Page 2 of Lassoed Love

As we talk, I become aware that the guys have now noticed Xavier had left them. Kieran, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, decides to dive in as the others run up towards us.

“Oi, look who’s on a mission! Coming to proclaim a ‘confession’ to the nun, are we?” he chuckles, shooting a wink in my direction.

“Piss off, Kieran. Stop calling her that,” she retorts, grateful for her comeback—while I just sit there stunned, averting his gaze.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t you agreeshe dresses like a nun? She’s probably never even hooked up with a bloke!”

The boys erupt in laughter, and Trent, not missing a beat, throws in his two cents. “That’s if she can even find one.”

Imogen, not about to let them run the show, steps in with a killer comeback. “Anyone who would even dare to kiss either of you are fucking fried. Who knows what diseases all you wankers are carrying?”

Xavier, caught in the middle of this teenage circus, throws his hands up, “Hey, I just came to ask a question.”

But Imogen’s not having it. “Please, like you’re one to talk. Just piss off, all of you.”

Xavier, now taking control of the situation, looks at me with almost a hint of apology in his eyes, cutting off any more attempts from the boys to crack jokes. “Right, well, thanks, anyway, Isla,” he says, then directs the guys off in another direction.

As they walk away, Kieran turns back around and does the sign of the cross, looking straight at me. “I’m praying for you, Isla.”

“Fuck off, Kieran,” I spit at him. Smug asshole.

As Xavier and the boys walk away, my eyes linger on them for a few moments, silently seething at those idiots. I fucking hate Kieran. My thoughts race, replaying the encounter in my mind. Xavier, however, approached me not to tease or make fun of me, but to ask a simple question. As I’m stuck in my thoughts, I notice that Xavier has turned back to look at me. What the fuck. What does he want?

I freeze and my heart drops.

My mind returns to my thoughts—for a moment, he stood over me,all tall and bulky from the sports he plays. I couldn’t help but admire his physique, the way it seemed to take my breath away, but not in a good way. His hair, cut short, almost like a buzz cut, made his piercing green eyes stand out even more. I quickly shake off these thoughts, the lingering sense of hatred returning. No matter how attractive I find that bastard, I’ll never end up with someone like that. They’re just pieces of shit, and as Mumma always says, ‘Darling, you have a heart of gold and an even better brain. Use it to do great things and don’t let anyone ever talk you down.’

I hate them all—feeling nothing but disgust for those boys. And to think, Xavier was actually coming over to talk to me. What a joke. That’s all I’ll ever be to boys like that.

Just a punchline.

I take a deep breath, pushing aside the conflicting feelings, and remind myself of Mumma’s words. Hatred won’t bring me down—it’ll only fuel my determination to prove them wrong.

Isla’s always been in the background, a quiet melody amid the chaotic symphony of high school life. I’ve seen her from a distance,heard her soft laughter, and watched her disappear into the shadows. But today, something’s different. There’s a pull—a gravitational force that draws me toward her. How did I know she was in Ferguson’s class last period? Well, let’s just say I pay more attention than people give me credit for. I knew I had left my bag in the classroom, just to have a lame excuse to go and talk to her. How pathetic am I?

Then the guys had to come in and ruin everything. Trying to fit in and laugh with them is exhausting. I can't stand them sometimes, especially when they go overboard with their lame jokes and antics. But they're a force of their own, and I'm not about to stop them in front of everyone. Screw it—I’m such an idiot.

During the little showdown, I couldn’t help but watch Isla’s reaction. She handled it way better than I expected, didn’t even bat an eyelid. Maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye—she’s definitely a little firecracker underneath that shy exterior.

My mind races, replaying the encounter. I approached her to ask a simple question, not to tease her. As we walk away, I can’t help but look back. Ah, so I’ve caught her eye, too. She is watching us, and when she notices I’ve turned to look, she looks away hurriedly. Interesting.

For a moment, my thoughts drift to her—sitting there, the way her curves challenge the typical high school norms. Her long brown curly hair, her passion for music and art. There’s something refreshing about her not following the herd. She’s different, and I like it. I’ll never admit it to the guys, but she’s gorgeous. Not the typical girl that usually makes their presence known around me, but that’s what makes her stand out.

As we move farther away, I try to shake off thesethoughts. I remind myself I’m not supposed to care about all this. Yet, there’s this curiosity, a fascination that lingers. I want her to know she’s more than what these idiots make her out to be, but I’m just not sure how to approach that yet.

I turn away, leading my mates in another direction, leaving behind the teenage drama circus. Maybe it’s time to find out more about the girl who doesn’t fit the mould.

1

Present

Fences - MelanieDyer

“CONGRATS BITCH! It’s not everyday you become an owner of an animal hospital at the age of twenty-seven years old in the span of less than a month,” Imogen urges way too excitedly for my liking, her strawberry-blonde hair catching the light as she dances around my living room. “Let’s go out and celebrate,” she exclaims.

The soft hum of cicadas fill the air from outside the open windows as I stand in my dimly lit living room, clutching the papers that officially declare me the owner of Wattle Creek Veterinary Hospital. How I managed to get to where I am now is beyond me. It feels like just yesterday that I was working in the city of Sydney, and now, here I am, back in Wattle Creek. The weight of the moment is palpable, a mix of pride and nostalgia tugging at my heart. Just a month back in Wattle Creek, and now I hold the culmination of my dreams in my hands.

My apartment, though modest, exudes a comforting familiarity that the city had never quite offered. Still, I stubbornly cling to my independence, refusing to succumb to the allure of the family farm out in the country, where my father lives. My decision to stay in town was met with scepticism on my part, and others, I’m sure, but it was a choice I had made for myself, and I was determined to carve my own path. Tonight, though, was about celebration, an acknowledgment of my achievement. Claire and Imogen, my best friends sincechildhood, were buzzing with excitement as they primped and preened in my living room.

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