Olivia (35 page)

“
Then don’t think for a second you
invited his attention.”

I smile weakly. “I’m just really glad you showed
up.”

“
Was he forceful?” he asks, and a
line forms on his forehead as he once again looks at my agent. I
hesitate in answering him, sensing another spike in his temper.
“Was he?”

“
A little, yes.” With all of my
weight, I press against his shoulder to keep him from standing back
up and going after Abram again. Francisco helps my agent to his
feet while the officer stands rigidly between us and
them.

“
She’s seventeen, you pervert,” Jon
seethes. “I never did trust you.”

“
Livvy, what the hell is going on?”
Jon and I both turn our heads abruptly to face my father, who’s now
standing in the doorway.

“
Mr. Holland,” Francisco says. “I
couldn’t get in touch with Emi, so I assumed you would want to
know.”

“
Thank you,” Dad says, still
looking confused as he tries to assess the situation. “What
happened?” He notices Jon’s hands and walks quickly toward us. “Why
is he in handcuffs?”

“
He went after this
man–”

“
Abram,” my agent announces, his
voice weak, as he takes a seat on the large bed in the center of
the loft.
It’s the same bed that Jon and
I–

“
Can you please not sit there?” Jon
says, staring back at Abram. I smile smugly, wishing the request
had come from me, watching my agent find a seat on a nearby wooden
bench. Seeing my dad’s reaction to Jon’s request, though, makes me
happy I didn’t say it.

He rubs his temple and takes a few deep breaths.
“Olivia Sophia, I came home early so I could escort you to this
meeting,” he speaks evenly, “but why is there blood trickling from
your agent’s nose?”

“
Jon hit him.”

“
I gathered that,” he sighs.
“Why?”

“
It was just a misunderstanding,
Mr. Holland.”

“
Right,” Jon says. “Abram was here
alone with Olivia, and he tried to take advantage of
her–”

“
That’s not exactly true,” Abram
argues when he sees my father’s angry expression.

“
Tell me, then, what exactly is
true?” Dad walks slowly, flexing his own right hand as he nears my
agent.

“
Sir, please calm down,” the
security officer interjects.

“
I’m calm,” Dad says with an
intense smile. “Francisco, can you please get the guard out of
here?” my dad asks. “After he removes the handcuffs?”

“
I’m not sure that’s a good idea,”
Abram says as the color drains from his face completely–except for
the pink, swollen skin around his eye and the stain of red on his
mouth.

“
There will be no more punches,”
Dad assures everyone in the room. “I’ll take responsibility for
Jon’s future actions. Something tells me his past ones were
warranted, though,” he adds quietly. “I own this property, and at
this point, I believe
someone
in here is
trespassing, and I’d like to have a word with him.” Francisco and
the guard both look from Abram to Jon, not knowing to whom my dad
is referring.

“
Officer, please take the handcuffs
off the boy.” I help my boyfriend up as a key is slipped into the
cuffs and his hands are released.

Jon stretches his fingers before weaving them
between mine. I pick up our hands, noticing how red his knuckles
are. I bring them to my lips, kissing each one tenderly. Jon faces
me, and kisses my forehead after my lips leave his thumb. Dad
clears his throat to get our attention. I smile sheepishly, then
watch as Francisco and the guard both leave the apartment.

“
Mr. Holland, my apologies. I
misread Livvy’s signals, obviously–”

“
I did not give you any
signals
!” I yell at him angrily and wrap
my other hand around Jon’s bicep as he once again tenses up. “I
swear, Dad, I wouldn’t–”

“
Abram, she is
seventeen
,” my dad repeats Jon’s earlier statement.
“You are an adult that I trusted... after thorough background
checks, at that,” he says.

“
This isn’t a pattern, sir,” Abram
explains. “I care about your daughter. I was hoping she’d feel
something for me in return.”

“
You disgust me,” Dad says as he
stands over my agent. “You’re fired–”

“
Mr. Holland–”

“
Fired!” he yells once more. “I’m
going to follow you to the gallery you’ve set up, and I’m going to
apologize to the client–assuming there really was a
meeting–”

“
Yes, of course there was, sir, I’m
sure she’s wondering where we are,” he rambles, stumbling over his
own words. “I had no premeditated–”

“
Will you please be quiet?” Abram
nods submissively, tilting his head to the ground. “You’ll take me
there, I will apologize to the client, letting her know that you
are an opportunistic creep, and I will take my daughter’s paintings
with me. And you will never contact me or her ever again, is that
understood?”

“
Of course,” Abram
answers.

“
Good. Jon?” Dad says, turning
around to look at us. “I expect you to see her safely home. And you
should both be there by the time I get there. Is
that
understood?”

“
Yes, Jack,” Jon says.

Dad looks at his watch quickly. “I’ll be home in
thirty minutes.”

“
We’ll be there, Dad,” I assure
him.

“
Come,” he says to Abram, who
reacts abruptly. My dad follows him out of the loft and shuts the
door behind them. I look up to Jon and feel a sudden rush of
relief. I sigh as tension leaves my shoulders.

Jon leans in to kiss me, but I stop him before he
reaches me, covering my mouth with my hand. “Just a second.” I grab
a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water, taking it with me
to the bathroom. As soon as the door closes, my knees weaken. I set
the glass down carefully, leaning against the sink and staring at
myself in the mirror. My eyes begin to tear up as I reach for a
towel off the rack and rub my lips with force. I stare at the
cloth, noticing the red pigment, hoping that I’ve removed all of
Abram’s kisses. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and try to take
deep breaths to calm myself.

After rinsing my mouth out with the water, I can’t
stop myself from crying. My efforts to do it quietly aren’t good
enough. Jon doesn’t knock before entering the room.

“
Baby, don’t cry,” he says,
wrapping his arms around me. His affection makes me cry harder, and
I let him hold me for a few minutes while my emotions spill out in
waves. His hand caresses the back of my head, his fingers linger
gently in my curls. “Did he touch you?” he asks weakly, standing
rigidly as he waits for my response.

“
He... just pressed himself against
me,” I answer, wishing I’d never felt it. “He wanted me to know
what I
did
to him.”

“
I wish you had told me about that
sooner,” he says. “I would have made him regret that.”

“
You did enough.” I look up at him
through my lashes and smile, letting him wipe away my tears. I get
a glimpse of his dress shirt, noticing the makeup stains I’ve left.
“I’m sorry.” He examines his thumbs, dark with mascara, and laughs.
He moistens one end of the towel I’d set on the counter and starts
to dab the makeup off of my cheeks and eyes.

“
You
do
look sexy today,” he says. “Tear-streaked and
everything.”

“
You’re biased.”

“
I am,” he agrees, unbuttoning his
shirt and taking it off to reveal his undershirt. He runs the
faucet over the makeup stains. I take it from him and rub the
fabric together between my fingers.

“
My mom can help with this at
home,” I tell him. “Or I’ll get you a new one.” I scrub it a little
harder, scratching at the interwoven threads with my painted
nails.

“
It’s not a problem.” He puts his
hand on both of mine, stopping me. “It’s fine.” He takes his shirt
and sets it aside, pulling my body to face him. “Is it okay if I
kiss you now?”

“
That depends. Did you come here to
break things off?” I ask him, joking, feeling fairly confident now
that he didn’t.

“
I came here to talk about taking a
break–”

“
Jon!” I say, shocked. He puts his
finger over my lips.

“
But I realize I can’t do that. I
can’t stand the thought of life without you. The thought of you
being with anyone else. So no, I’m not breaking things off.” He
shakes his head at me to reiterate his point.

“
Then okay.”

He puts his hands on my cheeks and tilts my head,
leaning in very slowly to kiss me softly. His familiar touch is
welcome, and I let out a slight whimper as my fingers grasp the
waistline at the front of his jeans, pulling him closer.

“
Are you all right?” he asks
suddenly, mistaking the sound that escaped.

“
Don’t stop,” I encourage him,
returning to our embrace. His actions seem calculated and
deliberate, cautious but sweet.

His eyes still closed, and lips still mere
millimeters away, he whispers a question to me. “Did you drive
here?”

“
No,” I answer, the word forming
against his mouth. “I walked here from school.” As I take his
bottom lip between my teeth, he sighs and groans in
frustration.

His thumbs on my temples, he pushes me away gently.
“That means we have about three minutes.”

“
But you’re coming over,” I tell
him, rather than ask him. “I want to talk.”

“
I want to do a lot of things,” he
says with a laugh. “But we can talk at your place.” My cheeks flush
pink, and I kiss him on his jawline. When I pull away, I catch a
glimpse of the tattoo in the mirror. I push his shoulders to turn
him around and press my lips against it twice. I untuck the shirt
from his jeans, straightening it out for him when I realize he’s
not going to put his other shirt back on.

“
You’re about to tell me you have
nothing that I can put on over this, aren’t you?”

“
Yep.” I smile broadly, admiring
his reflection, loving how he looks. He takes a hard look at us,
too, grinning as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

“
Come on, then.” I slip my hand in
his back pocket as we walk toward the door. Jon picks up my
backpack and slings it over his shoulder while I grab my handbag
and take out the keys. “Please, don’t ever come here with another
man. Ever.”

“
I won’t,” I vow as I lock the door
behind us. “I never even thought of him like that.”

“
I know. I’m sorry, Liv. I’m sorry
there are people in the world like him.”

“
It just makes me appreciate people
like you even more.” He bends his arm, bringing me closer to him
playfully once we get in the elevator. He kisses the top of my
head.

“
I look like a thug,” he laughs as
he looks at himself in the mirror.

“
Like a gorgeous street thug,” I
sigh dreamily. “You know you look good.”

“
We don’t look like we belong
together,” he argues.

“
Shut up!” I slap him playfully on
his chest. “We look like we always look. And we do belong
together.” As the elevator reaches the bottom floor, he kisses me
just as the doors open to a crowd in the lobby. It takes me a
moment to realize that the crowd has gathered because of
me.

“
It’s Livvy Holland!” someone
exclaims, and flashes from cameras pulsate quickly. Francisco
shoves through the crowd, flanking my right side.

“
I’m sorry, Miss Holland,” he says
as he walks with us. Jon shifts his arm, moving his hand to shield
my face as he guides me through the large marble room.

“
What happened?”

“
There was a scene when your father
left. I had called the police when Jon walked past us, so they
showed up just before Mr. Holland came down. They questioned him
for a few minutes, and people outside took note... after he left,
more and more people showed up. I couldn’t keep them all
out.”

“
I’ve got it from here,” Jon says.
I can tell he’s still angry with Francisco about how he was treated
earlier. When we reach the front door of the building, we both see
an opening in the chaos to our left and walk quickly. There’s no
escaping the photographers, though. Jon stops abruptly and turns
around when we get to the first street corner on the way back to
school. “Could you all just back off? Please?” he yells. I bury my
face in his back, anxiously waiting for us to continue on our
way.

“
Are you Jon? The boyfriend from
Columbia who took the picture?”

“
No comment!” he states forcefully.
People start to shout questions out at me, each voice louder than
the last. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon adds
through gritted teeth. “Can you please leave her alone?”

“
He must be her bodyguard,” I hear
someone mutter in the crowd. Something about that statement makes
me smile.
Sleeveless undershirt. Muscles.
Tattoo.
Jon puts his arm across my back and pulls me forward
when he sees an opportunity to cross the street.