Later that night I spot Oliver by the bar. He is alone. I walk up to him, wondering if now he’ll tell me exactly what he is planning. I hate games, I hate not knowing what to expect. There are so many questions and so little time.
“Oliver, I'm here, so stop running away and talk to me.” I poke him on the back.
He turns around slowly studying my face. Something flickers in his eyes and my chest heaves when I recognise the warmth and worry.
“Go away, India, unless you want to make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have,” he says quietly, leaning towards me. His body sends warm vibrations right down between my legs and I feel a flush of heat run down my back. I focus on his lips, imagining him kissing me. If I were sober I would walk away, but right now I'm drunk and nothing is going to stop me. I lean towards him, inhaling his unbelievable cologne. Our faces nearly touch.
“Why are you here, Oliver? Is it because of me? Stop acting like you don't care because I know that you sent Jacob to rescue me.” My voice is barely audible, but I know that he can hear my every word.
“You mean nothing to me, Indi. You're just a meaningless particle of Braxton air. I can't wait for you to vanish.”
“I don't believe you,” I whisper, as his eyes drill a hole in my heart to pull me closer. His gaze is heavy on me and I want him to forgive me, but he’s changed so much that I don't recognise him anymore.
“You are delusional, Indi. I would never find you interesting. I don't even want to look at you right now, so do me a favour and disappear.” A girl that he was talking to earlier appears by his side measuring me up and down. Oliver pulls her closer and then he kisses her.
My whole world ends and I'm falling back to the darkness. The pain slides through me like I'm just about to pass out. His body collides with hers in smooth rhythm. The demons capture me back and pull me right down to hell to face Christian.
Slowly, I turn around and walk away. The tears streaming down my cheek and his hollow voice circles in my brain; he doesn't want me, and whatever we both felt, it's long gone. It's clear that he will never forgive me. I move between people, looking for the way out.
Then I hear the voices and spot Dora. She is storming towards Mackenzie, and before anyone can stop her, she throws a punch at her and they both go down to the floor.
“Dora, what the hell are you doing?” I shout, trying to grab her away, but she pushes me away screaming.
“You bitch, you don't fuck with my friends!”
I jerk her off Mackenzie, who seems to be in shock. She touches her face. There is blood everywhere. People are staring at Dora and me. I have to get her out of the club.
“You broke my nose!” Mackenzie cries and looks like she wants to fight, but then strong arms catch her before she can get to Dora and me. My breaths are shallow and I'm drunk enough, but I recognise Oliver. He is holding his arms tightly around Mackenzie.
“Get her out of here,” he snaps at me.
He doesn't need to tell me twice. Jacob appears by my side, and we both grab Dora. We drag her away from the club, catching a taxi home. The rest of the night is hazy. Dora throws up in the toilet a few times before she passes out on the sofa.
My mind spins, and I see myself with Oliver in a world where Christian doesn't exist. I regret now that I didn't tell him. I should have spit the truth at Oliver's face. Then he would have forgiven me. He would have known why I became such ruthless cunt, an individual without any feelings.
Tonight he proved to me once again that nothing has changed. We are still enemies. He doesn't care about me, and he never will. I'm still alone.
Chapter thirteen
Real devil
Past
Christian was throwing a party to celebrate his scholarship. He was moving faster through high school than anyone else and in a couple of month’s time he would be leaving Gargle to go to university. People were talking about how promising his career was going to look in a couple of years. As far back as I could remember, he always wanted to play rugby and he was lucky that someone saw how talented he really was.
Christian had told me enough about his wounded family and the fact that he resented his mother for her illness. I had no idea how he managed to convince his mother to let him have a party, but their relationship always surprised me. Mrs. Morgan went out of town, to visit some distant family, and his father as usual was absent. Oliver was right to some extent: Mrs. Morgan favoured Christian. If Christian wanted something, he got it straight away. I hated seeing Oliver hurt and portrayed as the unimportant son who could never do anything right.
I discovered the reason when I once overheard Mrs. Morgan talking to herself in the kitchen. She saw her own husband in Oliver. She saw a weak man, who never really loved her or took care of her. The man that she had to marry to please her own parents. I never told Oliver that I heard that, but I understood why he kept away from others.
I wasn't looking forward to Christian’s party. I was scared of him after the incident in my bedroom. I told my mum that I fell over. In a matter of weeks he’d changed and I didn't recognise him anymore. He talked about sex all the time. He kept coming around when he wasn't expected. I knew that he was planning something and I was scared. I didn't bring up his outburst in the bedroom, and he pretended like nothing had happened. But I was determined to break up with him. I was ready to get rid of him. He was planning to leave anyway and I still had two years of high school to go through. Long distance relationships didn't work and I finally wanted to gain my freedom.
I showed up at the Morgans’ house on Thursday evening with decorations for his party. He was in training until eight and was planning to come home straight after that, so we could spend some time together.
Reluctantly, I knocked on his door and then let myself in. Christian had made an extra key for me and his mother mentioned that I could just come in if there was no one at home. I put the box with decorations in their pristine kitchen. I dialled Christian’s number, but he didn't pick up, so I left him a voicemail. The Morgans’ house was beautiful with a wide open plan kitchen and living room. Mr. Morgan worked as a software engineer, and he made a significant living because he was willing to be away from home.
I started unpacking the decorations, wondering if I should just go home instead of waiting for Christian. My mind raced when I thought about his mood swings.
I went upstairs and used the bathroom, and when I came out every tiny hair on the back of my neck rose. Oliver stood in the hallway looking at me. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his long black hair hung around his bare shoulders and chest. My breath came short and I stood there staring at him, wondering if I should just leave. Being alone in the house with him was torture.
In the past few weeks I’d found it difficult to be in the same room with him. Whenever I saw him my pulse started racing, and my mouth went dry in an instant. I couldn't take this anymore. I wanted to tell him the truth about how I felt about him
“Oh hey, I wasn't sure if anyone was at home,” I said, sounding oddly rough like I had a sore throat. My body tensed and I waited for him to say something, but he just stood there looking at me, studying me. His blue eyes looked right through me, watching as I struggled to breathe.
Oliver slowly approached me. He never worked out, but he was well built and I couldn't draw my eyes away from his naked chest.
“I think we should take advantage of the fact that we’re alone,” he said standing in front of me. A couple of times Oliver let me know that I affected him the same way he affected me, but since that kiss in the cinema he hadn't tried to touch me at all. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you in my room.”
“What about your brother? He’ll be home at any minute,” I hissed. He smiled, melting away all the hesitation. He took my hand and walked me to his room, before I protested.
“Don't worry about him. He will be quite preoccupied tonight.”
“But—”
“No buts, I know what I'm talking about.” He smirked.
“I’ve got something important to show you.”
His room was dark, filled with posters of his favourite band. He was a Goth and he was into the occult and all that supernatural bullshit. People always made fun of him and his mother couldn't stand it, but I didn't mind. I liked that he was trying to be different.
He sat on the floor, dragging me to sit beside him. His touch sent a surging heat down between my breasts.
“What have you got to show me?” I asked, my voice hoarse. He looked at me with those diamond eyes and touched my cheek. A smile broke over his lips. His touch was unexpected and filled me up with explosive desire. Whenever Christian touched me I felt nothing, just an odd tingle of unease. I wasn't capable of feeling anything when he was around. It was like I was made of stone, locked within my own insecurities.
Oliver's touch brought something new and fresh. When I was with him my stomach twisted with longing and my body searched for his closeness.
“This, and I hope you don't mind,” he whispered. He leaned towards me and pressed his mouth over mine. Our lips connected with a mind-blowing kiss. Every part of me screamed that I should stop this before I couldn't control myself, but my heart thumped faster.
When Oliver ran the tip of his tongue over my teeth and I moaned with pleasure. His palm held my face and I let go of the fear that I was doing something wrong. He pushed himself on top of me sliding between my legs, where he fitted in perfectly.
“India, I've waited for this moment for so long,” he whispered, and I arched my head back enjoying as his fingers caressed my skin. The collision of emotions jetted over us. It was like someone woke me up from my deepest dream. Like I’d been living a different life before; I’d been kissing a wrong guy. And now I was finally making the right choice.
His lips moved over mine like a fire welcomes oxygen. His fingers started to unbutton my shirt. He began planting kisses down my neck, selecting only the most sensitive parts, devouring me completely and utterly with his whole body. His hand cupped my breast and the heat shot through my stomach down to my core, filling me with a pool of warmth and lust.
His long hair dropped onto my shoulder, and I laughed when he planted kisses on my stomach.
“I'm going to break up with your brother on Saturday,” I told him.
He lifted his head and his eyes burnt with anger. “We’ll talk to him together. This has been going on for too long.”
“He will get angry. He won't accept it.”
“I don't care.”
“Promise me that you’ll be there with me?” I asked.
“Of course I'll be there,” he assured me, taking a deep breath. “Christian doesn't love you, India. He is only with you because he knows that I want you.”
“What?”
He didn’t respond for a long moment and I began to wonder if Christian suspected anything. He couldn't have known how I felt about Oliver. I was a good actress and never let him doubt me.
“He suspects something. He kept you away from me for too long,” he revealed, kissing me again with the smile “He told me that you will never be mine, even after his death.”
“Christian is not a god,” I said, sounding tense. “It will all be over on Saturday. I don't care anymore what anyone will say. I’m not alive when I'm with him. I can't do this anymore.”
We didn't talk anymore. Oliver didn't let me think about his brother. During that evening I was his and for the first time I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew that he could protect me.
By the time Christian came back, I was gone. That night Oliver didn't go any further, but we were both tempted. We couldn't sleep together while I was still involved with his brother. But I couldn’t pretend any longer. That night we made a mutual decision that I would go to the party as a Christian’s girlfriend, but I was leaving single. I'd been waiting years to break away from Christian, but I never had the guts to actually go through with it.
I didn't know that during that party I would not only lose Oliver but the better part of myself.
Present
I wake up in mid-morning remembering clearly that dream from the past. If Oliver would have kept his promise and shown up, things would have been different between us. I pull away from those memories that keep hunting me down even if I close my eyes and try to forget.
Right now I feel like someone drilled a hole in my head and poured boiling water inside it. My eyes are sore, my throat burning. I want to hide under the covers and stay there until I feel like myself again. That’s why I stopped drinking in high school. I used to be a party animal. I drank to the point of passing out, all because I was trying to erase what happened the night of Christian’s party, pretending that I was in that perfect world where Christian had never been born.
Then the memories from last night’s birthday party flash in front of me, and I want to slap myself hard that I touched alcohol. Dora hit Mackenzie for me and Oliver humiliated me again, kissing some strange girl just to show me that he’s moved on.
His hatred is like a poison. It crawls over me and spreads slowly, causing turmoil inside my heart that still beats for him. He did everything in his power to ruin my good mood, to show me that I never meant anything.
When I finally drag myself out of bed, it's late morning. Half an hour later, Dora appears in the door with her sex hair and half naked Jacob. It looks like Dora is suffering much more than me. Jacob was on his best behaviour yesterday, but he let Dora off the leash and that was a mistake.
“You making coffee, Indi?” she asks, yawning.
“I guess so,” I reply, feeling a little more alive now. Dora probably doesn't remember much from yesterday, so I make both of them a coffee and pull some croissants from the cupboard. After I swallow a few painkillers and get some caffeine in my system I'm ready to lynch my best friend.
“Did I really punch Mackenzie last night, or was it just a dream?” she asks.
I sigh. “Yeah, you did. You shouldn't have. I told you to stay out of my business.”
She smiles like she is proud of what she did. “She asked for it, and I was defending you. Besides, you should have punched her long time ago. Do you remember like in high—”
“Dora, this is not high school!” I shout, slamming my hand on the table. “I've changed. I was immature and irresponsible then. Punching Mackenzie wasn't a solution to the problem. Now she will look for revenge.”
Dora shoots me a sharp look, biting into her croissant. Jacob isn't even looking at me. I don’t think he expected Dora to be so violent. As I said, she is full of surprises.
“All right, fine. Chill out,” she says. “Mackenzie is a bitch and she deserved that.”
“I was planning to handle that myself,” I add. “I lost my temper a little when Oliver showed up and—” I don't finish my sentence, knowing that I said too much already, but even with the hangover Dora narrows her eyes with annoyance. That short remark wouldn't escape her.
“What about Oliver? What did he do now?”
“Nothing. Don't worry about it.” I cut her off quickly. I don't want to discuss my emotional meltdown from yesterday in front of Jacob.
“Jacob is on your side, so don't worry about him,” she says waving her hand. “Right, bear?”
“Oliver is my best mate, but I won't play his games anymore. Besides, we aren’t on the best of terms right now.” He gives me a wink with his blackened eye.
“He didn't do anything. He just wound me up, then insulted me when I questioned him about why he showed up at your party,” I explain, but my stomach twists with cramps when I think about his cold, hatful expression. I wasn't upset about the fact that he showed up. I was upset because he treated me like I was no one, just some random girl that wanted to get his attention. Like the past didn't matter. I know that it’s my fault that he acts this way. I’m dealing with his hatred the best I can. We should be even soon, but I want him to forgive me.
“Right, India. Oliver is my best mate, so it bothers me that you can't see what he is doing,” Ja
cob says unexpectedly, running his hand through his hair. “He isn't hurting you because he wants some sort of payback. He has a soft spot for you, feelings that he can't deal with.”
I clench my fists and look away, hating Jacob for telling me this in front of Dora. She has been my best friend for years, but I never shared with her what was happening inside my heart all these years. She always thought that Christian and I were a perfect couple. She wanted to be like me.
“What are you talking about, Jacob?” Dora says. “Oliver isn't interested in India. She ruined his life in high school, so now he is striking back.”
“No, Dora, you're wrong,” Jacob says, shaking his head. “Despite what went on in the past, Oliver wants India, but he can't have her. That’s why he is hurting her. I have never seen him look at any other girl the way he looks at India.”
Dora is looking from me to Jacob like she has no idea what Jacob is talking about. I start chewing my bottom lip. My brain starts working faster, digging deep down for some kind of excuse. Dora can't know that Oliver and I had a history in high school. She would never understand this, and her boyfriend isn't buying my I-don't-know-what-you-are-talking-about expression.
“Don't be ridiculous, Jacob, I mean nothing to him. He said that to my face—just before he tried to eat the face off the bimbo who was with him,” I say bitterly.
But Jacob is clever. He keeps looking at me like he already knows the whole truth. “I think that Oliver hit me because Dora asked me to introduce you to that new bloke, Russell. Oliver knew that Dora was planning to hook you up and him up. He couldn’t take it, so he released his frustration on me. Besides, when he heard what Mackenzie did to you, he went mental. He trashed his room and then sent me down there to rescue you.”
I try not to listen, but Dora finally grasps what Jacob is saying. Her jaw drops open and she gets up abruptly.
“Oh my God, India! Jacob is right. Oliver wants you. That’s what this is all about,” she hisses, looking like her hangover is over. Yeah, she’s finally figured out that Oliver's hatred isn't only about me. I hate that I kept that part of my life from her, but I could never bring myself to tell her the whole truth.
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