Caving, I reached behind his head and took him. Ollie smiled before our tongues collided, spinning me into a rapture, whirling me into a heaven of him. His warm body melted against mine as his tender lips marked their territory. The gentle sucking only left me wanting more. I gripped his hair, pulling him closer, tasting him. Ice and fire. Nothing was ever enough. A familiar light ignited, and I held on to it a moment longer than I should have, before I pushed him away.
I kept him at arm’s length. “Why?”
Our breathing was erratic.
A mix of defeat and determination washed over his features. “Because I’m selfish,” he whispered and wet his already glistening lips, “and I don’t want anyone else to see any part of you.”
I was jealous of how freely Ollie spoke. I was jealous of the way he had no barriers to hide behind. He wasn’t afraid of anything—rejection, feelings, or the way I was going to destroy him. He wasn’t scared at all.
“Remember, you’re doing this to yourself.” I’d warned him too many times. Now, this was his doing. Not mine. My only problem was having to live in his aftermath.
As I stepped away, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist to prevent me from taking another step. He tilted his head to face me. “You’re in denial.” I jerked out of his grasp and found my seat back in the circle. All eyes were on Ollie as he stood in silence with his fingers gripping his hipbones, breathing still reeling from our kiss. “What?”
“Nothing …” everyone said in unison, averting their gaze and darting their eyes around the room. Ollie fell back onto the mattress and reached for the bottle of whiskey off the floor. He took a long, hard sip as the conversation went back to normal.
The game came to an abrupt end afterward, and the atmosphere died down along with it. Time passed, and Isaac passed out at the end of the mattress. Bria inched her way closer and closer toward Ollie as he finished off the bottle by himself.
His last comment about me being in denial replayed in my head. I wasn’t in denial. What could I have been in denial about? Making myself very clear, I’d told him I had no interest in him. I couldn’t feel. My feelings were all a reaction to the buzz. It would pass. He thought he could come to my rescue with a shirt and a kiss, but I didn’t need saving.
“What did you do to Ollie?” Jake giggled in my ear. The whiskey in Jake’s breath and his inability to whisper both told me he was toasted.
Ollie slumped against the wall, rambling things I couldn’t make out. He could hardly keep his eyes open as Bria tugged on his hair.
“Watch this,” Jake whisper-shouted, pointing in Ollie and Bria’s direction. Glancing back over, Bria swung a leg over Ollie’s lap and my stomach jumped into my throat. He tried pushing her away, but she continued circling her hips over him. “Three … two … one …” Jake counted down, and suddenly Bria forced her lips against Ollie’s. “Like clockwork,” he added, and slowly shook his head.
My stomach lodged in my throat was now doing backflips. “Do they do this when Ollie’s not … when he’s not drunk?”
Alicia joined in on the conversation. “You have to understand something. Ollie doesn’t mess around. He’s not the type.”
“What do you mean?” I couldn’t take my eyes away from Bria’s back as her fingers moved across Ollie’s bare chest—across the chest of the boy who made me feel things I was still trying to understand. My insides twisted as Ollie placed his hands over her arms to pull himself away. No one seemed to care, and with each passing second, the pit in my stomach grew bigger and bigger.
“Ollie provides the fun, but he doesn’t participate. He never gets in on it,” Alicia whispered. “The only time Bria can try to have a chance, is when he’s tore up.”
“Bloody hell, she’s right.” Jake chuckled. “You’re the only one Ollie has willingly kissed, let alone jerked off in front of.”
“So, none of you ever hooked up with him? Not even a kiss?” I asked, and I wasn’t sure why I cared so much in the first place. All I wanted to do was get Bria off him, her hands off him, her lips off him. Ice frosted over my skin in a cold sweat as my eyes burned a hole to the back of her head. Ice and fire. This was different, though. Rage.
A blue and red twisted rage.
Alicia and Jake both shook their heads. “He refuses every time.”
My brows snapped together. “Not even Bria?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “She’s way more into Ollie than he will ever be into her.”
Jake interjected, “Yeah, Bria normally goes for Isaac by the end of the night. She’ll screw him in front of everyone, but I suppose since he’s passed out first, Ollie was next on her list.”
“This is sick in so many ways, even for me.” My attention stayed on Bria, watching her like a hawk. Suddenly, Bria stood and shimmied off her shorts and panties in one swoop, and my rage turned into a silent mania, slithering through the fire in my veins.
“What do you mean even for you?’” Alicia asked, utterly oblivious to what was happening in front of us, or completely discarding it altogether like it was normal.
“I’m all about sex and a good time, but this is rape! You can’t tell me Ollie knows what he’s doing right now,” I shouted, pointing in Ollie’s direction. Bria sat back down over Ollie’s lap.
Alicia looked over to Jake. “Yeah, but is it our place?”
“Hell yeah, it’s our place.” The mania influenced my legs as I stood to my feet. A few strides later, I peered over Bria as she gripped his length. Like glass, the frost shattered and all was left was the painful fire inside me.
“Mia, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jake called out, but I didn’t listen.
Gripping Bria by her dumb short hair, I dragged her off and away from Ollie. “What’s wrong with you?” I shouted as she clawed at my hand.
Bria struggled to her feet as her words slurred together. “Get the fuck off me!”
As I threw Bria against the wall, Jake and Alicia stumbled to their own feet. My fist clenched at my sides and I looked back at Ollie who remained oblivious to what was going on around him. He slumped over against the wall to his side before I turned my attention to Bria.
“He’s not a toy you can play with whenever the hell you want …” My eyes darted around the room, and everyone glared at me in a shocking silence, except for Isaac.
Isaac was still passed out in the bed.
Bria’s face turned red as she slid down the wall until her bottom hit the floor. She wouldn’t dare come after me. Shaking my head, I returned to Ollie’s side and fixed the waistband of his boxers and sweatpants, then lifted his head off the wall. “Ollie, you got to wake up,” I said, holding his head in my hands. Ollie struggled to open his eyes. “Why did you do this? Why did you put yourself in this situation?” It broke something inside me to see him so fragile and defenseless. “Ollie, open your eyes for me.”
Ollie’s lashes fluttered open, and his beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and broken.
“Mia.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry.”
And his eyes closed again.
As I guided his head over the pillow, everyone exited the dorm through the vent. Staying by his side, I wasn’t going to leave the room until Bria was far away from him.
I understood sex. Hell, I understood drunken sex. I could accept messing around, experimenting with genders, and living in the moment, but nothing about this was okay. No one should be allowed to violate someone who didn’t have the right mind to say “no.”
I wondered how many times this had happened. How many times Bria, or anyone else here, had touched him in ways he didn’t want to be touched. How many times he had he gotten so drunk, where he was oblivious to whose hands were on him and whose lips were on his. If I hadn’t been here, how far would this have gone?
My adrenaline soared through the roof as I paced the dorm room cleaning beca
use I couldn’t sit still, and I had lost my chance of leaving already. Isaac was still passed out, hanging off the end of the mattress. Maybe when, or if, he woke, we could help each other out of here.
Eventually, my nerves calmed, and I took a seat on the floor beside the mattress. My eyes grew heavy as I fought to keep them open. Even though my fingers ached to scratch Ollie’s back and swipe my hand through his hair, I was afraid to touch him. He lay on his side as he rested his hand under his head beneath the pillow. I admired his slightly parted lips, soft pink and perfectly made, and the small freckle off to the side of his mouth. What was it about him that made me do these crazy things?
Chapter Eight
“Leaving her breathless in my aftertaste
was the worst way to leave. The best was
to stay, but she isn’t ready for me yet.”
—Oliver Masters
I MADE IT IN time to my first group therapy session on Thursday and found an empty seat in the circle. Unfortunately, the whole crew was present, amongst other students I’d seen in passing. Everyone greeted me with a small smile but stayed quiet for the most part. Group therapy had to be the place where Isaac, Jake, Alicia, Bria, and Ollie had been brought together.
Chairs faced each other in a circle in the dark room, and in a corner lay a dusty piano under a lit floor lamp. The piano stared back at me, taunting me. My fingers itched to feel the cold keys, and my ears ringed, begging to hear the music my fingers could produce with each stroke.
“A musical genius,” my mother used to call me, but I hadn’t played since before she passed. It was bizarre, of all the places, a piano was in this room. My gaze touched over the black and white details, and I wondered if the F-chord still caused my pulse to skip.
“Mia Jett?” a dark-skinned man announced from the circle, breaking my attention away from the piano. I didn’t know he was the counselor. He could have easily passed as one of the students with his young features. Not a single wrinkle or imperfection marked his dark and creamy face.
I nodded, and he continued, “Please, introduce yourself.”
“It sounds like you just did. Why don’t you tell me your name?” There was movement throughout the circle as if I had stepped over an invisible line.
“You can call me Arty,” the counselor said, my comment not taking him by surprise one bit. “Tell us why you’re here. This is a safe environment, I can assure you.” There was no notepad in his lap and no pen in his hand. Arty only wanted to listen.
Ollie’s green eyes fixed on me as his elbows rested over his knees. I hadn’t spoken to him, or any of them, since the Bria incident. Trying to meet his gaze, I wondered if the brokenness remained in his eyes. Ollie had to have known what had happened to him. Even in my worst drunken spells, I always remembered.
Though, I couldn’t remember what had made me this way.
Life is ironic like that.
Ollie blinked his eyes away from me. He did remember, but he wanted me to forget.
“I tried killing myself”—a small laugh pressed through mid-sentence—”a couple of times now. Not because I hate myself or my life, but because I can’t hate. In fact, I don’t feel anything at all.” Ollie shifted in his seat before bringing his fingers under his chin, so I continued, “I thought maybe, just maybe, at the very last minute, I could flip a switch on a mental breaker, and care enough to stop myself … but that never happened. My father found me, both times, and if it weren’t for him coming home early, I wouldn’t be here.”
My focus stayed on Ollie as I let out the truth. “I’m incapable of feeling or showing emotion—completely detached. Dr. Conway listed several disorders I can’t recall at the moment, but all in all, I might as well be dead. I’m incurable and a lost cause.”
The room became quiet. If you listened closely, you could hear the distinct sound of a tab breaking open on a Coca-Cola can in Texas. And if you closed your eyes, you could hear the small sigh of relief after the first sip. That’s how quiet it was.
“Thank you, Mia,” Arty said, bringing me back into the room without a drink.
“She can’t be serious.” Ollie laughed in disbelief as he snapped his head in Arty’s direction. “And you’re buying that tosh, yeah?”
“Safe environment, Oliver,” Arty insisted with an eye-nudge. “Mia here”—he gestured toward me—”is disassociated from her emotions, and if she can’t break through her roadblocks, there may come a time when it’s too late.”
Ollie turned his head back to me. His eyes squinted as if they were trying to see past the lies, stripping me down to my truth. But the truth was already right in front of him; he just couldn’t accept it. His knee bounced under his elbow as I stayed calm, though I couldn’t understand why he was so physically affected.
Bria let out a laugh. “So, let me get this straight. She’s here because she doesn’t care about other people? Doesn’t sound like that was the case the other night …”
Thanks for pointing that out, Bria.
Defending actions with words could only get one so far because mouths weren’t created to be used as weapons, and not all battles were meant to be fought. But I also wasn’t going to allow her words to plant ideas in other people’s heads—in Ollie’s head.
Leaning back into my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned the tables around. “Enough about me, Arty. Why don’t I learn more about the group? Let’s start with Bria.”
Bria crossed her legs and arms simultaneously, mimicking my actions, drawing her sword, preparing for battle. After Arty’s nod of approval, her annoying voice echoed in the dark room. “What do you want to know?”
“Hold on, let me guess.” I brought two fingers to my chin. “Fights in school, petty theft crimes, a bad crowd had you under their influence … You’re a people pleaser. You just don’t know how to say no, or take no for an answer.”
“Yeah!” Jake blurted and clapped his hands together. Arty held up a palm to calm the room buzzing from my comment. “I told you she had some talents,” Jake whispered to Ollie, shoving him in the arm.
“You don’t know shit!” Bria stood, her pale and delicate features flushed as she pointed a finger at me. I sat with a smirk as her appearance transformed before my eyes.
“Alright, let’s settle down,” Arty said as he raised both hands in the air, his soothing baritone voice louder than the chatter amongst the group. Bria eventually listened before Arty continued, “Isaac, you’ve been quiet. Why don’t you clue us in on what just happened?”
Bria blew out a puff from her cheeks, and I raised a brow as I waited for Isaac to answer. Isaac sat beside Arty; his eyes darted to Ollie, then back at me. “It’s a way for Mia to manipulate her surroundings. From the looks of it, she has sociopath tendencies. She gets off on this shit.” Tell me something I don’t already know.
Seconds and a couple of gasps passed and Arty glanced over to me. “You see right there”—Arty shot his palm in my direction—”nothing. Bria would have left with such a remark, but because Mia is so disconnected, nothing can break her.”
Because I was already broken.
“Can Mia be affectionate?” Ollie asked, catching everyone, including myself, off guard.
Arty peered over to me, expecting me to answer the question for him.
“Only under the influence,” I said. “But even so, it will never be real. I was only motivated by lust and a high. Once the side effects wear off, I’ll be back to this: incapable of loving or maintaining any form of personal attachment.” I pointed to myself and mouthed, “Lost cause,” as Ollie squinted.
“All of it meant nothing,” I added, and the moment the words left me, a slow burning ache stirred in my chest. Quickly, I swallowed the bitterness lingering over my tongue and swiped my sweaty palm down the side of my jeans.
The air around me weighed heavy, stifling, and Ollie leaned over. He rested
his elbows over his knee as he dropped his hands from his chin. “I don’t believe you,” he said to me from across the circle, his tone low and direct.
I managed to shrug a shoulder despite the sudden turmoil stirring inside me while he moved his head slightly from side to side.
“So, Mia is a sociopath?” Jake asked, breaking up the tension.
I scanned the circle, and everyone was either staring at me, staring at Ollie, or looking to Arty, hanging on his silence.
“She checks every box associated with the term, but do I think she is one?” Arty’s eyes met mine, and I waited for his answer like everyone else. “No, I don’t. She hasn’t always been this way.”
And I couldn’t remember being any other way. He had no right to say those things. Saying I haven’t always been this way allowed me believe there was a small inkling of hope hiding somewhere, and hope was disappointing. Hope was a thin string hanging over my head as I fell into the darkness. I couldn’t see it and I couldn’t feel it, so pretending it wasn’t there was for the best.
He had no right for me to hear it.
Ignoring hope, I dropped my chin and kept my eyes on the marble tile while everyone went around the room talking about their progress and setbacks.
I’d learned that Isaac was dependent on pain killers, and had a past of doing whatever was necessary to fill that addiction. Alicia had been in and out of foster care most of her life, and found a family with a bad crowd, though there was a spark of hope in her eyes, and I wondered if Dolor was the reason behind it. She mentioned wanting to pursue a nursing degree after she left here.
“Ollie, how have you been since last Tuesday? Have you found something to keep your mood stable?” Arty asked. I lifted my head, and Ollie had been in the same position the entire time, leaned over with his elbows digging into his knees. His right knee bounced nervously and he applied more pressure to try to control it.
Ollie closed his hands together in front of him as he cocked his head in Arty’s direction. “Good question, Arty. Yeah, I mean, I’ve been okay since Tuesday. No outbursts.”
Stay With Me (Stay With Me Series Book 1) Page 10