by Alex Grayson
“I don’t want any fucking water.” He tries to get up again. “Where the fuck is my whiskey?” At this point, he’s slurring so bad that his words are all running together, making it difficult to understand what he’s saying.
“Your whiskey is gone. You drank it all,” she tells him, making sure he’s going to stay sitting before straightening her posture. She turns toward me, cheeks flushed and eyes full of concern. “Can you stay with him for a minute? I need to get my phone and call Zayden.”
The last thing I want to say is yes, but knowing I can’t say no, I nod, watching her leave the room moments later.
When I glance down at Oliver, his hazy eyes are looking up at me, a drunken smirk tugging at his mouth.
“You’re really pretty.” He laughs to himself.
“And you’re really drunk,” I state the obvious, cursing myself for letting his compliment have any effect on me whatsoever.
“That may be, but you’re still pretty.” He reaches up and grabs my hand. He tugs, and I fall into his lap.
“Oliver.” I attempt to stand, but he holds me in place—surprisingly strong for how inebriated he is. Honestly, it’s a wonder he’s not puking or passed out. Or both.
“And you taste really good, too.” He nuzzles his nose against my ear, causing little tiny bumps to break out over my skin.
I will not let this man get to me. I will not let this man get to me. I will not let this man get to me.
“Oliver.” I try to get up again, but to no avail.
“I wish you didn’t hate me. Why do you have to hate me so much?” He wraps his arms around my middle and hugs me to him. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but I also can’t deny the warmth that spreads through me.
“I don’t hate you.” I give up fighting, sitting board stiff in his lap.
“You do. Everyone hates me.” He drops his head to my chest, a half laugh, half sob sounding from his throat.
No matter our bad blood, I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” I pat his head like a dog I’m scared to touch.
“It is. And they should. I’m a fucking piece of shit,” he grunts, the words barely audible.
“You’re not a piece of shit.” The words feel like sandpaper in my throat. They’re definitely not words I ever thought I’d be saying to him. But it’s clear he’s really drunk and upset about something, and I’m not one to kick someone when they’re down. No matter who they are.
“You’re just saying that. You hate me more than anyone.”
“That’s not true. I don’t hate you.” I look up when Rylee enters the room, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “Help me,” I mouth to her, not sure what the hell to do.
“Yeah, it’s bad,” she says into the phone, no doubt to Zayden. “And I’m pretty sure he’s holding V hostage now.” A hint of a smile graces her face.
“Did you know my mother is fucking my uncle?” Oliver’s head pops up abruptly, his half-cocked eyes meeting mine. “She’s an uncle fucker.” He snorts. “Oh, and she moved all the way to Tennessee without telling her only son.” He laughs loudly like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard—but there’s also anger there. Anger that he’s trying really hard not to show.
I look up at Rylee, who only shrugs, clearly having no idea what he’s talking about. “He’s talking about his mom leaving,” she says into the phone. “Yeah, I think you should.” She pauses for a long moment. “Okay, see you soon. I love you.” Moments later, she ends the call. “Zayden is on his way,” she tells me, looking from my face to my body that’s currently being held captive in Oliver’s lap, back up to my face. “Um?” She gives me a confused look.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I huff. “Maybe you could help me,” I mutter to my best friend.
She covers her mouth to muffle her laugh before nodding.
Taking a seat next to Oliver, she tries to pull his arm from around me, telling him that Zayden is on his way. Unfortunately, Oliver has other plans, because as she tries to loosen his grip on me, he tightens it significantly, nearly squeezing the breath right out of me.
“Oliver, you have to let go of Savannah now,” she coaxes him gently.
“I was wrong.” His gaze swings to her. “Everything I did. To you. To Z. It was all fucking wrong.”
“It’s okay. We’ve been over this. It’s in the past,” she reassures him.
“I blamed him. I blamed your mom. I blamed you. And the whole fucking time it was her. It was fucking her.”
“What was her, Oliver? What happened?” Rylee asks, handling him with kid gloves. Not that I blame her. His behavior is bizarre to say the least. Who knows what might set him off at this point.
“I just want to forget, you know? I want to take it all back.”
“Forget what? What are you talking about, Oliver?”
“Fuck.” His hold on me releases, and I waste no time clamoring to my feet. When I glance back down at Oliver, his head is resting against the back of the couch, his arms slumped at his sides. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, his head bobbing as he looks over at Rylee and then up to me. “I’m sorry for everything.” He holds my gaze for a long moment before his head drops back and his eyes slide closed.
9
OLIVER
“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.”
I crack my eyelids open, intending to shoot my best friend a glare, but slam them closed before I can. With a groan, I throw my arm over my eyes for added protection against the head killing bright light.
“Fuck off,” I growl. I smack my lips together. Why the hell does it feel like I ate cotton? “And close the fucking curtains while you’re at it.”
“No can do, brother. It’s past eleven, and it’s time for you to vacate my girlfriend’s couch.”
I manage to slit one eye open just enough to see Zayden standing at my feet. Right before he plops down on my legs, I bend them.
At the mention of Rylee’s couch, memories of last night slam into me like pins being hit by a bowling ball.
Getting drunk off my ass in hopes of forgetting my mother’s betrayal.
Showing up at Savannah and Rylee’s place.
Seeing the pitying look on Savannah’s face as I held her on my lap and sang my woes to her.
Apologizing again for the things I did to Rylee and Z.
Shoving my hands against the cushion beneath me, I hoist myself around so I can throw my feet to the floor. I groan when my stomach churns and a sharp pain hits my head.
“Fuck me,” I grumble and lean my head against the back of the couch. My eyes slide closed, but it only marginally helps my queasiness.
“Here.” I roll my head and peek open my eyes. Zayden’s holding out a bottle of pills and a glass of orange juice. “Figured you might need this.”
Over Zayden’s shoulder, I spot Savannah and Rylee in the kitchen. Rylee has her back to me as she cooks something on the stove. Savannah’s at the bar and her eyes keep darting in my direction.
I grab the bottle and glass, and clumsily open the former. Half of the tablets dump into my palm when I tip it to my cupped hand. I toss back two and chug the orange juice before I put the rest back in the bottle. When I lean forward, I notice the blanket that’s still over my lap. What a fool I must have looked like sleeping under a pink flowery blanket.
“What’s going on with you, Oliver?” Zayden asks, leaning over with his elbows propped on his knees, turning his head to look at me.
I grit my teeth at the reminder of my fucked-up life.
“Apparently, it wasn’t my father who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants while he was married. My mother was the one, spreading her legs for my uncle. And to top it off, it wasn’t the first time she’s had an affair with him.”
“Wait, what?” His brows dip in confusion. “You don’t….” He tilts his head slightly. “You mean the uncle you’ve never met?”
I nod, then wince as the pounding in my head gets worse. “The o
ne and only.”
“Damn. That’s some fucked up shit there,” Zayden states the obvious.
“Yeah, well, it appears the reason she hasn’t been answering my calls is because she moved in with Uncle Benjamin in Tennessee. She couldn’t even tell me she was moving across the continent.”
“I won’t ask how your dad’s taking it. I could tell by the way he’d acted over break that he’s pretty pissed.”
“I can’t say I blame him,” I mutter, rubbing my temples to help ease the ache. “He’s taking it better than I would have in his shoes.”
There’s a loud bang in the kitchen, and I grimace when I feel the repercussion in my temples. I tilt my head and look across the room. Savannah’s glaring down at the floor, and I read her lips as she mumbles, “Shit”.
“What are you going to do?” Zayden asks, and I pull my eyes away from Savannah.
“Not a damn thing. Fuck her and her secrets.” She’s my mother and I still love her, but I don’t like her at the moment. I scrub a hand over my face then stare ahead. “I’m sorry about crashing at your girl’s place. I have no fucking clue what I was thinking last night.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He slaps my back and gets up. I shoot him a glare because the bastard knows jostling me like that jolts my head. He chuckles at my irate look. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Come get something to eat when you’re done.”
He walks into the kitchen and snags Rylee around the waist, landing a kiss against her lips so loud even I can hear it. I flick my gaze to Savannah and see her eyes dart away from me.
Tossing the blanket off my lap, I get up and stumble to the bathroom, my hand going to the wall to catch myself before I face plant against the drywall. The pills I took have lessened the pain in my head, but my stomach still rumbles uneasily. Standing in front of the toilet, I lean my arm on the cabinet above it and rest my forehead against my arm. I sigh as I relieve myself.
After I wash my hands, I grab the packaged toothbrush and squirt on some toothpaste. As I stand there and scrub my teeth, I let my eyes wander. If memory serves correctly, this is the bathroom Savannah uses. I open the medicine cabinet and survey the contents inside. Deodorant, several bottles of vitamins, a small first aid kit, and a nail kit.
I close the door and spit into the sink, then swish water around my mouth before spitting that out as well. After splashing water on my face, I grab the towel from the back of the door. Inhaling deeply, I groan when Savannah’s unique sent fills my nose. I pull back and look at the towel. An image of her running it all over her body, in places I wouldn’t mind exploring with my hands and mouth, has blood rushing to my dick. Without an ounce of guilt, I take another whiff of the towel before hanging it back in place.
Leaving the bathroom feeling slightly better, I walk down the hallway. Stopping at the door I know is Savannah’s bedroom, I look down the hallway and notice that no one can see me from the kitchen or living room. It would be so easy to slip inside and snoop around. I pull my hand back before it touches the doorknob, deciding sniffing her towel is probably enough pervertedness for one day.
Zayden and Rylee are on the couch watching TV, plates of food on their laps. Rylee offers me a small smile as I pass by them. Savannah’s in the kitchen, her phone on the counter in front of her as she slides her finger across the screen. She doesn’t acknowledge me as I walk to the cabinet beside the stove, but I still feel her eyes on me.
I wasn’t in the bathroom long, so I know she hasn’t eaten yet. Deciding to play the nice guy in light of my shitty behavior last night, I grab two plates and start loading them with bacon, sausage, eggs, grits, and toast. Taking down two glasses, I pour orange juice in one and use the tap to fill the other with water. I need to hydrate, stat.
Carrying both plates to the bar, I put them down and look at Savannah. “Come eat with me.”
She eyes the plate like it’s a snake about to strike, and I’m not sure if she’s hesitant because of the food or me.
“I’m not gonna bite.” I grin cockily at her. “Unless you want me to, of course.”
Rolling her eyes, she looks back down at her phone. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
I’ve jabbed her before about eating, but it was only because I know girls are sensitive about their image, so I knew it would get to her. To be honest, looking at her, she could do with some meat on her bones. Her collarbones protrude from her shoulders and her face and arms are a bit too slim.
Noticing a dark tinge beneath her eyes has guilt hitting me in the solar plexus. I’m sure she didn’t get much sleep due to my late-night visit.
I let out a low breath and take my own seat. “Come on, Savannah. I’m trying to make up for my behavior last night. Could you make it a tad bit easier on me?”
Her eyes are wary when she lifts them to me. Her bottom lip rolls between her white teeth as she contemplates my words. After a moment, she presses the button on the side of her phone, and the screen goes dark. Walking around the bar, she takes the stool beside me. She pays me no attention as I continue to watch her for another moment before picking up my fork and diving in. The silence around us is surprisingly comfortable.
I moan when I bite into a crispy piece of bacon. “Damn, that’s good. All bacon should come this crispy.”
Her spoonful of grits pauses halfway to her mouth and she slides her eyes to me. “You like crispy bacon?”
I shove another piece in my mouth before I answer. “It’s the only way to eat it. The half-ass chewy way a lot of people cook it is disgusting.”
“Hmm….” She hums, her expression perplexed. “I actually agree with you. When Zayden stays here with Rylee, we play rock, paper, scissors to see who makes the bacon because he likes his gummy, and Rylee and I like ours almost burnt.”
“Fuck that. The crunchier, the better.”
She’s quiet as she continues to eat, and again, I can’t help but watch her. She takes small measured bites, chews slowly, and her throat bobs when she swallows. Looking at her neck, I can’t help but wonder what she tastes like there.
I shake my head to rid itself of the thought.
It’s weird having a casual conversation with Savannah after the way we’ve both antagonized each other. But it’s kinda nice.
“I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last night,” I tell her quietly. I need to apologize to Rylee too, but I’ll do that after I finish eating.
She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.”
I look down at my food and scoop up some eggs. “Maybe not, but I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”
She pushes her plate away, even though she’s barely touched any of it. “It’s okay. I get you’re going through some stuff right now.”
I shouldn’t care, but I fucking hate that she saw me the way I was last night. I hate even more that she saw what happened between my father and me. Savannah’s opinion of me is already low enough, and I’ve never cared before what she thought of me, but something’s changed after that night in my room. I no longer want her to look at me with loathing. I want her to see me as more than the asshole stepbrother who tried to ruin her best friend’s life. I want her to see me. I want that as much as I want to get to know her better.
“You should eat more.” I use my fork to point at her plate.
She snorts and shoots me an incredulous look. “Yeah, right.”
I slowly roam my gaze from her face, to her chest, then to her waist before lifting my eyes back to her face. She’s lost weight since the beginning of the school year, and for some reason that bothers me.
Her eyes narrow into slits at my assessment.
“I’m serious.”
“So, at first you say I eat too much, and now you’re saying I’m not eating enough?” she asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. “Can you make up your mind?”
Shame isn’t something I’m accustomed to feeling, but at the moment, I’m slammed with
it. As much as I want to look away from her incensed stare, I hold her gaze, hoping she hears the truth in my next words.
“I was wrong to say those things to you. I was pissed the first time I said something. When I saw your reaction, I knew it angered you, so I used it against you again. The last thing you need is to lose weight, Savannah.”
She gets up from her stool and carries her plate to the trash, casting me a doubtful sideways glance. I want to clock my own jaw for making her question her appearance. The woman is sex on legs, every fucking inch of her. I’ve never understood why girls get so bent out of shape over their self-images, but I get it now. It’s guys like me, ones who make them feel self-conscious about themselves, who doubt their weight and looks.
You’re such a fuck-up, Oliver.
Finding only one way to prove to her that my words are true, I get up and follow her. She’s at the trashcan dumping her food, having not noticed my approach, when I come up behind her. She startles when she spins around and finds me so close.
“What are you…?”
I grab the plate and gently set it down on the counter. The last thing I want is to alert Zayden and Rylee that something is going on and for them to investigate.
Grabbing her hips, I maneuver her out of view of the living room and press her back against the counter. I set my hands on the edge on either side of her.
“Oliver—” she starts, but it ends on a gasp when I set my lips against her neck.
Lazily, I lick along the smooth column of skin. My earlier thought of what she would taste like is answered. Fucking phenomenal. And addicting. I could easily become addicted to licking her neck.
“Oliver, what are you doing?” she asks breathlessly. I smile against her neck when she tilts her head to the side. I half expected her to push me back and slap me by now, but I’m damn glad she hasn’t.
“Proving what an asshole I am and showing you exactly how perfect I think your body is.”
Her hands move to my waist, and for a moment I worry she’s going to shove me away, but instead, her fingers curl into the material. “And you couldn’t do that with words?”
