four of his buddies throwing a football around in the street in front of their frat house. Crap!
We were across the street and a couple houses down from the frat house when they saw us and started walking, more like staggering, toward us.
“Hey, guys. Have a good time?” Ashton taunted, his gaze fixing on me and Oliver. It was obvious he was far from sober.
Carter spoke. “That’s enough, Ashton.” We kept going. We were across the street from the frat house now.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” Ashton hollered, throwing the football in our direction. It missed us, but it pissed me off.
I spun around, but before I could yell, Oliver grabbed my hand. I looked up at him and he shook his head at me. “It’s not worth it, Laney.” I calmed a little at his words and we began walking again. I wanted to hit Ashton. I wanted to slap him hard across the face, or, better yet, I wanted to slap him across the face with my flip-flop.
Ashton didn’t like being ignored. “Hey, I asked you a question!”
“Leave it alone, Ashton,” Carter said, as Kiera slid off his back.
“Hey, Laney. Did you tell your boyfriend about us?” He laughed and my blood boiled. There was never any “us!” I got a mental image of punching him and then me running like hell. I figured he’d hit me back.
“Just keep going. Ignore him,” Oliver said quietly.
“She finally giving it up to someone? It’s about time!” he chuckled and taunted some more. “I about had a piece of that, but she couldn’t handle me.” He and his buddies laughed.
“Go to hell!” I screamed, as I spun around. I was pissed and, apparently, so was Oliver. He turned around and something like a growl rumbled deep in his chest. My eyes widened as he looked me straight in the eyes and told me to stay there. He turned and started for Ashton and Ashton for him.
I was terrified. Zoey was right beside me and she grabbed my hand for comfort.
“Laney, your hands are cold,” Zoey said.
“She’s always cold,” Kiera said, hobbling over to us as Carter followed Oliver—obviously as back-up.
“Seriously? My body temperature isn’t really a concern right now,” I said, gesturing toward Oliver and Ashton.
“Apologize to her. Now,” Oliver boomed, storming over to Ashton. “You do not talk about her like that!” Oliver’s voice came out in a ferocious rage. I felt goose bumps cover my body and Zoey squeezed my hand more tightly.
Ashton rushed (staggered) up, took a swing at Oliver, and missed.
“Drunk bastard,” Zoey murmured.
Ashton swung again and this time Oliver caught Ashton’s fist in his hand with no effort. Our mouths gaped; we were stunned. In one swift movement, he twisted Ashton’s arm behind him and took him to the ground, face first, putting his knee on Ashton’s back. Ashton’s friends rushed forward, but another rumble came out of Oliver and they all took several steps back. Even Carter took a step back.
“Say you’re sorry or I will make you sorry,” Oliver sounded furious. I shuddered at his tone, my eyes still wide. Ashton struggled, but it did him no good.
Zoey started to tug on my hand. I turned my attention to her. She looked unsteady. “Zoey, are you okay?” I asked.
“I feel weird. Something doesn’t feel right.” I helped her to sit on the ground and crouched beside her, trying to adjust myself just right so as not to show my underpants. Maybe none of our daiquiris had been virgins.
“Just breathe,” I told her. “Remember to breathe.”
She took several steady breaths and I returned my attention back to the middle of the street where Oliver still had Ashton pinned to the ground. He was close to his face and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Ashton looked enraged and terrified at the same time. Ashton muttered something I couldn’t understand and Oliver swiftly stood, pulling Ashton to his feet as he did so with what seemed like no effort; then he let go of his arm.
Ashton
We were across the street and a couple houses down from the frat house when they saw us and started walking, more like staggering, toward us.
“Hey, guys. Have a good time?” Ashton taunted, his gaze fixing on me and Oliver. It was obvious he was far from sober.
Carter spoke. “That’s enough, Ashton.” We kept going. We were across the street from the frat house now.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” Ashton hollered, throwing the football in our direction. It missed us, but it pissed me off.
I spun around, but before I could yell, Oliver grabbed my hand. I looked up at him and he shook his head at me. “It’s not worth it, Laney.” I calmed a little at his words and we began walking again. I wanted to hit Ashton. I wanted to slap him hard across the face, or, better yet, I wanted to slap him across the face with my flip-flop.
Ashton didn’t like being ignored. “Hey, I asked you a question!”
“Leave it alone, Ashton,” Carter said, as Kiera slid off his back.
“Hey, Laney. Did you tell your boyfriend about us?” He laughed and my blood boiled. There was never any “us!” I got a mental image of punching him and then me running like hell. I figured he’d hit me back.
“Just keep going. Ignore him,” Oliver said quietly.
“She finally giving it up to someone? It’s about time!” he chuckled and taunted some more. “I about had a piece of that, but she couldn’t handle me.” He and his buddies laughed.
“Go to hell!” I screamed, as I spun around. I was pissed and, apparently, so was Oliver. He turned around and something like a growl rumbled deep in his chest. My eyes widened as he looked me straight in the eyes and told me to stay there. He turned and started for Ashton and Ashton for him.
I was terrified. Zoey was right beside me and she grabbed my hand for comfort.
“Laney, your hands are cold,” Zoey said.
“She’s always cold,” Kiera said, hobbling over to us as Carter followed Oliver—obviously as back-up.
“Seriously? My body temperature isn’t really a concern right now,” I said, gesturing toward Oliver and Ashton.
“Apologize to her. Now,” Oliver boomed, storming over to Ashton. “You do not talk about her like that!” Oliver’s voice came out in a ferocious rage. I felt goose bumps cover my body and Zoey squeezed my hand more tightly.
Ashton rushed (staggered) up, took a swing at Oliver, and missed.
“Drunk bastard,” Zoey murmured.
Ashton swung again and this time Oliver caught Ashton’s fist in his hand with no effort. Our mouths gaped; we were stunned. In one swift movement, he twisted Ashton’s arm behind him and took him to the ground, face first, putting his knee on Ashton’s back. Ashton’s friends rushed forward, but another rumble came out of Oliver and they all took several steps back. Even Carter took a step back.
“Say you’re sorry or I will make you sorry,” Oliver sounded furious. I shuddered at his tone, my eyes still wide. Ashton struggled, but it did him no good.
Zoey started to tug on my hand. I turned my attention to her. She looked unsteady. “Zoey, are you okay?” I asked.
“I feel weird. Something doesn’t feel right.” I helped her to sit on the ground and crouched beside her, trying to adjust myself just right so as not to show my underpants. Maybe none of our daiquiris had been virgins.
“Just breathe,” I told her. “Remember to breathe.”
She took several steady breaths and I returned my attention back to the middle of the street where Oliver still had Ashton pinned to the ground. He was close to his face and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Ashton looked enraged and terrified at the same time. Ashton muttered something I couldn’t understand and Oliver swiftly stood, pulling Ashton to his feet as he did so with what seemed like no effort; then he let go of his arm.
Ashton
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