by Alex Grayson
“Well, I’m going to head in.” She tosses her thumb over her shoulder to the door. I glance up when I note the nervousness in her words. “I’ll see you around.”
I take a step closer, boxing her in against the door.
“Oliver,” she starts, her voice quivering. “I already told you I’m—”
“Not inviting me in,” I finish for her. Resting my hands on the door beside her head, I lean closer. “But I never agreed not to take another kiss. Aren’t dates supposed to at least end with a kiss?”
I don’t give her time to answer before I slant my head and take her lips with my own. A groan rumbles from my throat at my first taste of her since this morning. Fuck, she tastes good.
It takes a moment and a few swipes of my tongue before she allows me entrance. Her fingers dig into my sides, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to push me away or hold onto me. I get my answer when a little mewling sound vibrates against my lips. I’m rock hard behind the zipper of my jeans, and I’d give damn near anything to thrust my hips forward to show her exactly what she’s doing to me. I hold myself still, though, not wanting to break the spell our kiss has wrapped around us.
After several moments of drinking her in, I nip her bottom lip and reluctantly pull back. I grin cockily at her when she stares up at me with dazed eyes.
“Goodnight, Savannah.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and step back. “Sweet dreams.”
I turn on my heel and walk away, afraid if I stay longer I’ll beg her to let me inside.
12
SAVANNAH
“Are you ready?” Rylee pops her head into the open bathroom door, her gaze doing a full sweep of me when she does.
I’m dressed a little risqué compared to my usual style. Black halter dress that hits me about mid-thigh, four-inch black heels, and my lips painted fire engine red.
“Wow. V, you look incredible.” She whistles loudly.
“I think maybe the dress is too tight.” I tug at the material, feeling self-conscious. Sure, it fits me great, but every time I look in the mirror all I see is the bulge of my belly and the curve of my love handles.
“I think it looks incredible.”
“It’s our first college party, and I’ve been waiting for a reason to wear this dress. You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Too much? Um, no. I think you look smoking hot.”
I pull my gaze away from my reflection and look toward Rylee. She’s dressed a bit more modestly than me, but still looks incredible. She has on a black flair skirt, a white tank top with a long silver necklace draped down the front, and her long hair is curled, falling around her shoulders in perfect waves.
“Speaking of looking hot.” I gesture toward my best friend.
“I was going for sexy, but trendy.”
“Well, you’ve accomplished that. What shoes are you going to wear?” I look down at her bare feet.
“I’m stuck between my knee-high boots or my black, strappy heels.”
“Heels,” I advise her.
“Yeah, that’s what I was leaning toward.” She smiles. “Anyway, we should probably get going soon. I ordered an Uber ten minutes ago; I can’t imagine it will be too much longer before it gets here.”
Even though I told Rylee I wouldn’t drink and would drive us there and back, she still insisted we get an Uber. I guess she knows once we get there, I’ll probably end up wanting to drink. Zayden had offered to come pick us up, but Rylee didn’t see the sense in him driving all the way over here when we could just as easily order a ride.
“Okay, I’ll be done in just a minute,” I tell her, watching her disappear from the doorway moments later.
I turn my gaze back toward my reflection, once again tugging on the material of the dress. It’s unforgiving. I might as well be naked at this point considering you can see every ounce of flab I have.
“This is stupid.” I shake my head, turning to head into my bedroom, fully prepared to change. I no more than reach my closet when Rylee hollers that the car is here. “Shit,” I mutter, glancing down at my outfit. “Well, looks like this is it.” I turn and head out into the living room.
----
“So, you don’t go to WSU?” The guy I’ve been talking to for the last couple of minutes leans in closer, having to raise his voice over the music blaring through the house.
While I’ve been with Rylee and Zayden since we got here, I excused myself a few minutes ago to get another drink and decided to hang out in the kitchen for a minute—given that it’s the least crowded room in the house. Which, when you think about it, really doesn’t make that much sense considering it’s where all the alcohol is.
I had no sooner leaned against the counter after refilling my drink when one of the fraternity brothers slid up to me, giving me the type of smolder that’s probably worked for him a hundred times in the past, but did nothing for me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute. In a very jock kind of way. Big arms, broad shoulders, sandy-colored hair that’s short on the sides and longer on top. But when you slide up next to a girl and boast about how this is your party and how lucky she should feel to be here, it doesn’t really set the mood.
“Seattle University,” I answer, tipping my drink to my lips. Thank God for the buzz swimming in my veins, otherwise I probably would have abandoned this conversation the second it started.
I’m not sure that I have a type, per se, but cocky frat boy who thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread has never been my cup of tea.
Oliver’s face flashes through my mind at the thought, and I quickly go for another drink.
I have no idea where we stand. At dinner the other night we decided to be friends…. I think. But then the way he kissed me—there was nothing friendly about it. It was raw and carnal—definitely not the way friends should kiss—if friends made a habit of kissing, that is, which I’m pretty sure most don’t.
“So what brings you out here?” Brad interrupts my thoughts. Or was it Chad? Shit, I can’t remember.
“A friend of mine goes to school here,” I say in way of explanation.
“Well, that’s a lucky break for me.” His eyes slide down my body, making me feel like a juicy slab of meat, rather than an actual person.
“Is it?” I arch a brow, deciding to humor him rather than telling him to fuck off like I want to.
“It is.” He turns, caging me against the counter.
“I should probably go find my friend,” I blurt when his face dips close to mine. Talking is one thing, but if he thinks this is going past that, he’s got another think coming.
“Why? When we’re having so much fun right here?”
My eyes dart to the doorway as I try to figure out how I can ease my way out of this situation without ruffling this guy’s feathers. But when my gaze locks with a pair of familiar blue eyes, my mind literally goes blank.
Oliver….
His eyes narrow, and I take in the flare of his nostrils and the way his shoulders go tight. But before I have time to process what I’m seeing, I feel rough lips press to mine. I jump, my drink sloshing all over the place as I push what’s his name away.
“What the fuck?” he grumbles as I dip underneath his arm.
“Sorry, Brad, but I gotta go.” I set my cup on the counter and turn to the doorway that’s now empty.
“It’s Chad,” he hollers after me, but I really couldn’t care less at this point.
I veer down the hallway and head toward the living room. The music is so loud I can barely hear myself think. I press up, looking over the crowd of people all smooshed together like sardines, spotting Rylee and Zayden off to the far side, grinding on each other like there’s not a single other person in the room.
Shaking my head, I turn and head in the opposite direction.
I have no idea what Oliver is doing here. Last I heard, he wasn’t coming. And while I shouldn’t be excited that he showed up, a part of me is—as much as I hate to admit it.
I scour the rest of t
he house—the dining room, the game room, the back yard, but I can’t find Oliver anywhere. Did I imagine him standing there? Heading back into the kitchen, I’m relieved to see Brad/Chad is gone. Crossing toward the counter, I quickly mix another drink, adding extra tequila this time, before heading back toward the living room.
I no more than get both feet into the room when my steps falter. Not even three feet in front of me is Oliver, dancing with a girl so provocatively that it makes what Rylee and Zayden were doing earlier look like child’s play.
Well, that certainly didn’t take him long. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since I saw him in the kitchen.
His hands are everywhere. Across her chest, gripping her ass as he grinds himself into her, in her hair as he tugs her head back and trails his tongue across her throat.
Anger slams into me like a semi-truck, knocking me backward a step.
I don’t understand the emotion. All I know is that right now I have half a mind to walk over and grab Goldilocks by her fake extensions and drag her out of the room.
What the hell?
I look down at my glass, thinking maybe I’m drunker than I originally thought. What else could explain this sudden flash of anger making me feel like my skin is literally on fire?
Oliver’s mouth continues to work across the girl’s neck. He works his way upward, sucking her earlobe into his mouth before dragging his teeth across it as he releases.
I need to get out of here—it’s the only thought I have. But right then Oliver’s eyes pop open and his gaze meets mine, and I’m frozen in place. He smiles, but not in the way you would smile at someone you’re happy to see. Without breaking eye contact with me, he leans down, dipping the girl so that her head and shoulders fall backward, giving him access to the swell of her breast. Gaze locked on me, his tongue slides under the material of her revealing top, no doubt sweeping across her nipple.
It’s like watching a car crash. I don’t want to see it, but I can’t look away either.
I grind my teeth, anger and confusion seeping out of every pore.
I don’t understand my reaction. I shouldn’t give a shit who or what he does. He’s nothing to me. But if that’s true, then why do I feel so hurt by the little show he’s clearly putting on just for me?
I think I’m going to be sick.
I turn and quickly exit the room, barely making it into the front yard before dropping my cup in the grass and losing the contents of my stomach in a cluster of bushes that line the porch.
Tears slide past my lashes as dry heaves continue to rocket through my body long after I’ve expelled all the alcohol from my system.
“Are you okay?” I go ramrod straight at the sound of Oliver’s voice behind me.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turn, my intense glare locking on Oliver’s face.
“Why the hell do you care?” I bite.
“Savannah,” he starts, looking almost remorseful. For some reason, that only pisses me off more.
“I’m fine. You can go back inside now.” I angrily gesture toward the house.
“You’re not fine.” He takes a step closer. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He reaches for me.
I pull back, looking down at his hand in disgust.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I wipe my fingers under my eyes where my mascara has no doubt started to run. “I’m sure your little bimbo is missing you. Perhaps you should go back inside and finish what you started.”
A trace of a smile tugs at his lips, and he cocks his head to the side.
“What?” I snap, feeling irritated by the way he’s looking at me.
“You’re jealous.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Jealous?” I snort out a laugh. “That would imply I give a shit about what you do. Which, I don’t.”
“Your actions would suggest otherwise.”
“What my actions would suggest is that I’ve had a little too much to drink.”
“Is that why you were getting all cozy in the kitchen with that meathead? Because you had too much to drink?”
Suddenly, something hits me. The way he looked at me from the doorway. The way his posture was tight and his brows were knitted together. Was he jealous? Is that what that little show was about? His way of getting back at me for something he thought he walked in on.
I stare at him for a long moment, taking in the messy way his hair lays across his forehead. The way his shoulders rise and fall under the material of his black tee as he breathes, slow and controlled.
My heart flips in spite of myself.
God, why does he have to be so good looking?
Why does he have to stand there looking impossibly handsome and yet equally as irritating.
“What was going on in the kitchen is none of your business. Last time I checked, I’m a single woman who can do whatever the hell she pleases.”
“The same can be said for me,” he counters. “Well, not the woman part, but the single part. And yet you seem pretty pissed at me at the moment.”
“I’m not pissed. I don’t feel good,” I lie, the words catching in my throat.
“You sure that’s it?” He takes another step toward me. “Or is it that you didn’t like seeing me with another woman—just like I didn’t like seeing you with another man?”
“For your information, I wasn’t with another man. We were just talking.”
“Looked like there was a hell of a lot more than talking going on.” He grinds his teeth together.
“Well, it wasn’t. He made a move, I rejected him. But you didn’t stick around long enough to see that part. Either way, it took you what, five minutes before you had your tongue all over some random girl?”
“And you claim you aren’t jealous.”
“I’m not.” I stomp my foot like a temperamental child.
“Let me remind you that you were the one who said you didn’t want anything from this.” He gestures between the two of us.
“I don’t.” I take a deep inhale through my nose.
“And yet, you’re standing here looking at me like I just ripped the head off your favorite doll.”
“Maybe because you proved me right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can’t help yourself, can you? Something doesn’t go your way and your first instinct is to lash out like a spoiled child and make a show of doing so.” My hands go to my hips. “You think I’m stupid? You think I didn’t know that little performance in there was for me? Of course I did. Because that’s who you are, Oliver. The kind of guy who purposely hurts people when things don’t go his way.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it closed again, contemplating my words.
“For a moment, I thought maybe there was more to you. That maybe I had judged you too harshly. But now, I know that I had you pegged right all along. You are exactly the person I thought you were and tonight solidified that fact.”
“Like you’re so innocent.” His nostrils flare.
“I was talking to someone in the kitchen, and then he tried to kiss me. I had no idea that you were even here tonight. I wasn’t putting on a show. You just happened to walk in on a situation you didn’t fully understand. The two are completely different.”
“You’re right.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I saw you with that guy, and I lost it. I won’t deny that it pissed me off. Fuck, it more than pissed me off. I wanted to grab that guy and bounce his fucking head off the countertop.”
“So you were jealous.”
“Fuck yes, I was jealous!” His voice echoes around me, the intensity of his words damn near knocking the wind out of me. “I came here tonight for you. I thought…fuck, I don’t know what I thought. But then I walked in and saw you with that guy…”
I won’t lie and say that his admission doesn’t affect me—it does. But it doesn’t change anything. Because if tonight has taught me anything—it’s that Oliver is who he is, and that’s never going to ch
ange.
“So what, you thought you’d even the playing field?” I scuff my heel in the ground.
“Savannah.” He once again reaches for me.
“No.” I take a step back.
“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
“I don’t want anything from you, Oliver. Not even an apology.”
“You’re right. Okay? I acted like a fucking spoiled child. I saw you with that guy and instead of doing what I should have done, which was talk to you, I ran off like a little pussy and purposely tried to hurt you. I’ve been doing shit like this my entire life. Deflecting, trying to hurt people before they have a chance to hurt me. You just…fuck!” he yells to the sky, tugging on his hair. “You drive me fucking crazy.” His eyes come back to mine. “I have never been so infuriated with someone yet so consumed by them at the same time.”
“Well, I’ll make it simple for you, there is no us. There will never be an us. And as far as I’m concerned, you can go lick all over as many sweaty whores as you want. Because whatever this was,” I gesture between the two of us, “it’s over.”
“Over?” he balks. “Fuck, you were too chicken shit to even let it get started.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You just admitted that you purposely hurt people before they can hurt you. Why would I want to get involved with you when even you, yourself, can see how fucked up that is?”
“You’re right. I am fucked up. I’m just a fucked up, unlovable piece of shit.” He tries to hold the angry façade in place, but I can see the hurt that builds behind his expression. “Glad we could get that out of the way.”
Before I can reply, Oliver spins around and takes off back into the house, making me feel like maybe he’s not the only monster between the two of us. Because if this guilt pressing on my chest is any indication, I might be just as bad as him.
He acted out of jealousy and purposely hurt me. But isn’t that what I did with the things I said? Is how I just behaved any better?
I’m tempted to go back inside. To go after him and apologize, but my pride stops me.
