by Anne Mercier
"No way, Livvy. I'm afraid a strong gust of wind will blow you away."
"You're being stupid."
"I'm the stupid one?" I growl, then bite back the asshole remarks I'd usually throw at her, cutting her raw. It's a whole lot harder than I thought it would be. I've been a bigger douche than I thought. Damn. "When we get back to your room, you're eating. I'm going to make you a sandwich and watch you eat it."
"That's kinda creepy."
"I'm kinda creepy," I admit.
"That's a fact. But I don't like people watching me eat," she tells me.
I can't hide my exasperation. "It was a turn of phrase, Livvy. I'm just going to stay until you've eaten. I won't watch you chew every grain of bread."
"Well you did just admit you're creepy."
I look down at her, noting her smirk, and pull her tighter into my side.
"You little shit."
She laughs a little under her breath. Good. She forgot what she was upset about.
When we get to the dorm, she tries to pull out of my embrace, but I just keep her anchored in place by tightening my arm around her waist. She's lost so much weight. We all thought we knew what she'd been going through. We didn't. We still don't.
"Now, let's get you some food," I tell her after we get off the elevator.
"Ugh. I'm not really very hungry."
"Too bad. You're eating."
"Bully."
"That's already been noted. Besides, you might be hungrier than you think."
"Whatever," she says as she opens the door. "I'm going to go change and you can do whatever it is you're going to do to force-feed me."
"You've got five minutes."
She lifts her brows in surprise. "For what?"
"To get changed and get your bony ass in the kitchen."
She turns and looks down at her ass, then puts her hands on it, feeling it. I want to groan because she looks incredibly sexy in this moment, but I don't.
"My ass is not bony," she protests.
"I call 'em like I see 'em. Now go," I order—instead of grabbing her ass like I want to.
She goes and all the while she's muttering something about bossy bullies under her breath. I like this version of her better than the sad one—even better than the one who didn't stand up for herself in high school when I told her she was nothing but a fraud and fake.
I open the fridge and grab some ham, lettuce, cheese, tomato, and mayo—light mayo. I shake my head. Chicks.
By the time she sits down at the small island, I've already made her sandwich and two for myself.
"That's a big sandwich," she tells me, crossing her arms as I cut up a pickle and put it on her plate along with some fruit.
"Hope you like wheat." I slide the plate in front of her with a glass of milk. "Eat."
She gives me a look like she has something she wants to say back, but she doesn't. She picks up a pickle spear and bites into it. I dig into my own food, sitting across from her. I occasionally look up to track her process and note she's already eaten three-fourths of the sandwich. I say nothing. Just keep eating.
When I'm done, I look up and see her staring at me.
"Now who's the creepy one?" I tease.
She shrugs. "You watched me first."
I don't bother denying it, just shrug back, then grab her empty glass and nearly empty plate and set them by the sink.
"I guess I was hungry," Liv admits.
"Guess so. You gonna start eating now—since you realize you're hungry even when you don't think you are?" I ask.
"Yes. Why do you always have to be such a… a…"
"A what?" I taunt, crossing my arms over my chest.
"A dick!" she shouts. "Why do you always have to be such a dick to me? Always on my case. Picking at me."
"You want the truth or you want me to lie?"
"The truth."
"You're an easy target."
She gasps. "What?"
"You're an easy target. I know you won't say much back."
"Are you kidding me?" she screeches, standing up from her stool and walking around to stand in front of me. "You're telling me, all those times you treated me like dirt, it was because you knew I wouldn't argue back?"
I nod and then she's pissed.
"You!" she shouts, poking me in the chest. "I never did anything to you. Ever!" She pokes me again. "And you bullied me to the point I avoided you! I purposefully went the long way to my locker if I knew you were going to be in that hallway. And why? There's got to me more to it than that!" She grabs the front of my shirt. "What's the real reason?"
I just shake my head, not ready to give her that answer.
"You will tell me!"
I don't think, I just react to her hands twisting in my shirt, her flushed cheeks, the way an angry Olivia Brennan arouses me. I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her. It was meant to only shut her up, but once I got a taste of her, there was no stopping.
I can feel the anger in the way she's kissing me back, and when I'm certain I've completely lost my mind, I slip my tongue into her mouth and touch hers, groaning aloud when her nails bite into my shoulders and she pulls me tighter against her.
We're hands and heavy breathing and before I know it, I'm kissing my way down her neck and pulling her tank top down to kiss her tits—fuck yeah, Olivia has some great tits. I suck one nipple into my mouth while cupping the other breast, and she lets out a moan of pleasure.
Those moans. Those sounds. They're driving me crazy. I'm so damn hard it hurts. I don't know how it happens, but my hand dips beneath the waistband of her sleep pants and then I'm cupping her—and she's wet, so wet she's soaked her panties. I can't think. I can smell her. I groan and slam my mouth against hers as I slip a finger inside her.
She pants out and whimpers a little. She's made me lose my mind. I slide my finger in and out, making sure to rub a part of her clit. All I want in this moment is to watch her come. I have to see it. I want to feel her come around my finger, knowing I'm the one who brought her that pleasure.
Her hips move in time with my finger and it doesn't take long before she cries out, biting my bottom lip, a groan slipping out that I can't control as I grind my cock against her hip. Her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted—she's so fucking sexy right now.
I'd love to fuck her right here but something tells me that's not going to happen. Maybe it's the way she froze up. Maybe it's the way she rests her forehead against my chest, avoiding my gaze. Maybe it's the way she tries to step backward away from me, only to come up short, her back against the countertop.
I take a slow step back, gently easing my finger out of her and her pants when I feel the first tear dampen my shirt.
Well, fuck.
"Olivia—"
She holds up a hand, still looking down. I reach out to pull up her top and she flinches. Now that pisses me off. As if it pains her to be reminded that my mouth was just there, licking and sucking mere minutes ago. I hate to tell her but she's going to have a reminder for about a week or so because I left a hickey there. I don't know why I did it. I sigh. Yes I do. I did it because I don't want her to forget what just happened—even if she's wishing it never did.
"D-don't. It's my fault. I should've—"
"You should've what?" I bite out.
She looks up at me, tears trailing down her face, anger and her orgasm flushing her cheeks. Then she crosses her arms, effectively walling me off, shutting me out, locking herself away. I can all but see it happening.
"This was a mistake. We were drinking and then we were arguing—"
"You making excuses, Brennan? Don't bother on my account." Fuck this. Fuck it all.
"I-I just…Danny." She lets out a sob and that pisses me off because it's making me feel a little bit guilty even if I didn't do anything wrong.
"You're right. This never should have happened but it did."
"This was a mistake. Oh God," she cries and that's it for me. I'm done. I'm done watching her punish h
erself—and me. I stepped over that line and I'm not going to let her add more guilt to her burden.
"Yeah, it was a mistake," I tell her, stepping right in front of her, trapping her against the countertop again. She lets out a soft gasp. I smirk. Yeah. Not a mistake at all.
"Camer—"
I lean in, my mouth next to her ear, "This was a big fucking mistake. I mean, my God, what do you think Danny would say?"
Bracing myself wasn't enough for the slap she delivers. Full on swing, hard, hot, stinging pain on my cheek.
"You son of a bitch."
I smirk, the look I know she hates. Even if she didn't fight back in high school, her eyes gave her away.
"Get out! Now!" she screams.
"You don't have to tell me twice, Priss."
I walk out, closing the door with a soft click instead of slamming it like I want to. Drawing attention to myself right now isn't something I'm up for. I stand there, listening to her cry and rage, calling me some pretty fucking inventive names.
Good. I'd rather she focus on her anger than her pain. She can be pissed at me, hate me. It's nothing new.
I walk out into the cool night air, taking the fire escape. I reach up to rub my cheek and I can smell her on my fingers. Shit. I flash back, seeing her let go, embracing the pleasure.
That was no mistake. Eventually she's going to figure that out. Until then, she can work on forgetting her pain and focus on hating me.
CHAPTER 7
"He kissed me like he was drowning and I was his air."
- Jenny Han
Olivia
Sunday morning, I stay in bed, not wanting to face the day. I can't believe what I did last night. What is wrong with me? The only guy I've ever been with is Danny—until now. I don't know why… why Cameron Stone of all people?
There's a light knock on my door.
"Liv? You up?" Alexa asks through the door.
I grunt. She takes that as an invitation and walks in, flopping on the bed next to me.
"Oh my god! What is that smell?" I ask while covering my nose.
"Ugh. I think it's me. It's either my camel breath or the vomit in my hair," she announces. Said hair is on one of my pillows.
"Gross! What happened to you last night?" I ask.
"Nevermind what happened to me. What happened to you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"After we ate, we went to the guys' frat house to chill and drink some more. Cam came storming in and drank more than I've seen him drink in a long time," she informs me, her questioning gaze holding a bit of accusation.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell her, closing my eyes.
"He was doing shots."
I just shrug.
"Yeah, okay. Sure. I'll be staying right here until you tell me. Yep, staying right here with my camel breath and vomit hair. I may vomit again. I've been queasy all morning," she taunts.
"Ugh! Fine! You know we walked back here?"
She nods.
"We get here and he forces me to eat."
"Sounds about right. What else?"
"He was being a dick so I called him on it."
"Oooh! It's taken you long enough," Alexa chastises.
"God, I can't take it," I tell her. I roll over and grab my Tic-Tacs out of my nightstand drawer. I toss them to her. "Eat some of those. Your breath is lethal."
She snickers but pops a few of the tiny candies into her mouth.
"So, you called Cam out."
"I did. I asked him why he's been a dick to me and do you know what he told me?"
Alexa raises her eyebrows in question.
"He tells me that I'm an easy target! That's why he's bullied me. Because he knew I'd take it!"
"That's messed up."
"I know! And I could tell that wasn't the only reason so I asked him what else. He wouldn't tell me, and by then I'd gotten up in his face and poked him a few times in the chest," I confess.
"Damn girl, you do me proud."
"I'm not proud of my behavior. He just got me so angry."
"He has an innate talent for it."
I sigh.
"That's it? That wouldn't get him that mad. What else happened?" she prods.
I glance up at her through my eyelashes.
"Well?"
"He kissed me to get me to shut up."
"No shit! I guess I can see that working—but that can't be all." She narrows her eyes.
"Uh, it wasn't." Then I fill her in on the rest.
She jumps up on her knees on the bed. "Holy shitballs, Livvy!"
I know my face is ten shades of red. I bury my face in the pillow and let the tears fall again. Tears of guilt. Tears of shame. Tears of confusion.
"I can't believe he said that to you! That asshole!" Alexa shouts. "I'm going to kick his ass!"
"With that breath, all you have to do is breathe on him."
She looks at me for a second, blinks, and then bursts out into laughter. I can't help it, I laugh with her. I'm not normally very witty, but that was funny.
"Oh, Livvy. That was perfect. I should go over there and breathe on him while he's sleeping."
"I don't think you should go anywhere looking like that," I caution. Her hair looks like something nested in it. Her face has broken blood vessels, likely from vomiting so hard. I've been there. Her makeup is smeared across her face. "Eww, get off my bed. There are chunks of vomit in your hair, hair that's on my pillow. Disgusting! Go shower—and brush your teeth!"
She throws a pillow at me and leaves the room. I turn over, facing away from the door. Why did I let that happen with Cameron? I just stopped thinking. That's never happened to me. Ever. I've never given in to my anger the way I did with him either—poking him and then slapping him across the face, not that he didn't have it coming. If I could go back, I'd do it again. How dare he say that to me about Danny? Who the hell does he think he is? God's gift, that's who. Not hardly.
A tear slips from my eye, running down my face and wetting the pillow. I'm ashamed. I let him touch me the way only Danny ever has… and never quite like that. I have to admit to myself, Cam brought things out of me I've never experienced before. Don't get me wrong, I've had orgasms—just… not as mind numbing as the one Cameron gave me. It makes me sad because it seems like I'm comparing them—Danny and Cam—and I'm not. They're the only two guys who've ever touched me so how can't I think about differences?
Danny is my first love and everything we did sexually we learned together. We experimented—a lot, and we laughed and made faces when it just wasn't working out. We sighed and moaned when it worked out so, so well. Those times, I hold them close to my heart. I wish we'd done things differently, made different decisions so we would have had more of those moments and memories. I wish we'd known…
I sniff back some more tears and wrap my arms around myself. God, I miss him. Danny with his too-long hair that curled at the ends. I smile. He hated those curls and cursed them frequently. I, on the other hand, loved them. They just fit him perfectly. I miss his eyes—those hazel-green eyes that saw to the very heart of me. He knew me better than I knew myself—just as I did him. His nose with the bump in the middle from the fight he had in grade school with Phillip when Phil lifted my skirt for "dress up day". They both bloodied each others nose and that was that.
And Danny's hands—his large, quarterback hands, the rough calluses, the gentle way in which they touched me, the unbelievable way they could throw a football with deadly accuracy. He'd never get his chance to show the world what he could do—and I know deep down in my belly he would have been a champion. When you see talent like that, you just know.
If… well, he'd be throwing passes here at Prospect and likely handing them off to Cameron Stone. While I loathe him, he's got that same talent as Danny and that talent is going to take him to the top. I feel sorry for those who have to deal with that ego when the time comes.
How did I get back to Cam? I sigh and sniffle. It came full circle. Ho
w could it not with Danny and Cam being in the same circles, loving the same sport.
The bed dips behind me and I hear leather crinkle. Without looking I know it's Sebastian. The scent of sandalwood and soap drift over me as he lies behind me, pulling me into him.
"You all right, Three?" he asks softly.
I nod.
"You don't seem it."
I can't answer, I just cry silently, hating myself.
"Tell me," Sebastian prompts. I roll over to face him. Gosh, he's pretty with his black hair and sapphire eyes. He'd be perfect—too perfect—if it weren't for the small scar over his eyebrow and the crooked nose. I think it's those flaws that have me trusting him enough to tell him everything—well, not everything about the night of the accident, but what happened. I sob through it and he holds me, comforting me, and then I tell him about Cameron—all of it.
"I'm so ashamed. I hate that I let it happen," I admit.
"Sweets, I hate to tell you, but that was going to happen whether or not you 'let' it… because what's circling around you and Stone is pretty fucking intense. Now I finally understand why," he tells me.
"I—"
"Hey, don't beat yourself up. It happened. Wouldn't you rather it be really fucking great than horrible?"
"No!"
"Really? I think I'd rather have it be toe curling than shitty. At least it makes what happened worthwhile, right?" he asks.
I look at him and shrug. "Maybe."
"No maybe about it. If it had to happen, at least you walked away satisfied."
I snort. "But—"
He sighs, interrupting me. "Look, Olivia. It's never the same with different people. Never. And the situation with Stone was different than what you ever had with Danny, I'm sure."
"How do you mean?"
He tucks my hair behind my ear. "You and Danny might have fought and had make-up sex...?" he prompts, and I nod, "…but it was nothing like the argument you had with Stone. The feelings are different. You love Danny, and Stone—well, I think saying you'd like to punch him in the face with a sledgehammer is putting it nicely."
I nod. "I guess."
"So, think about that. The intensity of hate—maybe not hate. That's a hard word. I'd have to say it's more anger, so the intensity of the anger you've got for Stone came through when he caught you off guard and fingered the hell out of you," he teases and I shove his shoulder.
