by Jackson Kane
Now that I heard some of it out loud, maybe I did go a little overboard on the list. Getting back to sleep was laughable, so I needed something to keep my brain occupied. Or else I was going to lose my mind over what happened.
“Why don't we just talk about what happened?” Bastien walked over to my side of the island and leaned on the counter top, inches from me. I could feel the heat wafting off his body, tempting me.
“I only saw those perfect tits of yours, Olivia,” He leaned closer, his breath a hot whisper on my neck. “It's not like I buried my face between your legs and made you come until your eyes crossed.”
A heady rush threatened to unravel me at the seams. God damn him for putting that image in my mind! I could almost feel his stubble grazing my inner thighs. My nipples hardened beneath my thick sweater.
Was I really wet again, already?
“Nothing happened, Bastien. And nothing ever will happen.” And I sure as hell was not going to discuss it, ever. I stormed off back to my room. He was the one person I never stopped thinking about and he was here in my house! For my own sanity, I needed to be mad at him right now.
Otherwise, I was going to explode and make every bad decision possible.
“At least read number forty-three for the party tonight.” I shouted back at him from the stairwell.
There was a pause as he checked the sheet. “What party?”
Chapter 6
Bastien
Past
“Yeah, Stacy's party,” I repeated. “Are you going?”
“That's not really my kind of scene.” Olivia looked at me warily as I held the auditorium door open for her. “Did you watch my rehearsal?”
It was cold and gray outside. It hadn't snowed yet, but you could tell that it was right around the corner. It wasn't technically winter yet, but New England didn't give a shit about what season it was supposed to be. It was the one thing I was looking forward to leaving behind when Dad came home and we were forced to move again.
I fucking hated the cold.
“Wrestling training got out early.” I lied. “I just caught that end bit, where you talk for a while, then off yourself.” I'd actually seen the whole thing, like I'd seen all of her rehearsals. I wasn’t going to tell her that though.
She was my good luck charm; I never seemed to lose any matches when she was around. When drama started up at school, I sat in on her first practice. I was planning to return the favor for her coming to my games.
But the first time I got here and started watching her, I quickly realized that she didn't need me the way I needed her. She was a born actress. Olivia was so focused and in the zone, she never glanced at anyone in the mostly empty auditorium.
Not that she'd see me if she looked anyway, I hung near the janitor's access and left right as she finished.
The second time I went was more for a break in the constant attention that surrounded me. Drama club wasn't popular with the crew that I hung out with, so it was nice to just disappear for a while, and not be bothered.
Then I started coming back just because she was really talented and I liked watching her act. Of course, I couldn't tell her that without sounding like a puppy and hurting my rep. When she was on stage, she became this different person, she was calm and confident.
It was really fucking hot.
I knew there was a hot chick buried in there somewhere, but she was always a friend first and up until then, I never thought of her any other way. Talking to Olivia made me start to see how hollow the in-click was. Even when I fucked my way through most of that crowd, I started seeing Olivia's face in my mind more and more.
Maybe I was just cursed to always want what I couldn't have. It was uncharted territory for me. When I thought of leaving this school, the only thing that really stung me was the thought of saying goodbye to Olivia.
“I don't know how you do it, Bastien. You make Romeo and Juliet sound even more romantic.” Olivia clutched her jacket, gloved hands over her heart, and sighed dramatically.
“What can I say, drama girl? It’s a gift.” I playfully shoved her. Our feet crunched along the frozen grass as we made our way to guest parking on the other side of the field. “And stop changing the subject. Who gives a fuck if you weren’t invited? Just show up.”
“You're kidding, right?” Olivia laughed, then took on a joking tone. “You're THE Bastien Kontos, you go anywhere you want and no one says anything. They'd probably even let you into the girl's locker room, if you asked.”
“That was only one time, and I definitely was not allowed in there.” I flashed her a joking smile, then switched back to the subject a third time. “Popularity isn't about who you are, it's about who people think you are. You're an actress, Olivia, and a damn good one. Stacy's party is just another scene in this big high school play we’re all forced to be in.”
“Actor,” she corrected. “It's a gender-neutral term.” I rolled my eyes at her obvious attempt to change the subject yet again, but didn't say anything else. Realizing she had to say something, I saw that the gears in Olivia's head were turning as she mulled it over. “You make it all sound so easy.”
“You're the daughter of the most in-demand actor on the planet right now. Play that shit up and you can own this school.”
Across the field, an obscenely nice-looking black Lexus pulled into the parking lot and idled impatiently for Olivia to hurry up. Her eyes looked heavier at the site of the car, or rather, at the sight of whoever was driving it.
“Yeah, well, no one asked me if I wanted to be born into the Ward family.” Olivia's joking withered.
I grabbed her hand, stopping her. “At least think about it, Olivia. You gotta step out of your comfort zone every once in a while, otherwise life isn't worth living.”
Olivia nodded, and I let her slip from my grasp. It was a lot harder to let her go than it should've been. As I watched her get into the car, I realized that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. It felt like I was on thin ice and it was cracking all around me.
Olivia was the only girl I thought about at all any more. I wasn't sure what that meant, but with me leaving in a few months, I knew it wasn't anything good.
She looked at me one final time before she got into the car. There was something in her eyes. Worry? Pain? I wasn’t sure. I staggered forward a step, an overwhelming urge to run up there and rescue her washed over me.
But rescue her from what? Or who?
The tinted driver's side window rolled down just far enough for a set of eyes to narrow at the sight of me. They were an older man's eyes, but they still looked like Olivia's. It had to be her father, Delvin.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a celebrity in person, and I could tell right away from his hateful glare, that he didn't like me.
What aren't you telling me Olivia?
Present.
“Olivia! You made it, how wonderful! Persephone will be so delighted to see you.” Hollywood handsome was the only way to describe the guy that met us by the entrance of his blocky, modern-style mansion. He was blond with distinct hawkish features and was thin to the point of almost waifish. He wore a white suit with the red face paint of some bird—kinda looked like a car company logo.
He was Olivia’s love interest in that popular movie franchise, The Burning Game. The one where the teens were forced to kill each other to survive.
Olivia, of course, looked incredible.
Her hair was done up in a layered bun, and she wore this shimmering, low-cut, pencil dress that made her tits look somehow even more fucking amazing. I couldn't stop stealing glances at her in the back seat when I picked her up from the salon. It gave me a raging hard on for the whole drive.
I couldn't get the image of her in the shower out of my head. It made me want to bend her over every fucking piece of furniture in this place. I didn't, of course, because that would be insanely bad for both of us. But now I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
“You
look simply to die for.” The blond man gave Olivia a light peck on the mouth.
I shuffled uncomfortably in my perfectly tailored tux. My knuckles cracked loudly from closing my fingers into fists. A flame brighter than the face paint this asshole wore flashed up the base of my skull.
Olivia snapped a look my way. Her eyes pleaded with me to not cause a scene.
“And who is this charming specimen?” The blond man turned to me. Confusion quickly replaced my anger as he blatantly checked me out.
Being checked out by a guy was…a new experience for me. Usually when guys stared at me we were about to beat the hell out of each other. This whole movie star thing was going to take some getting used to.
Number forty-three on her list was about proper party attire so I went all out. Twenty-thousand-dollar tuxedo. The look on her face when she first saw me was worth every penny. I hadn’t planned on the rest of the looks I’d be getting.
“Jeter, meet Bastien.” Olivia paused, then introduced us. “He's my bodyguard.”
The blond shifted over to kiss me the same way he'd kissed Olivia.
“Hi.” I stopped him abruptly with a hand on his shoulder, then extended my hand to shake so as not to be rude. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Jeter shook my hand eagerly with a sultry look in his eyes.
Olivia stepped in and struck up a conversation about a director I didn’t know to defuse the tension. I slunk back a few steps while they chatted.
Not two minutes into the Hollywood high society and I was ready to murder an actor who obviously wasn’t interested in Olivia sexually.
It was my job, but I did feel a little stupid for being so overprotective of Olivia. Jeter wasn't going to hurt her, I was just jealous. It should've been my lips on Olivia's, not some actor. That's why I could never watch her movies. The love scenes pissed me off too much.
How the hell am I going to survive the rest of the night?
“Was that concern for your client's well being, or just plain jealousy that I was kissed by another man?” We walked into the party proper; the smugness in Olivia’s voice was intolerable.
“That was me... misreading a situation.” I grumbled. “It doesn't happen often.”
“Because, it seems like you made quite the impression on Jeter. I can give you his number, if you're interested,” Olivia teased. It was nice to hear her sense of humor again. She hadn't said three words since giving me that insane document this morning.
“They have beer at this party, right?” I quickly changed the subject, trying to salvage some of my dignity. “I'm going to need a lot of that.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be guarding me?” Olive shot me a skeptical glance.
“Non-alcoholic beer.” At this point I’d take what I could get.
“Over by the bar, specimen.” Olivia laughed at me.
Part of me was glad for the mistake with Jeter. It was a long overdue ice breaker that gave me a little hope. Olivia and I used to be close, at least until I left. Ever since I'd come back into her life the sexual tension was there, but not that friendship that kept me alive during the dark time with my own family.
She was the best friend I’d ever had, and it always pained me to think that I'd lost that forever.
I leaned against the bar and watched Olivia mingle with Hollywood elite. She was in full-on movie star mode. I couldn't imagine teenage Olivia ever setting foot in a party like this. Now she glided between groups of celebrities with the same confidence and ease that I’d only seen while she was performing on stage.
I was surprised by the amount of seemingly straight actresses that flirted with her. Olivia was a big hit in the LGBT community after her public fling with another actress. There was a lot of buzz around her breaking away from mainstream, young adult films and taking on some alternative roles, but nothing had come of that yet.
Olivia glanced at me between groups. She was probably making sure that I hadn't run off, or embarrassed her by getting into a fight. Or, maybe she was still remembering what I looked like rocking just a towel and a smile.
Seeing her surrounded by people, and flirting innocently with Persephone for photos spurred the unrelenting jealousy to rise in me. It was tough, but I kept it in check better this time.
The only thing that kept me sane was noticing something about how she moved that made me see this more as one of her high school plays than a party. Olivia laughed and gossiped, seamlessly slipping in and out of the conversations at just the right time. I'd seen her act enough when she was younger to realize what she was doing.
She was just playing a part.
Looks like she'd taken what I said about social functions being just scenes in a play to heart, and perfected it far better than I ever could.
I’d told her once to crash Stacy’s party in high school to hang out with me and she actually did!
After what happened at the party I wish she hadn’t…
I got too fucked up too early that night and was a complete prick to her when she eventually showed up. It was the first of many mistakes I’d made with Olivia, and one that I always regretted the most.
“What can I get you?” The bartender finally made his way over to me.
“Beer. Whatever’s on tap,” I replied distractedly. I caught myself then quickly added before he could walk off, “Uh, non-alcoholic.”
The bartender completely stopped, raised an eyebrow and slowly shook his head.
“I’m working. Security for—. Oh for fuck’s sake…” I sighed, trying to explain myself before giving up completely. “Just give me something that doesn’t have alcohol in it.”
The bartender chuckled, nodded and started to mix me something.
I was a cage fighter turned billionaire and I was out of place at a house party?
In the few minutes that he was gone, Olivia materialized beside me. “You having fun yet?”
“I think I've outgrown the whole party vibe.” Or maybe it outgrew me.
“The Bastien I remember would've been right at home in one of these. You'd probably be walking out of the bathroom with a model by now.”
“Just one?” I asked, feigning being hurt.
Olivia rolled her eyes at me. She tried to hide it, but I could see something in her expression. Was that a degree of old jealousy?
The bartender returned with a fizzy, reddish drink in a large rocks glass. The rim was lined with an orange wedge, two cherries were speared and floating over the ice and a pink umbrella bobbed along the inside edge. It was the least manly thing I’d ever seen.
“Is that a Shirley Temple?” Olivia’s smirk deepened into a full-on smile.
“Looks like.” I drew my lips into a white line and begrudgingly slid the drink toward me. I was trapped in a building all night with people named 'Jeter' and 'Persephone’ and the only thing I could drink came with little umbrellas.
This was going to be a long night.
Olivia laughed and asked for the same drink. “Only, can you put a shitload of alcohol in mine?”
The bartender was quick to join in on the joke when his face lit up with recognition. “Holy shit. You’re Bash, aren’t you? I saw your fight on Bleecher Street. That was fucking crazy, man. You're a fucking legend!”
Dammit. Of all the places and times to get recognized...
“Bash?” I heard Olivia ask more to herself than to me. It sounded like she was putting together clues in her head. Who knows what Trish whispered to her at Delvin's place, or what she heard about me through the grapevine.
“Don't know what you're talking about, Pal.” I grabbed my frilly drink and left the bar.
I didn't have anywhere particular to go, just away from there. Olivia had enough shit to worry about, without all of my baggage.
There was a dirty, violent and remorseless world far beneath Olivia's deluxe condos and exclusive parties. When I abandoned her, I lived and died each night in the underground rings of illegal of bare-knuckle fighting.
I stopped being Bastien and became Bash.
Chapter 7
Olivia
Past
“Olivia... Who the fuck invited you?” Stacy said. She was surrounded by two girls, who bullied me all through middle school and ignored me all through high school. They stood several feet into the large entrance hall, blocking my way into the rest of the party.
“I did.” I walked into Stacy's house, stopped and addressed her as the whining toddler that she was. I imagined an audience behind me hanging on my every word, and the confidence flowed through me.
“Excuse me?” Stacy scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. She glanced at her friends for more support. “You best turn your nerdy little ass around, freak.”
“And who are you, exactly? The daughter of some slimy politician, right? I think your dad begged my father for an endorsement this past election. Maybe if the Ward family backed him, he wouldn't have lost so badly.”
At first it felt super weird tossing around these insults, but I'd practiced them like I did every other play. My costume, a preppy, designer sweater-over-plaid look, was flawless. I owned the entitled princess role and flaunted it.
Stacy and her friends were stunned speechless and made no move to stop me from entering.
“Nice house by the way,” I gave her another disdainful look when I brushed past her and went into the party. “It's almost as big as our summer home.”
When I rounded the first corner, I fell into the nearest wall. Holyshitholyshitholyshit! Did I just put Stacy Miller in her place? I couldn't believe I even had the nerve to show up, I felt ten feet tall. Bastien was right! If you don't like who you are, act like the person you want to be!
I needed to find him and tell him what I'd just done!
I'd picked up a clean, red cup and had it filled with beer, mostly because I assumed that that was what you did first when you went to a party. I had a great start and didn't want to screw it up.