“No ma’am,” Rannon answered. My mom was the only person I knew my best friend to be extra polite to.
“I’ll whip something up for you before I leave,” she said, walking into the kitchen. At nine she started to lace up the plain, white running shoes all the nurses wore. “What are you boys up to tonight?”
“Just going to hang out and play video games,” Rannon said.
“Okay. You stay out of trouble, you hear?” We both nodded obediently. “I’m going to get on the road so I’m not late.” She walked over and leaned down to kiss me on the head. Then did the same to Rannon.
“Have a good night, mom,” I said just as she shut the door behind her. Rannon was up instantly, pulling out a large bottle of vodka from his backpack leaning against the sofa.
“Time to get buzzed, my friend,” he declared.
I got up and grabbed two shot glasses from the kitchen, returning to the sofa. I needed to get buzzed. It was the only time I felt free of worries. We both slammed back our shots. It burned down my throat in the familiar way I loved. Rannon filled the glasses up again. He held his out.
“To a good night,” he said in cheers.
“To a good night,” I echoed taking the shot.
People started arriving right at ten. Reagan and her friends showed up wearing outfits even strippers would be embarrassed by. Thankfully I was already pretty buzzed. Reagan sauntered over to where I sat in the living room, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. She lowered herself onto my lap that I’d instantly made room on for her tiny ass. Her make-up was caked on, and she smelled like she’d showered in flowers, but I didn’t mind too much. She was good for a distraction.
“Hey, Colt,” she practically purred.
“Hey, Reagan,” I replied, smiling crookedly. Oh yeah, I was drunk. My words even sounded slurred to me. “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight.”
She giggled, leaning into me so her breasts pressed against my chest. I could feel her hardened nipples through the thin fabric. My shirt had gotten lost at some point before people arrived. I knew I had put one on after my shower, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what the hell I’d done with it since.
She brought her lips to my ear, her hot breath fanning across it. “Want to go somewhere a bit more private?” Did I? Eh, why not?
“My bedroom,” I said. She hopped off my lap and waited as I stood, following me as I led the way. The music blared as I walked by the speakers, fading as I made my way to my bedroom at the back of the house. It used to be my father’s office, but once he’d moved out my mom had let me change it into my bedroom. I liked being on a different floor than her, for precisely this reason. She never knew when I snuck girls in and I wanted to keep it that way.
As soon as I shut the door behind us she was on me. Her mouth covered mine, sloppily. I grabbed her face, forcing her to slow down and follow my lead. She was using too much tongue, and her lips were rough and chapped against mine. It was a horrible kiss. I backed her up to my bed, following her down so my body covered hers.
“Colt,” she moaned as I moved down her neck. Her hands grabbed at my hair, pulling tightly. “I want you inside me,” she said, forcing my head away from her. Already? What happened to foreplay?
“Okay,” I said, somewhat confused. This wasn’t as hot as I hoped it would be. I reached out for my night table, searching the drawer for a condom. Shit. There were none.
“I need to get a condom,” I said, pushing myself up. “Stay here.”
“Okay,” she replied, posing herself in what I assumed she thought was a sexy pose. She looked ridiculous. “Hurry back.”
Ugh. I was definitely going to take my time finding that condom. I should have known this was a bad idea. There was no one Reagan liked more than herself. The only reason she was interested in me was because I was the ‘hot bad boy’. I was stupid. I knew what all these girls wanted. One night with the infamous Colt Morgan – bad boy extraordinaire. I walked out of the room without replying.
I was so sick of this shit.
Three
The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls – Pablo Picasso
Olivia
Old paintings of mine hung around the full length mirror in my bedroom. I looked at them, wishing with every bone in my body that I could just stay home and paint instead of going next door. For the last two hours my hands hadn’t stopped sweating, and my stomach kept doing this nervous rolling thing that was starting to make me feel sick. Painting was the only thing that calmed me down. It released any tension or anxiety I felt. Took me out of this world and transported me to wherever and whenever I chose. It was my escape.
But there was no escaping this as Ella sidled up to me, practically jumping with excitement. “Well? What do you think?”
Reluctantly I looked away from the one painting I had done of a girl sitting on a park bench, her eyes staring off into space. I couldn’t remember the story I had made to go with that particular piece, but I could remember the day I’d painted it. I had set up in the park just down the street from my school. The air had been warm, but not overly so. Spring was just starting and the weather was that nice mix between crisp and mild. I loved painting outside when the weather was perfect. Every painting I did I liked to create a back story for. It bothered me that I couldn’t remember this one.
My eyes met my own in the mirror. Ella had done a smoky look around them that made the green really pop. My lips were a subtle raspberry pink that made it look like I had been biting my lips. I probably had been. The long locks of my hair hung down my back in soft waves that Ella had coaxed with my straightening iron. My top was one of the ones she had bought for me while I was away at school. I remembered it being for my birthday because I’d thought ‘where there hell am I supposed to wear this in January?’ The thing was barely qualified to be called a shirt. The fabric was thin and sparkled like I was some sort of human disco ball. It tied around the back of my neck and around my stomach, leaving my back completely bare. It was a good thing I wasn’t well endowed because there was no wearing a bra with this shirt.
The black jeggings clung to my legs like a second skin, and on my feet were the only pair of high heels I owned, and I only had these because Ella, once again, had bought them for me. I wasn’t much of a shopper myself so anything hip and cool was gifted to me. I looked myself over again slowly and admitted that I did look sort of hot. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been dressed up like this, and although it was kind of fun, it didn’t help to lessen my unease about going to the party.
“Well?” Ella pushed.
“I look good,” I conceded.
“You look good?” She balked. “Ollie, you look HOT. Every guy in there is going to freak. If there is one way to let everyone know you’re back, this is it. I can’t wait!” She squealed and clapped one more time before going over to my window and looking out. I wanted to run and hide while her back was turned, but she knew all my hiding places so it wouldn’t do much good.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I said again, for like the millionth time that night.
“I know, you keep saying that, and just like I’ve told you before, this is an excellent idea and you’re not backing out of it. I don’t want to walk in there by myself. Think of me!”
Those puppy eyes were back when she turned to look at me. Damn her. “Ella, you have other friends there. What difference does it make if I come or not?”
“Because I want you there. I don’t want to go and hang out with those girls. I’ve been doing it for the last two years and I’ve had all I can handle. My bestie is back and she’s not leaving my side again.”
I gulped. Literally. Ella and her passion for life could be slightly scary at times. Especially to someone like me who tended to stay in by herself and avoid the social networks of high school. I walked over to my bed and sat down, fidgeting with the edge of my shirt. The silver danced in the light of my bedroom, mesmerizing me for a second. I wo
ndered if I could recreate such a colour on my canvas. I looked up at the still blank surface and that urge to create filled me again.
“Okay, there are enough people there now that I think it’s time for us to make our entrance.”
No painting tonight, Olivia, I told myself. “What are we trying to accomplish here? Being ‘fashionably late’?” I asked, making quotations with my hands.
“Exactly!” She smiled. I sighed loudly. At least her shirt has a back, I thought begrudgingly. Then again, she had so much cleavage in the front I was pretty sure Pamela Anderson would be jealous. Her blonde hair was flipped at the ends, wisps framing her face nicely. Her make-up looked a lot like mine, except her lips were a deeper red, and her blue eyes popped out way more than my green eyes ever could.
“How are we going to get past my parents?”
She waved me off. “Olive, please. Your dad won’t even notice and your mom is probably so involved in her CSI marathon that they won’t even stop us.” True. Damn it.
We walked downstairs, each step feeling like I was growing closer to the guillotine, the sharp edge of teenage life just waiting to slice my head off. Ella might have been happy that I looked good, but it was only going to make Reagan and her ghouls notice me more, something I’d rather avoid. Forever. If at all possible.
“Where you girls off to?” my mom called out, not taking her eyes of the television. I sighed again. Why were they so predictable? My dad’s face was hidden behind the newspaper, his feet propped up on the table in front of him as he sat beside my mom, pretending (not very well) to be interested in her shows.
“We’re just going to go hang out at a friend’s house,” Ella answered.
“Okay dears, you two have fun.”
Ugh. Couldn’t I have really nosey, overprotective parents? Was that too much to ask for? We headed outside and the sound of music from next door hit us instantly. People’s voices rose just above it, along with the sounds of bottles clinking and other ruckus. A group stood out in front of the garage, billows of smoke rising above their heads. We’d have to walk by them to get inside. My stomach tightened as Ella grabbed my hand and forced me to walk down my driveway and around the fence separating our houses.
I skidded to a stop just at the edge where the light from the garage illuminated the pavement, still hidden in shadows. “I can’t do this,” I whispered to Ella, wiggling my hand free of hers. She didn’t miss a beat, snatching it right back and giving it a firm squeeze.
“Olivia Anne Banks, you are going in there and you are going to show those people that you are not some strange recluse, just because you like to paint pictures.”
The determination in her voice had my head snapping back in surprise.
“This is our last year of high school. I only got to enjoy the first with you, and I’ll admit it was a bit rough. People are assholes, what can I say? They only make fun of things they don’t understand, and they don’t get why someone like you would rather sit inside and create beautiful pieces of art than to be out with them doing what stupid shit teenagers do. It’s just jealousy, Olive,” she said.
“Jealousy?” I gave her an unconvinced look. If I could lift one eyebrow I would have, but alas, my eyebrows suck.
She stepped closer, her voice low. “Of course it’s jealousy. That’s all it ever was, especially with Reagan. People like her need to be in a crowd. They need to feel that attention and acceptance. You don’t give a shit what people think. It infuriates girls like her. Plus, she knows you’re prettier than her,” she said with a wink. “Now, stop being a baby and strut that fine piece of ass inside that house.” She slapped my butt with her free hand, urging me forward.
“Your encouraging speech aside, let me just say, you have some serious issues.”
She laughed loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in our direction as we walked closer. “Only when it comes to you, my love.”
I rolled my eyes, biting back my smile. As we grew closer more people started to look and my palms started to sweat again.
“Ella Page, is that you?” a boy’s voice called out.
“Hey Ryan,” she greeted with her signature flirty smile. I knew she wasn’t actually flirting, just being nice. We’d gone to school with Ryan since grade two and both of us remembered the way he’d pick his nose in class when he thought no one was looking.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, stepping forward to block our path. We both came to a stop, my hand gripping hers like she was my lifeline.
“It’s Olivia,” she said in an annoyed tone. “Who else would it be?”
“Olivia Banks?” His eyes grew wide as they slowly moved over me from head to toe. “Jesus, girl. Where the hell have you been?”
“Rehab,” I said, deadpanned.
“Seriously?”
Ella pulled me around him, marching us toward the open door inside the garage. “No, not seriously, you idiot,” she said over her shoulder. She turned to look at me, my mouth stretched into a wide grin. “You’re going to make this so hard for me, aren’t you? Can’t you just try to get people to like you?”
I shrugged my shoulders, laughing at the way she was desperately trying not to laugh herself. “Oh come on! Can’t I at least have a little fun?”
“Your idea of fun scares me.”
“No, your idea of fun scares me,” I said.
“Whatever. Let’s go get a drink.”
The inside of the house was similar to mine in the open concept of it, but was currently littered with people and plastic cups. The kitchen was a bit dated, the cupboards looked like they were the original ones, some of them hanging off hinges, others missing completely. The countertop was chipped on the edges in certain spots, especially around the island that was covered in bottles of alcohol. Ella brought us there, grabbing two empty red cups and filling them with some sort of liquor and topping it with coke. I watched her make them, wondering how the hell I was going to actually drink it. I hated the taste of alcohol.
“Hey, Ella,” a voice greeted. I looked up to see that Rannon guy watching us from the other side of the island, his dark eyes flipping back and forth between us. Finally they stuck on me and he smiled.
“Hey, Rannon,” Ella said, her voice squeaky. God, could she be any more obvious?
“Olivia, right?” he said to me.
I nodded, taking the cup from Ella and downing a gulp. My gag reflex kicked in as soon as the nasty liquid hit my tongue but I fought it back. Oh yeah, I hated alcohol. I took another sip.
“I didn’t know you were back,” he was saying.
“She only got here last weekend,” Ella offered.
“You staying for the summer?”
I nodded again.
“She’s coming back to Bloomfield High this year,” said Ella. I looked at her with my death glare but she ignored me.
“Really?” He crossed his arms over his chest, a pleased look on his face. His eyes flicked over my shoulder just as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I could feel someone standing close to me, the heat off their body warming my bare back. My breathing grew shallow and I knew instantly who it was before Rannon spoke. “Look who’s here, Colt. Olivia Banks from next door.” There was something about the way he said it that suggested there was some sort of secret message beneath those simple words, but I had no idea what it could mean.
I turned my head extra slowly, looking over my shoulder at the bare chest standing there. Then I raised my head and met eyes that were dangerously close to the colour of the shirt I was wearing. Silver was starting to become my favourite colour. They looked back at me, unblinking, heating my body and making coherent thought difficult. A slow smile lifted one side of his mouth. I licked my dry lips, feeling like I was standing in a desert all of a sudden. His eyes watched the movement, causing goose bumps to rise along my arms. I turned back around and took a bigger gulp of my disgusting drink.
“Hello, Olivia Banks.” His voice rolled over me like a physical caress. He’d
stepped closer, his mouth right by my ear when he spoke. I could almost feel his bare chest against my back.
“Hey, Colt,” Ella said, saving me from embarrassing myself. I wasn’t sure I could form a sentence at this point.
“Ella,” he replied, not moving away from me. Didn’t he know anything about personal space? Because he was all up in mine and I didn’t like it. Okay, maybe I did. I wanted to just lean back a fraction and let my body rest against his, but that would just be weird, and these people already thought I was weird enough. I didn’t need to give them more reason.
“Ella here says Olivia will be back at school this year,” Rannon said. I looked over at him, confused why he’d think that would be of any interest to Colt Morgan. The man hardly knew I was alive.
“Is that right?” he asked. Ella and Rannon were looking at me, waiting, so I turned to tell him yes and found my face only inches from his. He was bent into me, his nose practically touching mine. All breathing ceased, the air stuck in my lungs. “So you’re sticking around for a while?” he said.
I nodded my head slowly, afraid to move too much. Someone popped up beside him, their small hands gripping his bicep.
“Colt,” Reagan whined in a way that made me want to rip my ears off so I’d never have to hear that sound again. “You said you’d be right back. I’ve been waiting forever.” She pouted her lips. Her eyes brushed right over me to land on Ella. “Ella Bella! You’re here!”
I twisted to look at Ella, my eyebrows pulled together. Ella Bella, I mouthed. Ella rolled her eyes before smiling at Reagan. I looked back at Colt to find him watching me closely, a small smile playing on his lips. At least he had backed up a fraction giving me space to breathe again.
“Hey, Reagan,” Ella said. “You look amazing tonight.” Lie.
Reagan flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said in that way where you knew she didn’t really mean it because obviously she looked amazing. Now I remembered why I hated her so much, not that I really ever forgot. Finally her eyes found mine and I watched as they narrowed on me.
Underground (New World Series Book 4) Page 23
