by Angel Lawson
His words slammed into my chest. Like Oliver, he seemed fully in on this relationship with me. And the crazy thing was that it had nothing to do with sex. They’d barely laid a hand on me. Oliver acted a gentleman in my bed, never taking it further than a kiss and cuddling. Had he wanted to go further? His hammering heartbeat and the noticeable tent in his pants told me yes. Same with the way Jackson’s eyes swept over me. He made my skin itch. Burn. Like the only thing that would cool it off was his touch.
But that was what made these guys different. They were respectful. Of me and my situation. They cared. And every time they revealed themselves a little bit more to me, I fell harder.
A group of kids stumbled out to the deck, talking in loud voices and filling their plastic cups. The second they came into view, Jackson threw his arm around me protectively.
“You cold?”
“Not too much. The beer helps,” I said. The warmth of his arm felt nice and I snuggled into the hard but inviting muscles of his body.
We watched the group struggle with the tap. Spencer was hanging around the edges. I couldn’t help but notice him looking at me. He’d come up to me once or twice at school since the day he’d approached me in the parking lot. What a tool. He couldn’t even keep the leer out of his eyes and I heard the low rumble of protection in Jackson’s chest. Spencer turned away and eventually, they figured out the tap and filled their cups.
Once they were gone, Jackson moved back a little and said, “So what made you decide to go this route anyway? Not that I’m complaining. But is this really how you want to go down in high school history? As the easy chick? Because we can do this differently, you know.”
Of course that’s not what I wanted, but at the time what I wanted seemed out of reach. “It’s hard being invisible, Jackson. It’s something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
I took a deep breath, “I didn’t start this for attention, mostly I was just angry and lashing out. But then people did start to pay attention to me in a new way. Sure, some of it was gross or even mean, but after a lifetime of solitude it was at least different. What’s wrong with wanting someone to notice you?”
Jackson frowned and flicked his burnt cigarette off the deck. I looked away, trying to keep my emotions in check. I felt his cold fingers graze my chin and turn my face toward him. “People have always noticed you. The right ones. Don’t ever think differently.” He slid over and pulled me into a tight hug. It was nice, safe, and that ball of anxiety that I carried with me each and every day unraveled just a little bit.
I pulled back, just enough so that I could see his face. He looked down at me, eyes glued to mine. Jackson was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. His tongue darted out and I couldn’t help but stare at it. Him.
Everything around us fell away. The party. The music. The prying eyes. Jackson’s hand pressed urgently against my back. I pushed up on my toes, not wanting to wait a moment longer.
“Are you sure?” he said, eyes darting behind me.
“They want a show, let’s give it to them.” But I knew he was aware this wasn’t about them. It was about us.
“I thought you’d never say that.” He smiled with a lazy, sexy grin.
He planted his mouth on mine and a jolt runs between us. Pure chemistry. I slammed into him, pinning him against the porch rail, and his cold fingers slipped beneath my coat to the warmth of my belly. I jerked, laughing at the sensation, but he didn’t let my lips leave his. His tongue tasted like beer. His body felt like paradise and the longer we went and the more intense it became, I truly have no freaking clue why I waited so long.
Chapter 10
Things I remember from that night:
● Lime green Jell-O shots made with vodka.
● Sitting close to Jackson on the back porch in a big, cushioned swing the size of a couch.
● Jackson’s arm around my shoulder.
● Noticing he smelled like laundry detergent and that special boy scent. I may have sniffed him.
● Anderson’s smile.
● Oliver re-enacting a scene from some play from the third grade where he played a carp.
● Feeling dizzy and needing to use the bathroom.
I wobbled when I stood, swaying just a bit. I felt Jackson’s hand steady on my back. Ever since we kissed he hadn’t stopped touching me. I kinda hoped he never would.
Anderson, who came outside a few minutes before, seemed intent to burn a hole in our flesh with his intense, disapproving glare.
“You okay?” Jackson asked.
I smiled. It felt funny and real but not real, since I was drunk. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I can go with you,” he said.
“I think I can handle a trip to the girls’ room on my own, but thanks.” I leaned over. “Anyway, I think your boyfriend wants a little time alone with you.”
He glanced at Anderson and grimaced but gave me an understanding nod. Oliver was good with the situation. So good that when he spotted us from the game table kissing he gave us a double thumbs-up. Hayden? I hadn’t seen him in over an hour. He was most likely camped out in front of the huge TV watching the football game. Who knew? But Anderson? He didn’t like what was going on with me and the others. He hadn’t said so, but his death glares made his feelings clear.
I stood and tried to ignore the way the porch swam around me. Just like I ignored the way everyone at the party kept looking at us. I hated the eyes on me but I loved the way it felt being so public with Jackson. In some ways it was like we’d transcended these people.
I had already been to the bathroom a couple of times so I knew it was in the back of the house. I just had to navigate through the dining room (beer pong), the kitchen (Quarters), down the hallway (groping couples) to the bathroom next to the laundry room. The door was locked when I finally made it there, so I leaned against the wall to wait. Leaned may be an exaggeration. Slid to the floor into a pile may be more appropriate.
The bathroom door opened and I considered going in, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get off the floor. Moving seemed really hard.
“You need some help?”
I looked up and saw Spencer standing over me. Gross. “No.”
He quirked an eyebrow and watched me try to manipulate my legs bound in repressively tight pants into a standing position. The heels didn’t help.
I sighed and reconsidered.
“Dammit. Yes, can I get some help, please?” I stretched an arm out and he tugged me up.
“You’re wasted.”
“No shit.”
He looked around. He looked a little drunk, too. His hazel eyes were a little unfocused and his normally pale cheeks were red. “Where’s Hall?”
“Outside. With his boyfriend.”
He laughed, tossing his head back. “Those two. One day they’ll come out.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, loving how close those guys were. “Okay, I gotta use the bathroom so...” I walked into the tiny room, closing the door behind me. Spencer was okay. A little dumb, definitely pretty. He used to have long, stringy hair that he cut off over the summer. That simple move increased his looks exponentially.
I took a minute in the bathroom, smoothing my hair, adjusting the neck of my shirt to maximum reveal. May as well give Jackson a good view since he was being such the doting boyfriend tonight. When I opened the door, I jumped in surprised to find Spencer waiting for me when I walked out.
He smiled and I ignored him and moved past.
“Hey wait,” he said and pulled me to the side. His hand felt weird and clammy. I stumbled behind him, still a little wobbly on my feet. He led us further down the dark hall. “So how long is this thing with Jackson gonna go on?”
Of course. He still believed the rumors. I shook my head. “However long is none of your business, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t be like that.” He pressed a hand against the wall next to my head and leaned in. Hayden pull
ed the same move a few days before in the garden. The way he did it was sexy. Spencer, on the other hand…I felt the prickle of anxiety travel up my spine. “Maybe when you’re done with him you can spend some time with me.”
Oh god. Just. No. “I really don’t think so, Spencer, but thanks for the offer.”
“Whatever, Heaven, it’s not like you have standards. You’ve got quite the trail of discards already. Blackwood melted the ice queen. I’d just be happy to be next on the list. You won’t regret it.”
Prick. “Are you kidding?”
He smirked. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He moved his other hand to my hip and dragged me close. I felt his erection in his pants. Bile rose in my throat and panic stole my voice. “You’re really pretty hot. Peel away the hoodie and wow, smokin’ hot body. I never knew you were packin’ all that and now I want to see the rest of it.”
I forced my vocal cords to comply. “Shut up.”
Did he really think those were compliments? That girls wanted to hear his skeevy lines? Feel his disgusting boner? I cringed while his eyes roamed over my body. I gather the courage to knee him in the junk when someone came and pushed him aside. Thank god. I really didn’t want to see him cry over his broken balls.
“Beat it.” The voice came from the shadows.
Spencer hesitated, his jaw tensing. “Dude, mind your own fucking business.”
For the briefest of moments, I thought maybe the guy would listen. He would walk and I’d be left alone with this pervert. But a pale hand came down on Spencer’s shoulder and I blinked, recognizing those hands from countless days of passing notes and sharing assignments.
“Heaven is my fucking business.”
Spencer turned around, ready to fight, but he flinched, jerking his shoulder free. He’d just been caught hitting on a girl that came to the party with another guy, by that guy’s angry but completely loyal best friend. That’s who saved me.
Anderson Thompson.
“She’s not worth it anyway,” he muttered, pushing past Anderson. His words hit me like a slap and I watched dumbly as Anderson shoved him down the hall.
“Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking hands.”
Spencer flipped him off and vanished into the party.
The panic attack which had been rising since Spencer cornered me consumed me like a wave. Tears sprang to my eyes. Stupid. Fucking. Anxiety-driven tears. I wiped them with my sleeve and glanced away, unable to face Anderson, who had just done something incredibly brave and charming and made me feel mushy inside, but then I remembered something. He called me a whore. He’d been a dick all night. How dare he play the knight in shining armor?
“I didn’t really need your help, Thompson.” Which maybe would have been a convincing statement if I had not slurred my words in the process.
He snorted. “Of course not. I can’t image you would ever get in a situation you couldn’t get out of.”
“Shut up.”
“No,” he replied quietly. “I won’t.”
I quirked an eyebrow, or I tried to, anyway. My face was suddenly feeling numb. I hated him for being so right and so wrong at the same time. “You think you know me,” I said, “but you don’t.”
We stared at one another. Dangerous words hung on the tip of my loosened tongue, daring to spill out. I wanted to ask him why he was angry with me all the time. Why he couldn’t just accept me like the others. Why so hot and cold?
Before I could speak he said, “I think you’re better than all this.”
“You think I’m a whore. You think I’m trash.”
“No.” He shook his head and stepped away from his side of the hallway, closer to where I stood. “I don’t.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for your friends, especially Jackson. You think I’m cheap and slutty and dress like a hooker.” I couldn’t stop. The verbal filter I’d tried so hard to keep on had loosened with eight shots of vodka-infused Jell-O.
“You have no idea what I think.” His words were quiet. Daring. And because I was drunk, I was willing to push this a little more.
“You never tell me,” I challenged, strong and forceful, but a wave of nausea passed over me and I tried to steady myself against the wall.
Anderson moved his arms to stabilize me because my legs were no longer working. “You okay?”
“I’m tired.”
He laughed. “I know. I think it’s time to go home.” He was using his body to keep me upright, pressing me against the wall. It felt really good to be so close to him.
I reached out and brushed my fingers through his hair. Jesus, I’ve wanted to do that forever. I pushed the long strands to the side and caught a glimpse of his apple-green eyes. My hand moved on its own, touching the scratchy stubble of his cheek. “Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you, Reeves.”
“Yes, you do.”
We stared at one another for a long moment.
“Come on, let’s go find Jackson.” He moved his arm around my waist. I sunk into him for support and pressed my cheek in his chest. His T-shirt was so soft. I wanted to crawl into it and just sleep.
“I drank too much.”
“I think you did.”
“You smell good.”
His chest vibrated with laughter. “Thanks.”
Anderson dragged me down the hallway. I could hear Jackson’s booming laugh in the kitchen, followed by Oliver’s. I saw Jennifer whispering to Spencer and Spencer watching us. Amber and Benjamin were making out on a chair in the living room, oblivious to everything around them. Eric ran by with a towel on his back pinned like a cape and the music was so, so loud. Everything was loud and fuzzy and…
Anderson stopped and looked down at me with eyes as green and wobbly as lime Jell-O and lips way too pretty for a boy.
“Heaven?” His voice was a million miles away. Were we under water? “I really don’t hate you.”
The way he said it was sweet. And earnest. And totally genuine. Which was perfect. There was really only one thing I could do in a situation like this.
I was going to do it. I was going to tell him how I felt, except the instant I opened my mouth all the nerves and alcohol and drama came up in one swift wave.
I puked.
All over Anderson Thompson’s feet.
Chapter 11
Things I don’t remember from that night (but were relayed to me the next morning by Oliver):
● Puking all over the front porch of the house.
● Threatening to punch Spencer in the face (and taking a swing and missing)
● Jackson carrying me to the car.
● Anderson washing his shoes off with a hose.
● Anderson pulling the car over so I could puke again and falling out of the still-moving car on my face.
● Asking Anderson if he knew his eyes were the same color as lime Jell-O. (No, apparently he did not know this.)
● Oliver and Jackson sneaking me up to my room so my mom didn’t catch me.
“I did not fall out of the car.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Oliver came back over around noon to check on me after my mom left for work. He found me moaning on the bed, eyes closed, willing myself not to get sick again. I watched as he got off the bed, closed my open laptop and plucked a hand mirror off my dresser. I grimaced when he held it up. Ouch. Road rash.
I gently touched the side of my face, feeling the scrape. “Why did you let me do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “Take this.” He handed me a bottle of water and some pills. I swallowed both and prayed that neither came back up.
“Well, that was embarrassing.” I looked for Oliver to agree but he had a weird expression on his face. “What?’
“Anything else?”
“Not that I saw, but really once you started hurling I tried to get out of the way.”
“Are you sure?” Oliver looked wary. I thought about my night. Talking to Jackson,
swinging on the porch, going to the bathroom, Spencer, Anderson, puke. It was all there; fuzzy, but there.
“Yeah, babe, I promise.”
I raised an eyebrow. I liked it when he called me babe.
I leaned against the headboard. “Tell me what else I missed after I puked on Anderson’s shoes. Exactly how mad was he?”
“He wasn’t that mad. Promise.”
That didn’t seem right. “You sure?”
“Nope. Not even when you puked on his car.”
“I didn’t.” Oh my god. Horrified.
“You did. All over the side.”
I started laughing because, blech, how gross. “Good thing he already hates me.”
“Babe, no one hates you. Not even Anderson. Actually, he felt pretty awful. He had no idea how sick you were.” He watched me carefully. “He told me about Spencer. In the hallway.”
The overall memory was pretty fuzzy but the fear I felt with Spencer and Anderson’s protective nature wasn’t something I’d forgotten. “He defended me. I was pretty surprised, considering how he feels about me.”
“That’s not all he did,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. You need to take it easy.”
“I got drunk, Oliver, I’m not sick.” I sat up and grabbed his hand, threading my fingers through his. “What did you mean?”
“Well,” he said, watching me carefully, “after cleaning off his shoes and dropping you off, Anderson went back to the party to pick up Hayden, who got left in the shuffle. Spencer was on the porch, bragging about kissing you outside the hallway.”
My hand moved to my mouth. “He didn’t.”
He shook his head. “He did, because he’s a grade-A douchebag, but don’t worry. He won’t bother you again.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling something was missing. “Why won’t he bother me again?”
Oliver’s blue eyes hold mine and his jaw tics. “Because Anderson and Hayden kicked his ass.”
