Laney (8 page)

Ashton grabbed his beer, the one Oliver had switched, and looked at it with surprise. “I thought I was almost finished with this one,” he stated, then shrugged and began chugging it. I wondered how many of those he had downed. Ashton and alcohol did not mix. This was a bad idea.

Carter was overly attentive to Kiera. He was leading her onto the dance floor for a slow dance and she looked so happy; they both did.

Avery scooted to the seat across from Oliver. I glared at her.

“So, Oliver?” She smiled with smile that must’ve cost her daddy a pretty penny. “Tell me about yourself.” She casually flipped her hair back and then crossed her arms on the table so that she could stick her chest out even more than it was already protruding. She was squeezed into an ice-blue corset top with white trim. It was so tight I thought it might pop one of her over-inflated boobies. Even in the dim light, I could see that she had on a thick layer of make-up. Black eyeliner surrounded her small eyes, making them look even more cat-like than usual. Her pouty lips were shimmering with lip gloss.

Her smile relaxed as she glanced at me, then it quickly returned as she focused back on Oliver. I felt that heat of jealousy again. I wanted to push her out of her seat. I wanted her to know he was mine.
HOLY CRAP! Where did that come from?
He wasn’t mine; I just wanted him to be. I was shaking my head, trying to recover from my enraged inner fit, when Ashton grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet and began leading me onto the dance floor—more like dragging me; you can’t lead the unwilling.

I dug in my heels in protest, but it didn’t help. He pulled me tight against his body as I struggled to get away and he shoved his leg between mine, hiking my skirt up a little too far. I tried to push him away, but I couldn’t budge him and he was too close for me to knee him again.

“Let. Me. Go!” I said through gritted teeth, still shoving at him.

“No, you know you like it.”

“No, I don’t!” I screeched, still pushing at his chest. His arms were wrapped firmly around me, preventing me from getting away. He smelled like he’d worn an entire bottle of cologne; it burned my eyes.

I screamed, “Stop it!” as he nuzzled into my neck and pressed his lips against my skin. I continued my struggle with no success.

The music was so loud and it was so crowded I doubted anyone could hear me scream. My heart was racing and I was pissed.

One of his hands slid down my side and onto my bare thigh. Just as it started its way under my skirt, I reached back and was able to put enough force into a smack upside his head that he staggered a little, but didn’t let go of me.

He was so drunk it didn’t seem to faze him as much as I’d hoped. He squeezed me tighter against him and I screamed again.

“You know you want me,” he said in slurred, arrogant words and his hand started working its way up my skirt again.

“Get off me!” I screamed and struggled with all my strength.

“Come on, Laney. You want me. You always have. Just admit it.” His speech was slurred and his words made me feel ill. He reeked of cologne, beer, and arrogance.

“I don’t think she does!” The words were chilling and fierce. Ashton stiffened. I stopped struggling and turned my head to see who had said it. It was Oliver. His eyes were dark, his body was tense, and his fists were tight.

They locked glares as Oliver reached for my hand. I took it and he pulled me from Ashton’s arms. He placed himself in front of me protectively. He leaned toward Ashton and, with what sounded like a low growl, said, “Stay away from her!” Ashton stepped back, looking somewhat frightened.

I couldn’t help feeling victorious.
Stupid jackass!

Ashton glared at us, then sulked back to the table.

I was shaking with anger, but I wasn’t the only one. I laced my fingers with Oliver’s and tugged a little then led him to a bench away from the crowd. We sat there for a few minutes and Oliver still had my hand. I took several deep breaths trying to calm myself while I seriously considered the prospect of a restraining order against that dumbass. Oliver was focused on something that wasn’t there, seeming like he was trying to calm himself as well. Once I had steadied myself, I put my free hand on top of our hands and he blinked and looked down at them and then at me. He appeared to be coming back to himself. He smiled, but it seemed like a challenge.

He stood, not letting go of my hand and nodded toward the dance floor. I smiled a shy—or was it a nervous?—smile. Probably both.

He led me onto the dance floor. He put one arm around my waist and gently pulled me close to his body. Without letting go of my hand, he pulled our arms into his chest and held me tight. I rested my other hand on his firm upper arm. I looked up into his beautiful green eyes and I saw nothing else around us. There was a strange connection between us. I felt a pull toward him and the feeling that flowed through me was amazing. It seemed that he felt it, too. He held me so close and so tight. Even in the stuffy, warm bar his body was cool against mine, and whatever he was wearing—it was like all of my favorites smells wrapped into one.

I didn’t even hear the music. I rested my head against his chest and he rested his head against mine and pressed me tighter against him. Being in his arms felt perfect and right. Then, after what didn’t seem like long enough, he sighed and reluctantly let go of our embrace, except my hand. He led me off the dance floor, back toward the table our friends were at. I felt woozy and lightheaded. My hormones were surging and my heart was beating a little heavier than usual. I needed to sit, badly.

When we sat with the others, I noticed Ashton and Avery were gone. Not one of us spoke of it, knowing exactly why they had left. I stared at my hand, my fingers intertwined with Oliver’s, and couldn’t help the smile that formed.

The bar had gotten really busy and we all agreed it was time to leave.

I hit the bathroom with the girls before leaving.

“Wow, Laney! He seriously has a thing for you,” Zoey said, as she reapplied her lip gloss.

“And her for him,” Kiera added.

I felt my cheeks flush as I smiled. I waited for them to finish.

“You two are beautiful together.” Zoey continued. “Imagine how pretty those babies would be.”

“Whoa, Lady! You’re going a little too far, too fast,” I said.
Holy cow!
It wasn’t like my fantasies hadn’t taken me there, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

Kiera and Zoey told me that, after the encounter Ashton had with Oliver, he was fuming and then when he saw us on the dance floor, he got really pissed, grabbed Avery, and took off.

“Good! He’s an idiot!” I couldn’t help myself, thinking about how arrogant he was and what a jerk he was to do that to me. It made me happy to think about how Oliver had come to my rescue, just like the Knight that he was.
How cheesy
. I giggled to myself as we left the bathroom.

The boys were waiting for us near the exit. Oliver was casually leaning against the wall. He smiled when he saw me and reached his hand out for mine as he pushed himself off the wall. I took it willingly; a jolt surged through me as our fingers laced together.

As we started down the steep steps, Oliver chuckled.

I shot him a curious glance. “What?”

“This song,” he snickered.

I listened for a minute. It sounded familiar, but I didn’t know what it was. “What about it?” I shrugged.

“It just made me think of the original.”

“There’s an original?” I loved music, but I was pretty sure I didn’t recognize this as an “oldie” or a remake.

“Yeah, from the early ‘90s,” he trailed off, his voice quiet now, like he wished he hadn’t said anything, or like he’d just remembered something about it.

“You seem to know a few things about the ‘80s and ‘90s. You into pop culture?” He laughed out loud—just one sharp “Ha.” It startled me. It was beautiful, lyrical, and frightening all at once.

Then Kiera fell down the steep steps of the club. She slid on her knees down three or four steps to the bottom and was hurt. Dropping Oliver’s hand, I rushed down the last few steps and crouched beside her.

“Ow,” she said in pain, wincing as Carter helped her up.

“There’s nothing to see here, people,” Zoey announced, as others stared at our little group while walking past us on the sidewalk or up into the club. “Move it along, people. Just keep moving.” She gestured with both hands for the looky-loos to keep going.

Kiera was favoring a knee. We moved out of the way of the entrance, Carter propped her up against a large cement planter near the street, and we crowded around her. “I just fell down. I’m okay.” She was trying to play it off like it was no big deal.

“No, you’re not,” Carter argued. He was trying to get her to sit down so he could look at her knee.

“I’m fine!” she snapped, obviously embarrassed. Her face was bright red.

“I think she got dizzy again. She said it happened a couple times tonight,” Carter said.

“Kiera, honey, you’re bleeding,” Zoey said, rushing forward. She crouched in front of Kiera to examine her knee and her dress fanned out around her. Kiera’s jeans were ripped at the knee and blood had started to soak into the fabric. I took a couple steps back to make room and bumped into Oliver. He was standing behind me, transfixed on the scene. I glanced at his face and something didn’t seem right. It took me a moment and then I realized that the green in his eyes was gone. I gasped. He blinked a couple of times and focused on me; now the green was back. Maybe I’d just imagined it. Maybe my strawberry daiquiri hadn’t been a virgin, after all.

“There’s nothing we can do for her here. Let’s get her home,” Carter said, taking charge. “Oliver, any chance you drove?” he asked.

Oliver shook his head.

“Piggyback her,” I said. They all shot me a “what the hell?” look.
Idiots.
“Give her a piggyback ride,” I said again, slower this time. They seemed to get it.

Kiera had trouble hopping up onto Carter’s back. It seemed like such a simple thing, but she was favoring one knee and trying to use only the other one to hop onto his back. It was actually quite comical to watch and I had to stifle a giggle. Oliver gave me a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Then he easily lifted Kiera onto Carter’s back.

The night air was cool as we walked home. There was a slight breeze and it felt good; it had been hot for so long and the bar had been somewhat stifling. It actually felt like fall was finally coming.

Oliver and I walked silently beside each other, just behind the other three, as they laughed and joked about Kiera’s fall. She did seem to be quite clumsy, now that I thought about it, at least when Carter was around. Oliver was distant and way too quiet. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders were hunched a little, and he seemed focused on kicking little rocks and oak balls out of his path. I thought about sharing my oak ball thoughts, but then figured it might not be so wise—some thoughts are best kept to yourself.

Not knowing what to say, I started focusing on my flip-flops.
Flip, flop, flip, flop—huh, they really do make that sound—flip, flop, flip, flop
. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make them “flip, flip” or “flop, flop.” I was lost in my flipping and flopping when I heard Carter curse quietly. I looked up, assuming Kiera was getting heavy on his back, when I saw Ashton and four of his buddies throwing a football around in the street in front of their frat house.
Crap!

We were across the street and a couple houses down from the frat house when they saw us and started walking, more like staggering, toward us.

“Hey, guys. Have a good time?” Ashton taunted, his gaze fixing on me and Oliver. It was obvious he was far from sober.

Carter spoke. “That’s enough, Ashton.” We kept going. We were across the street from the frat house now.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Ashton hollered, throwing the football in our direction. It missed us, but it pissed me off.

I spun around, but before I could yell, Oliver grabbed my hand. I looked up at him and he shook his head at me. “It’s not worth it, Laney.” I calmed a little at his words and we began walking again. I wanted to hit Ashton. I wanted to slap him hard across the face, or, better yet, I wanted to slap him across the face with my flip-flop.

Ashton didn’t like being ignored. “Hey, I asked you a question!”

“Leave it alone, Ashton,” Carter said, as Kiera slid off his back.

“Hey, Laney. Did you tell your boyfriend about us?” He laughed and my blood boiled. There was never any “us!” I got a mental image of punching him and then me running like hell. I figured he’d hit me back.

“Just keep going. Ignore him,” Oliver said quietly.

“She finally giving it up to someone? It’s about time!” he chuckled and taunted some more. “I about had a piece of that, but she couldn’t handle me.” He and his buddies laughed.

“Go to hell!” I screamed, as I spun around. I was pissed and, apparently, so was Oliver. He turned around and something like a growl rumbled deep in his chest. My eyes widened as he looked me straight in the eyes and told me to stay there. He turned and started for Ashton and Ashton for him.

I was terrified. Zoey was right beside me and she grabbed my hand for comfort.

“Laney, your hands are cold,” Zoey said.

“She’s always cold,” Kiera said, hobbling over to us as Carter followed Oliver—obviously as back-up.

“Seriously? My body temperature isn’t really a concern right now,” I said, gesturing toward Oliver and Ashton.

“Apologize to her. Now,” Oliver boomed, storming over to Ashton. “You do not talk about her like that!” Oliver’s voice came out in a ferocious rage. I felt goose bumps cover my body and Zoey squeezed my hand more tightly.

Ashton rushed (staggered) up, took a swing at Oliver, and missed.

“Drunk bastard,” Zoey murmured.

Ashton swung again and this time Oliver caught Ashton’s fist in his hand with no effort. Our mouths gaped; we were stunned. In one swift movement, he twisted Ashton’s arm behind him and took him to the ground, face first, putting his knee on Ashton’s back. Ashton’s friends rushed forward, but another rumble came out of Oliver and they all took several steps back. Even Carter took a step back.