by Elena Monroe
My thighs had this dull ache, and those invisible goosebumps ran down me, creating a heat wave as they traveled along my body. I wanted instant gratification, not the torture Oliver reveled in.
“Oliver, that’s not funny. Don’t torture me,” my voice whined, but I was begging him for more of him. His hand moved deeper between my thighs.
Oliver gave me another squeeze, looking at me instead of the road in front of him. “You think this is torture? Torture is fucking all the wrong people, while I wait for you to come along.”
My eyes started to water, and the ache jumped from my thighs to the organ in my chest. I ached everywhere for him. Giving up on my previous mission, I decided to let my curiosity run wild. “You seemed better with your dad. Did you get to talk?”
I could see the discomfort clearly, as he shifted in his seat against the leather. “No, he yelled like normal. I don’t know, he was trying to be fucking nice at dinner—saving face. Can’t have a fucked up adopted kid and be an asshole parent.”
I knew he was just skimming the surface, but you couldn’t push Oliver and expect answers.
“You okay?”
He responded quickly, “Took it like a champ.”
His words always affected me without trying. I went from turned on, to utterly loved, to a kind of sadness that only made me hate his dad more. He’d only ever used the phrase once before when he told me about how his dad use to put his hands on him. I knew that’s what he meant now too. I couldn’t take back the horrible moments of his life, and the hopelessness I felt was threatening to make me throw up.
I leaned down and slipped off my heels off. The smooth black stilettos, belonging to B, were choking all my veins. My arches were not used to being manipulated this long. I brought a pair of Converse for this exact escape in freeing my feet. The relief was instant as my foot flattened out.
“Where are we going again?”
He turned down Lil Peep bumping through the speakers. “A bar you have some history with. You’ll see. They have the best burgers.”
My phone buzzed in my lap more than once, and I flipped it over. I never added a name for Hunter, only emojis eluding to a hunt for a fox as my own inside joke. I read the message: You looked beautiful tonight.
I could feel my cheeks flush, and I instantly swiped the message to the left to delete the entire conversation. He was pushing Oliver, not me, by sending that message. I was used to ignoring his antics. Oliver didn’t have the same patience I had for the relentless.
The bar was packed, cars lining the curb and people standing outside. I suddenly felt very overdressed to be at a college sports bar. I stopped outside of car, looking down at myself, self-consciously drawing attention. Caden waved me over to his parked Cadillac in front of Oliver’s Porsche along the curb. Hayley reached through the seats, plucking a shirt and ripped jeans from the trunk, as she started shaking out of her dress safely blocked by his tinted windows.
She was fearless, but maybe it was the anger I was noticing. She was always angry.
Caden handed me a black gym bag I unzipped slowly, seeing Oliver’s clothes I normally wore.
I felt Oliver’s breath against my ear. “Don’t change out here.” He was being protective, even though I wasn’t nearly as fearless as Hayley.
Hayley snickered to herself. “Like she would ever grow enough of a backbone to do that, please.”
I watched her crawl through the seats and emerge from Caden’s small apartment sized trunk. I felt the anger rise up inside me, behind my lungs, threatening to crack each one if I didn’t speak up. “What’s ’your problem with me?”
Whatever it was needed to stop here and now.
Hayley laughed, like she always did in the midst of confrontation. She found it funny when anyone else displayed strength, because it would never live up to the idea of her strength.
She wasn’t any more than two inches from my face, when she hissed, “You’re weak… that’s my problem.”
She didn’t bother explaining as she walked by me with a swift should check. She didn’t even care if I had anything to say.
“I’m weak? You aren’t even out of the closet!”
Caden slid into the growing space between Hayley and I, trying to calm the thick tension we always had for each other. “Hey, let’s relax. Let’s not get personal.”
I understood him defending her; that was his closeted friend I was poking with my angry stick.
She turned around quicker than I expected when she closed the gap and pushed against Caden’s hands. “You fucking bitch. Nothing about you is out of the closet! Why is Hunter here Layla, huh? You’re too weak to even stand up to the guy who raped you. Instead, you let Oliver beat his ass for you, and you’re hurting my best friend in the process.”
Her anger and resentment for me went back further in the alleyway. It started when I arrived on campus, and B forced her way into new friends, dragging me with her. She stopped showing up to things and I wondered if similar feelings were why.
This time, there was no moisture in my eyes. I was shaking, trying to contain the anger behind my ribs, but every word she said only fed it.
Caden wasn’t holding me back. He underestimated me, like everyone typically did. I took a step towards her, teasing her with how close I was, but still out of her reach. “Why don’t we stay on topic? Are you upset Hunter transferred schools, or that Oliver never fought for Elizabeth?”
I was so close to Hayley that I could see her brown whiskey eyes turn into muddy waters instead. “You mean, did you fuck Hunter, and does Oliver still love Elizabeth? Just say what you mean, Layla. Stop being weak and innocent.”
Something about the word weak made me snap in a way only she provoked—a way she provoked once before and yet she still used the same tactics that Hunter did in high school.
I pushed Caden’s arm from between us; this was between her fearlessness and my new-found bravery.
“This isn’t even about Hunter or Elizabeth; they don’t matter. This is between you and I, so stop trying to act tough when we both know you’re just jealous. I’m becoming more myself every day, while you’re stuck hiding who you are from your family and even yourself. I may not be morally bankrupt like you, but I’m not going anywhere. Better get used to me.”
I pushed by her, letting my shoulder bump into her, sending her into an unbalanced tizzy in the wake of my new-blazed trail.
I didn’t agree with Hunter being here, but in a way, I had all his harassment and torment to thank for preparing me for those mistaking my quietness for weakness.
I walked into the bar, past the bouncer, who simply moved out of my way, instead of stopping my epic storm off, like I thought he would. I threw my body over the bar demanding the bartender’s attention, as I felt a hand at the bottom of my back: Oliver.
I ignored his hand. “Water, please.”
If I didn’t ignore him, my anger would spew all over him, just for getting in the way, not because he deserved it.
I came to terms with Hayley never liking me and nothing I could do to change that fact of life. It still bothered me, not any less or anymore—the same amount of bother. I wanted to change a lot about my life that was beyond my control: my mother being more maternal; my dad wanting a family; my sister being my partner in crime, instead of a stranger, who thought I was a burden; being the child I should have been, instead of an adult too early; and so much more. Hayley was just the latest stacked on my pile of past problems I was learning to let go of.
Hayley sat down on the barstool next to me, ordering a vodka soda with ease. Everything she said was with ease, even the jabs normally thrown my way.
“It’s not a matter of not liking you. It’s about not trusting you,” she said.
I looked at her hard, and her face was permanently stoned into this scowl I must have learned from Oliver. I stayed silent, waiting for the empty apology she’d surely give me because Caden or Oliver was making her.
“I liked Jade. I liked Oliver�
�s dad. I liked my parents. I liked all the wrong people. I stopped liking anyone a long time ago. It’s unpredictably betraying. I have to protect these people—the ones who never betrayed me.”
Suddenly, her treacherous ways made sense to me. Maybe this time I was listening instead of snapping back.
Caden coughed an unsubtle, “Say you’re sorry…”
It didn’t go unnoticed when his shoulder bumped into her body, as she sipped her drink, avoiding the one thing I could tell she didn’t do often. Oliver used to tell me the same thing: “I don’t apologize.”
She choked it out, and I watched the remorse poison her mouth.
I looked at Caden and Oliver, annoyed at how hard they were listening when I asked them, “Some privacy? Please.” I sat down, becoming level with her and ready to wipe our slate clean. We both loved The Cure but had too much turmoil between us to be civil. The boys walked away, with Caden pulling Oliver behind him.
I let my hand touch her arm, as I leaned into her, so she could hear me over the loud music playing. “I wanna start over. You don’t have to trust me. We can work toward it, in time, but we kind of need to be able to be in the same room.”
My maturity and reason came out in abundance, when, really, my body was shaking with anger. This was how betraying my body always was. Whatever I wanted to be, my body hid it down deep in the name of responsibility.
She laughed, like she knew what I said was obvious, the part about her not trusting me. “So you like The Cure, huh?”
She took her vodka soda and made her way to the guys, who were at a booth, ordering mountains of fries, as we slid in on opposite sides. This bar felt cozy in the same way Intuition did. I couldn’t put my finger on what part about it made me feel at home… They didn’t sell coffee, but the ambition and camaraderie swelled in the room, like the weight of a plush comforter out of the dryer.
My eyes met a familiar face: Maddison. She was still looking meek and timid, with a look of questioning concern still stuck to her beautiful features. She asked to sit down with a “may I” instead of a “can I”—somewhere, her mom was very proud. I wondered how they ended up together, the extent of their relationship, gauging all the unknown into solid answers from her. I didn’t push or mean to overstep, but the unknown wasn’t something I welcomed or did well with.
Aspen hit Caden’s shoulder as he slid in. “Thanks for waiting, asshole.”
“They were serving diet-size portions. I needed real food, man. I’m worse than some basic bitch when I’m hungry.”
I found that hard to believe, when his body was a work of art. His abs were toned and skin bronzed. He stood out as a temple of dedication—the opposite of indulgence.
He jabbed Oliver quickly after, “You going back to the gym any time soon, Ollie? Looking a little soft…”
Their relationship seemed strained in a different way than his and Aspen’s. Now that I was witnessing the exchange of jabs, I realized all of his relationships were strained in some degree. With Aspen, it was his inability to sympathize and accept a watered-down version. With Caden, they battled for dominance, even though they were equally loved and equally essential to this group.
“Me? Soft? Says the guy fucking the same girl for how long now…?”
Caden turned towards me. “Might wanna cover your ears… loyalty and all.” He leaned back, scanning the room, pointing to different girls, before telling Oliver, “I had a busy break.”
He smiled big, proud of his accomplishments in the form of half the bar. I didn’t feel any guilt or anger, like I probably should have, since he was still fucking my best friend.
She obviously didn’t tell him about her break either. She had been busy too, with her high school crush/seemingly forever fling.
The boys took some fries and headed towards the old arcade games, leaving me, Hayley, and Maddison alone at the table. We picked at the fries, as I let my curiosity talk for me.
“So, Maddison, you and Aspen… back together?”
She looked down, before letting herself smile. “No, I think we just needed to talk and not let this be the elephant on campus. I mean, he’s great; it’s just not really possible.”
Hayley twirled her straw in her short glass of clear liquid. “Because of your parents?”
Maddison’s cheeks turned a scarlet red, like an instant sunburn at the mention of her parents. She didn’t respond, clearly embarrassed and avoiding any eye contact.
Hayley knew the same struggle with overbearing parents who didn’t allow you the freedom to be yourself. “I get it. He did almost kill you. I’d be pissed too.”
All the empathy, sympathy, middle ground was ripped from the conversation with her attitude. I wondered how she was with her girlfriend; I couldn’t imagine some softer version. Maybe their relationship wasn’t the kind that made you softer, but harder. That’s what Oliver did for me.
I had too many questions to tackle in one night. I was still taking in all the information and processing it down into understanding. That’s all I ever wanted: to understand everyone.
It was the first time I saw Aspen sober, but with the same remittances of the drunk version I knew better. It felt like I was getting to know him all over again. He was laughing, smiling, and even joking with the guys.
Caden picked up a random girl, and I wondered what that meant for B. Would that affect friendship? Would he vote her off the island? And why did Aspen give him so much money?
Oliver was quiet, like normal, and he hadn’t ordered another drink since the two rounds of scotch. He seemed like he had espresso—energized instead of his sullen display of not giving one fuck. He was talking a lot more than normal and showing people his laugh—the one I held captive as mine. He was happy. I’d trade his laugh for this happiness to be mine instead.
I leaned into him with my hand on his chest, whispering into his ear. “Can we go somewhere?”
My whole body still ached for him.
He smirked, tossing a fry into his mouth, before responding. He toyed with me, “Why would we do that?”
My hand slid down from his chest, sitting perfectly under the table in his lap. “…because I’m done waiting.”
He didn’t give anything away to the company around us as he glanced down, letting his hand squeeze my hand I had resting on his thigh. The almost sheer button up was taunting all the ink that covered his body again, making my eyes dance, and I couldn’t help but picture him without it.
That was the thing about Oliver, he could make your panties wet an hour ago, and you’d never be satisfied until he let you. He was comfortable letting himself suffer for the greater good.
I wanted to whimper when I pushed my hand up his thigh, easily brushing his bulge I was responsible for. Oliver made this small victory feel like winning a war. I felt empowered and proud. I made someone as experienced as Oliver ache.
I leaned up whispering in his ear, completely fueled by desire and my new victory. “Bathroom?”
He only glanced in my direction, but his eyes were cloudy, and his tongue smoothed over his lips at the suggestion.
I pushed away from him and slid out of the booth without a word, even though I was pretty sure the boys were aware of what was transpiring before them. My legs quaked as I stood up, trying to walk to the bathroom without suspicion on my face, or excitement. My panties never dried from seeing Oliver adjust his sleeves and rip his belt off with a kind of aggression I liked in his bed. Part of that aggression was seeing Oliver come undone in a way that seemed like surrendering.
Another victory.
The bathroom was thankfully a single. As I pushed the door open and inspected the surroundings, I only then realized what my suggestion meant: a dirty, sports bar bathroom. The ache between my legs burned off any disagreement left, as I wiped down the countertop.
The heavy door creeped open, and Oliver appeared, still calm, collected, and not nearly as tortured as I felt, as I looked him over in the mirror in front of me.
He lau
ghed, a real laugh. “Only you wipe down counters we’ll ruin anyways.”
His fingers coaxed the lock to snap loudly, confirming no one would mistakenly enter. One big step in my direction and I felt Oliver behind me, without pressure. I wanted to turn around, but I was mesmerized as I watched his hand snake down me and plunge between my legs.
I never got the chance to change my clothes before and had only slipped his hoodie over my dress. I watched intently, as his long fingers pushed between my thighs and the tips of his fingers rubbed along my panties clad-slit. My mouth fell open, as I relaxed into him more.
I felt his breath against my ear, and I closed my eyes, letting myself take in the relief. “Watch yourself come, Layla.”
I couldn’t help it when my ass instinctively pushed back into his groin, as his fingers pushed the lace fabric of my panties to one side. I felt how hard he was against my ass and wondered how much strength it took to remain dedicated to fingering me when he could be inside me.
“Oliver…” I sounded breathy and desperate, but I didn’t care.
At the same time I felt his fingers finally push inside me, he huskily whispered, “‘Oliver’ nothing… You’re gonna watch yourself come because of me.”
I felt my ass grind into him at the same time I was practically riding his fingers inside me. My eyes didn’t leave the mirror in front of us. I watched my hips sway hypnotically glued to every one of his movements. I felt everything in me tingle in that familiar way I knew as a mounting orgasm. My mouth never closed, and I didn’t stop breathing heavily, as I rasped out his name in a plea to stop toying with me and let me come.
His lips stretched into a smirk. I bit my lip, realizing his fingers were stretching me into the same position.
He withdrew his fingers from deep inside me, and I watched his mouth wrap around them, tasting me. He ate me up, exactly how he ate up the rest of me, greedily, at his own pace.
“Not yet, Layla.”
I let my head fall back against his shoulder in complete anguish. My chest heaved, as the wetness now dripped down my inner thigh, and Oliver was so amused I contemplated making him suffer too. He kissed my neck for the first time since the marks disappeared that Hunter left on me. His voice sounded softer, “Turn around.”
