Hale Maree

by Misty Provencher

  “Fine,” I mumble, staring straight ahead.

  “Then lay back,” he says, moving aside.

  “Nope, that wasn’t the deal,” I tell him, but Oscar pulls me backward and jumps on top of me, pinning my arms to my sides with his knees.

  “It’s definitely the deal,” he says, lowering his chest down until it almost touches mine. His hair brushes my cheek as he whispers in my ear, “You just didn’t ask for the details, Hale. And you know what they say...the devil’s in the details.”

  His lips run like a sigh along the base of my jaw, warm and soft. He stifles a groan against my mouth and his fingers slide into my hair. I struggle to get my arms free, but he’s still got me pinned at the wrists with his knees.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he whispers into my mouth. “You stay right where you are and let me kiss you, like you promised.”

  He nips my collarbone and an electric current flows down my spine. It feels so good; I close my eyes tight and let myself drift into his kiss. He places a kiss where his teeth were a moment before, the sting taken away by the soft, moist, warmth and I arc off the bed a little to meet his body as it presses against mine, stretching up to meet his mouth.

  The pressure on my arms suddenly disappears and I blink open my eyes. Oscar is still hovering over me, his gaze digging into mine and his mouth curled into a grin.

  “You’ve been kissed, Hale,” he says. “You can have the phone.”

  “No,” I whisper back, threading my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him back down to me. “More.”

  “I’d like that too,” he says. “But we’ve got a nosey house guest downstairs, for one, and for two, I don’t like to be rushed when I start kissing you. What I plan on doing with you is going to take time. Hours. Days, even. And since it’s going to be all new to you, I want you to learn how to enjoy it.”

  I drop back onto the mattress with a puff. Oscar takes the phone from the nightstand and lays it beside me.

  “All yours,” he says. “Are you ready to be all mine?”

  “Stop it.”

  “I’m serious,” he says and,, since his expression reflects it as much as his tone, I just ignore him as I hold the phone over my head and dial Sher’s number.

  #

  “Where the hell are you? Are you okay?” Sher blasts through the phone as soon as she hears my voice. I have to pull the phone away from my ear for a second.

  “I’m fine. I’m at a beach house.”

  “With Ocker?”

  “Yeah,” I say as Sher inhales dramatically.

  “Oh my God oh my God, oh my God! Did Ocker kidnap you? Wait. Did you dad just let him take you away? Your dad didn’t even want you dating! Are you married? Oh my God, Hale, you’re like one of those captive brides! Is this perv building a harem or something? Are you a Sister Wife? Oh my God, he’s in a cult, isn’t he? Wait. Are you still a virgin?”

  “Slow down,” I say the words slowly for emphasis, but my cheeks heat up. Oscar is reclined in the catcher’s-mitt-chair, a finger on his temple and one on his jaw, watching me. I hope he can’t hear Sher across the room, but when I hold the phone away from my ear, I can hear her loud and clear. I flip over onto my other side, putting my back to him.

  “I’m just staying here for a while,” I say.

  “Staying or tied to a closet bar?”

  “Staying. He invited me to his dad’s beach house and we’re here with his friends.”

  “What about the whole marriage thing?”

  I drop my voice. “I don’t know about that yet,” I say, and then, I feel Oscar slide onto the bed beside me. He curls himself against my back and murmurs into my hair, “Ask your friend if she wants to meet us at town hall to be our witness.”

  His proximity makes me forget everything we were just talking about. On the other end of the phone, Sher says, “Was that him? Did he just say that?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Ignore him.”

  “He’s got a totally sexy voice. Who’d expect that from an Ocker?”

  “Did she just call me Ocker?” He chuckles near my ear.

  “Oh my God, did he just hear me?” Sher squeals.

  “Yup,” Oscar says over my shoulder. He puts out a hand for the phone. “Let me talk to her.”

  “He wants to talk to me?” Sher’s voice rises to chipmunk altitude. I shake my head, but Oscar grabs the phone from me and swings away to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Hello?” he says and his voice is all deep and caramel-y. I know Sher is probably peeing herself on the other end.

  “Uh,” I hear her giggle, “hi.”

  “So you’re Hale’s best friend?” he asks. He’s met with more rapid-fire giggles.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “It’s good to meet you then,” he says. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Hale?”

  I swoop over his shoulder and try to shout into the phone, “No, don’t tell him anything, Sher!”

  I doubt she can hear me through all the giggling. I doubt she’s even breathing properly. She doesn’t really answer, so Oscar just goes ahead and asks anyway.

  “Can you tell me what her favorite food is?”

  Sher bubbles, “Apples!”

  “Interesting,” Oscar says, turning to give me a raised eyebrow. “What are her hobbies?”

  “She reads everything. All the time.”

  “She did mention reading,” he says. Sher giggles even more. “What’s her favorite color?”

  “Purple!” she squeals.

  “Purple,” Oscar repeats. I make a grab for the phone, but he twists out of my reach. “Lavender or violet?”

  “Violet!”

  I groan and drop my hand over my eyes.

  “You definitely know Hale,” Oscar says. Sher finally stops giggling.

  “Well yeah, she’s my best friend,” she says.

  “Since you are, would you do us the honor, Sher...” he begins, but Sher shrieks into the phone, “YES!”

  Oscar laughs. “Would you be a witness when we get married?”

  “YES, YES, YES!” Sher shrieks again. I tear the phone out of Oscar’s hand and he lets it go with a smirk.

  “Hello!” I bark into the phone to calm Sher down.

  “Oh my God, you’re getting married! I’m going to be your bridesmaid! I can’t believe it!” Sher’s screaming. She’s so excited that I want to just float along on the whole fairy tale with her.

  “Nice, bestie,” I mumble at her, trying to press down my smile. “Whose friend are you anyway?”

  “Yours!” she squeals. “And his! I think I love him already!”

  Oscar struts across the room. “My mission here is complete,” he says, as he reaches the top of the stairs. He flashes me the peace sign. “Ocker, out.”

  His smile beams, satisfied, as he tromps down the stairs.

  #

  After whatever the kissing led to, between Amy and Landon, by the time I come downstairs, Amy is sitting primly at one end of the couch, as if she’s being punished. She looks up when I step into the living room and frowns at me.

  “Do you know where Oscar is?” I ask. Amy’s gaze makes goose bumps jump up on my arms. She gives me her hard stare a moment before she shakes her head.

  “Where did you come from?” she asks.

  “Upstairs...”

  “No, I mean, where did you meet him? Who are you?”

  “Our fathers knew each other...”

  “How long?”

  “They grew up togeth...”

  “I’ve known him for the last two years and he’s never mentioned you,” she says. Her eyes narrow. The guilt of what’s happened to Sophia overwhelms me, as her best friend stares me down.

  “I didn’t mean for anything to happen between Oscar and me,” I stammer.

  “Hard to believe,” Amy snaps. “Especially since you’ve got him wrapped around your pinky. He doesn’t even seem to notice there’s anyone else in the room besides you.”

 
; “It’s not like that,” I say, but I have to look away to lie, because I know how Oscar’s eyes follow me. Amy doesn’t buy any of it.

  “It’s exactly like that,” she says. “He didn’t even look at Sophia like that and he was so totally into her—but you—he’s enchanted with you. It’s like you’re a witch or something.”

  It’s not the kind of thing you say ‘thank you’ to. Amy’s face remains pinched as she drills me with her eyes. We stay locked in our positions: she, staring bitterly from the couch, and me, frozen on the braided rug until I hear a car door slam. At first, I’m scared to pieces that Oscar might abandon me to go to the store with Landon that the two of them might leave me behind with this viper of a girl, but then something even worse happens.

  The front door swings open.

  “Ames! Where’s OC? Aren’t you guys making dinner yet? One of you could’ve given me a ride up here, you know!” Sophia says.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SOPHIA FOLLOWS AMY’S UNWAVERING GAZE to me, like a trail to dynamite. Her eyes travel up my legs slowly, pausing at my waist, again at my boobs, assessing my hair and, finally, resting on my face. I do the same to her. Sophia of the Pretty Names should also be Sophia of the Pretty Faces. I expected her to be pretty, but expecting is nothing like seeing her standing in front me.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “Hale,” I say weakly. Sophia gives me a confused grin and looks back to Amy.

  “Josh’s girl?” she asks, but Amy shakes her head. Sophia turns to observe me again, with a curious, puppy-tilt of her head. “Who else did Oscar invite? Not Rosen?”

  “No,” Amy says. The sunroom door bangs, and we all turn to see Oscar and Landon.

  “Hey, Soph,” Oscar says. Sophia doesn’t seem to hear the awkward casualness in his voice. She lights up with a warm smile for him. “Didn’t expect to see you up here.”

  “Bet your ass you didn’t,” Amy grunts.

  The excited light trickles out of Sophia.

  “We were supposed to have Landon’s birthday. I took off work,” she reasons softly. Oscar’s eyes flash to me, and Sophia catches it. She glances at me, then back to Oscar. “Who is she?”

  “This is Hale,” Oscar says. “And you and I need to have a talk, Soph. In private.”

  Landon crosses the room to the couch and taps Amy on the shoulder. “We should go into town and get that stuff we were talking about,” he says. Amy shrugs him off, but she stands and grabs her purse off the corner of the inflato-bed.

  “You want to come with us, Hale?” Landon asks. One sour glare from Amy reinforces how little I want that to happen.

  “No thanks. I’m going to go upstairs and read,” I say, even though I don’t have any books with me. Sophia and Oscar remain like statues in the middle of the room as Amy and Landon go out the front door. I escape up the stairs, but Sophia’s voice chases after me.

  “Why is she going upstairs? Who is that girl, Oscar?” she asks. I sprint up the steps and fling myself onto the bed. I climb under the covers and hide from the impending conversation, the way I once hid from monsters in my closet.

  “Let’s go outside,” I hear Oscar suggest.

  “You want me out?” Sophia asks. There is a long pause, followed by their footsteps crossing the floor. I hear the gritty scrape of the sunroom door and the bang as it closes. I wait for the door to open again, for Sophia to charge through and hustle up the steps to me, but after several minutes, I creep out of the bed to the window. The overhang and trees obscure anything right below, but I twist the handle on the window and push it open. Their conversation washes in. I fold myself up on the floor to listen.

  “I didn’t expect it to happen like this,” Oscar says, “but I’m relieved it did.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Come on, Soph. It’s over. I know what you’ve been doing.”

  “Me? What am I doing? You’re the one that snuck away and brought some girl up here. So what exactly am I doing to you?”

  “You’ve been cheating on me, and I found out about it,” Oscar says flatly. “The guy tracked me down to confront me.”

  “Who?” she shouts.

  “I don’t know his name. He didn’t give me one.”

  “What did he look like? Because I have no idea what you’re talking about!” she shouts at him. “You’re the one that disappeared, and I had to find out from Amy that you were up here! And you’ve got a girl up here with you!”

  The silence that follows makes my skin itch. I lean my ear closer to the window. Sophia’s voice finally floats up, weak and watery.

  “Oscar,” she breaks down in hiccupping sobs, “Tell me what’s going on. I don’t get it. Someone’s got to have me mixed up with someone else.”

  “The guy knew you by name, Sophia. He knew my car. He knew my name. He told me that you two had been seeing each other. He told me he’d been seeing you and he wanted me gone.” Oscar says.

  “Don’t you know I would never do that?” Sophia whispers through her sniffles. “None of this is true. Why aren’t you getting that? Some weirdo says something about me and you just automatically think it’s true? Why wouldn’t you even bother to ask me?”

  More silence. It drags out so long, I lean my head on the window and the hinges squeak. I worry for several seconds that Oscar and Sophia heard it down below, but then they begin talking again.

  “Maybe you’re not lying” Oscar’s voice sounds confused and distant.

  “Of course I’m not,” Sophia says. “You know I love you. I’d never cheat on you. I don’t know who that guy was, but it’s not true. It’s not.”

  “I believe you,” Oscar says. He sounds disturbed, and miserable, and relieved, all at once.

  “Did you get with that girl because you thought I was cheating on you?”

  “No,” Oscar says, and then he tells her the lie he said he would. “I met her because our fathers are doing business together.”

  “Oh,” Sophia squeaks the tiny word, and I hear her trying to choke back new sobs. “So where does this leave you and me?”

  Oscar doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he says, “If you don’t know who that guy was, Sophia, than there’s something even bigger going on. Somebody’s trying to mess with me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but I have an idea. Someone who was after more.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Not until I know for sure,” he says. I wonder if he’s looking up at the window. If he’s talking about my dad. Or me.

  I want to go home.

  And then I hear Sophia say, “Oscar? I don’t care what you did with that girl up there. I don’t. I don’t even care that you doubted me. I still love you, and I’m sorry this all happened.”

  “I’m sorry it happened too, Soph,” he says softly.

  I start to feel like I’ve got the flu. I wipe my palms on the edge of my shirt. I picture him down there, scooping her up in his arms and kissing her. That same kiss he gave me, pulling her lip through his teeth, sending Kryptonite into her legs.

  I don’t want to hear anymore. I crank the window shut as quietly as it will allow, get to my feet, and scoop up my bags. Oscar took his phone with him, or I’d call Sher. Or maybe just a taxi. Anyone that could get me out of here so that Oscar and Sophia can get back to being Oscar and Sophia without any Hale to get in the way.

  I head for the stairs, but before I even get to the top, I hear his footsteps jogging up. Maybe he’s going to take me home. Maybe he’s coming to throw me out. I back away from the stairs, and when he hits the top step, Oscar catches the bags hanging off my shoulders, and his brow hikes upward in surprise. He closes the bedroom door behind him and clicks the lock.

  “You going some place?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I hang my head, worried to say the wrong thing. “I figured I’d just get out of here. Looks like you and Sophia have some stuff to work out.”

  Oscar’s gaze flicks to the window that I had
open a moment ago, then back to me. He takes a step toward me, hands up as if he’s going to wrap them around my arms, but I shuffle backward. He drops his hands and his voice.

  “What’s going on, Hale?”

  “Nothing. But your girlfriend’s here now, and I don’t want things to get any weirder than they already are.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he says. This time, he moves toward me and I move away, but he keeps coming, backing me up across the room.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. “You don’t have to lie. I’m relieved. We don’t have to go through with all of this now.”

  “You’re relieved?” The sadness that arcs across his face and doesn’t jar my sympathy at all. He’s downstairs telling Sophia he’s still in love with her, and now he’s backing me into corners, acting like he’s so sad that I want to leave. Sher was right. He wants a harem. It makes me want to punch him in the mouth.

  “I’m leaving,” I say. He’s backed me into the middle of the room. I shift to one side, to walk around him, but Oscar shifts too, blocking my way. I move to the other side and he moves too. I drop my bag, pull back, and swing for his face.

  Oscar catches my hand and, like lightening, he spins me around and pins my arm behind me, right between his chest and my back. I lift my foot and try to bring it down on his instep, but he jumps free, jerking me back with him. Wiggling in his grip, I try to slam my head backward into his nose and hit something that makes him curse, but he doesn’t let go. He tightens his hold on me.

  “Don’t do that again,” he growls in my ear through gritted teeth.

  But I do. I try to swing back my head again, but he twirls me around. I stumble and hit the floor. It knocks the wind out of me, and he’s on top of me before I can recover enough to kick him in the balls. He gets my hands in his and holds them, while I thrash uselessly beneath him.

  After a few seconds, I realize I’m not going anywhere. My hair is stuck to my face, and I puff to get it out of my mouth. Still pinned, Oscar smiles down at me, as if we’re just playing a game, except that a bruise is spreading across his cheekbone. I got him after all.