about cars. "Might go better if this was connected," a smooth voice says behind me. I whirl around, to see Miles holding something in his hand. "What the hell?" I exclaim. "Did you break into my car and steal that?" "I didn't break into it." "How did you pop the hood?" I demand, folding my arms across my chest. "You had your spare key tied underneath the car." "And how did you possibly know that?" I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. "Because your mum does the same thing. I remember when we went to Dreamworld, Finn lost the car keys, she said it was alright because she always kept a spare underneath the car." "Well aren't you intelligent," I say sarcastically. "Why did you do that to my car?" "I wanted a chance to speak to you." "Did you follow me?" He shrugs. "You're a psycho," I growl, jabbing my finger at him. "This is stalking." "I just wanted a chance to talk, considering your brother's army won't let me anywhere near you." "Yeah, I wonder why," I deadpan. "Put that thing back in my car. Right now." "Is," he says softly. "I'm really, really sorry for what I did. I don't think you understand just how sorry I am." I close my eyes and lean back onto my car. "An apology eighteen months later doesn't change or justify what you did." "I know. I would have apologised sooner, if I could get in contact with either of you." "You seemed to find my number pretty easily." "Only because I asked around. No one even knows who you are, where I was living before." he explains, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his dark hoody. There are bags under his crystal, blue eyes. The stubble on his chin has grown into more of a beard, making him seem even older. I hate that I still want to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, just like I used to. I hate that he makes me wish I could forgive him and have him hold me, again. "Okay, so you wanted to talk to me, to apologise, right?" I ask him. "Yeah." "Okay, you've done that. Can you return that thing to my car now?" He exhales. "Are you ever going to forgive me?" "It's not just me, Miles," I snap. "Even if I happen to forgive you, you still have Finn and my mum to worry about." "You're the one who matters." I feel my heart clench. I look to the ground, blinking furiously. I have wanted to hear him say these words to me for so long and now he finally is... I hear the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as he strides towards me. He slides a finger underneath my chin, tilting my head back, my eyes meeting his harsh, blue ones. "Forgive me," he whispers. "Please Issy, forgive me." His warm breath fans my face and his scent washes over me. It's still the same as I remember. Before I can stop it, a tear rolls down my cheek and my bottom lip begins quivering. His thumb slides across my cheek, capturing my tear. "Don't cry," he murmurs. Soon, tears are falling down my cheeks rapidly. I shove him backwards, hastily wiping at my face. "You can't just say these things to me!" I cry, hating myself for showing weakness. "I hate you." "No, you don't." "Yes I do!" I yell, crying even harder. "I hate you so damn much. I don't want anything to do with you." "That's a lie." I bury my face into my hands as I continue to cry. I hiccup loudly, feeling mortified that I'm breaking down in front of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs. He began to walk to me again, but I jerk back. "Don't." I warn, trying to see him through my blurry eyes. He presses his lips together, before going to my car and reconnecting the part that he took out. It takes a few moments and while he did that, I desperately try to pull myself together. "You can spend the rest of your life hating me, but I'm back and I'm here for good. You can't pretend I'm not." "I can try," I whisper brokenly, my voice raspy, my eyes stinging. "That would be a shame," he tells me, before turning and walking from me. I stand there, watching as he retreats, his darkly-dressed figure disappearing into the shadows. I hop into my car and press my hand against the steering wheel, repeating his words over and over in my mind. That would be a shame. Yeah. It would.