Chapter 2: Boiling Point
The bucket dropped to the ground, droplets of icy-colored water splattering everywhere. Isla had stopped breathing. The culprits coughed fiercely from the white dust. They both scrambled to stand up. One, Isla recognized as her ever-rowdy neighbor, and the other guy, a tall, lithely muscled blonde. Isla wasted no time as she walked up and harshly grabbed onto the stranger's shirt collar. He let out a sputter of protest but didn't resist the hold, guilt or perhaps shame etched on his face. Isla glared at him.
Isla didn't want to waste her time on the man. Not when the major offender was right there. Isla shoved at the man's chest instead, asking in a dangerously low tone, "Get out!" The man, whom she guessed was George's friend, wasted no time scrambling out of her room back into George's, and home he ran.
Then Isla turned her death glare to George. He was still on the floor, dust and rubble covering his bald head. His chocolate brown eyes were as bright as ever as he gave Isla a nervous smile, scratching his head sheepishly. "Hi... dear... neighbor. Fancy meeting you here."
Hearing him speak, Isla snapped. She kicked at the downed George. He yelped like a puppy but made no move to get up just yet. He looked a bit frightened. "It was an accident!"
She towered over him, placing a leg at each side of his body, preventing the man from escaping. "You crazed moron! Look what you did!" She gestured wildly at the wall.
George spared a glance then looked back at her sheepishly. "Sorry?"
Isla bent to grab his neck in a chokehold, cutting his air off. "Sorry? You idiot- is that all---" George didn't seem to like being strangled.
His sheepish expression morphed into something almost threatening. "Hey! Stop yelling at me like that! I said I was sorry, let go, crazy woman!"
Crazy woman? Did he just-- She couldn't have heard right. "Did you just call me crazy?"
He pushed himself backward and away from her hold, gingerly getting to his feet. "Well yeah, it's just a wa--" He didn't get to finish, as in the next second, he got an armful of a rabid lady. No amount of the self-defense training he had undergone in the force for years could prepare George for the wild woman who attacked him. "Hey! Calm down!" George yelled when she kicked him in the shin.
He caught the first arm that swung at him, and the other when she sent it to replace the other. Trapping her hands between them, he desperately hoped she wouldn't get the utterly wicked idea of kicking him in the balls.
"Ow!" A sharp bite to his chest had him letting go of her like he was burnt, and Isla lunged at him again, throwing punches, scratching, and even trying to bite George again. He did his best to block most. He was stunned and secretly amused to see her this way, this beautiful, perfect English-speaking lady who carried herself around here like she was superior to all of them. He had completely rattled her perfect composure.
As Isla moved to throw a kick at him, her foot skidded on the blue drops of liquid in the bedroom, and she began toppling to the floor. George rushed to grab her, but he too stumbled over a piece of debris, managing to catch himself on his arms just in time to avoid crashing into Isla. His hands landed on each side of her head instead. Thanks to the foam tiles that covered the floor of her room, their fall was cushioned.
Both stared intensely at each other, trying to catch their breath. Despite the unbelievable situation, Isla found herself once again admiring his features. The man made quite a picture: panting with exhaustion, his bald head shiny with sweat, his mesh singlet tousled, tiny specks of crimson blood from nail markings coloring his skin. The bloody nail markings made her cheeks color with shame. She had absolutely lost her control.
He chuckled.
Isla blinked in mild surprise. Did all this just amuse him? When he flipped himself over to the floor beside her, he chuckled again, shaking his head from side to side this time. Isla couldn't help the short laugh that escaped her too.
Soon, they were laughing as if they'd just heard the best joke. In the two years she had lived in this apartment, this was the first time she'd laughed so hard.
Their mirth gradually subsided, and she watched him curiously as he sat, an arm balanced on his knee while he picked up one of her novels at the foot of her bed.
"You write?"
"You read?" She asked instead, genuinely curious.
He scratched his head, grinning sheepishly and Isla couldn't wondering how a grown man could be utterly adorable and sexy at the same time. "Yes... no. Unless you count manga, big books creep me out."
Isla snorted in amusement, a little disappointed, but she guessed that's why he intrigued her so much. He was so different from her, it annoyed her and made her curious at the same time. And he was straightforward. Many people would have pretended that reading was their favorite thing in the world just to impress her.
"Go out with me."
The words were so quietly spoken Isla felt she couldn't have heard right. "Huh?"
Jaw set in a determined line, George repeated, "Go out with me. Neighbors say we argue like a married couple so heck, why not?" He rushed, rubbing his scalp again. Isla guessed that was a nervous habit, but the thought didn't distract her for long. Her head was woozy in an effort to comprehend what he had just said. She felt heat in her cheeks and a tingly sensation in her body, but Isla was a master of self-control when it came to men, especially those that screamed heartbreaker like this guy. He had already been flirting with her from day one, and if that didn't scream womanizer, she didn't know what did. She had met his type once, and it almost ruined her life.
Her answer came then. A simple "no."
"Please? I am serious, I want to..."
She cut him off. "Why? Why do you want me to go out with you? We have only known each other for like three months, during which you have been so irritating. So if you mention love now I will kick your butt." She stood up, dusting her body of the white dust from the broken wall. Her room was a mess, light blue droplets of liquid everywhere. She heard George stand up as well but didn't look at him. She would have to call in a cleaner to help--
A startled gasp left her when fingers abruptly enclosed around her wrist and jerked her around to meet George's angry face.
If there was one thing that George hated more than anything, it was someone telling him that what he felt was wrong or misinterpreted, or anything in that line really. As an imperfect human, George was wrong about a number of things sometimes, but his feelings and instincts were never wrong. It was one thing that made him an expert in his field.
Among all the things he had felt in his lifetime for different people and different issues, what he felt for this feisty lady before him was new, and he was smart enough to know what it was. Smart enough to know that he wanted this woman as much more than his neighbor.
"You want to know why I am asking you out?" He husked, his face just inches away from hers. Her heartbeat sped up, a mix of excitement and fear. What was he going to do to her?