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Their faces angelic-looking, with sharp jaws, and high cheekbones. Their teeth perfectly straight, and white, and their hair styled to perfection as if they just walked off the cover of a romance novel. No one should be able to look as good as the three of them do, and yet, they do.
“Nope, I don’t think so,” Shelby interjects, but Oliver rolls his eyes, ignoring her, and closing the distance between us in one single step.
“She can talk to who she wants to, you aren’t her keeper.” Oliver’s words are directed at Shelby, but he doesn’t look away from me as he says them.
“You’re trouble, Oliver, and Harlow doesn’t need trouble,” Shelby growls “go away.”
“I…. I know you…” I blink slowly, speaking more to myself than him. Inhaling slowly, the zingy scent of citrus, and rain fills my nostrils calming me almost instantly.
“Yes, you know me,” he smirks. His smile makes me want to smile, and I don’t really understand why. “Why are you here? You hate parties.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Oliver, and don’t tell Harlow what she likes and doesn’t like,” Shelby snaps at him like a momma bear protecting her young. “Come on, Harlow, let’s go outside,” she grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the back door before I can even protest. A dark look crosses Oliver’s face, but he doesn’t make an effort to stop her. Not even a second later, I’m walking into the cool night air, a shiver rippling down my spine.
“Ugh, those Bishop boys are so annoying.” Shelby rolls her eyes. “Stay here, and I’ll go inside and make you a drink, and seriously, stay away from them, they’re nothing but trouble, plus you’re supposed to hate them.”
“Supposed to hate them?” I ask, but Shelby doesn’t answer me, and instead, walks back the way we just came. I stand there for a minute or two by myself, and when she returns with two red cups in her hands, I smile.
“Here, drink this, let loose, and let’s enjoy the night.” I take the cup from her hand and take a big sip, letting the fruity liquid soothe my nerves.
“Mhh, that’s really good,” I admit.
“Of course it is, it’s your favorite,” Shelby winks, and I take another drink, gulping half the liquid down without thought.
We talk for a bit, laugh, and dance, and before I know it, my cup is empty, and I’m feeling a whole lot better. As if the alcohol gave my mind a break from trying to remember something and make sense of everything, I feel a bit calmer, more at ease, and suddenly, I want another drink.
“What is this? I want some more,” I tell Shelby.
“I’ll get you some, stay here, girlfriend,” she laughs, clearly a little tipsy herself. I watch her walk back into the house before looking around the back yard. There are a ton of people outside, most of them playing drinking games. A few couples are dancing on the grass, the atmosphere out here seems more chilled than inside.
Scanning the crowd, I hope to spot Oliver again, but no matter how much I look, I don’t see him anywhere, it’s almost like he disappeared.
“Harlow?” An unfamiliar voice calls startling me, and I twist around faster than necessary, coming face to face with some guy that I don’t know. He’s holding a red cup in his hand, which he extends out to me, “Shelby asked me to give this to you. She said she’ll be right back.”
“Oh, okay…” I take the cup from his hand and watch him turn and walk the other way. Weird. Not dwelling on it, I take a sip from my new drink and look around for Shelby.
Where the hell is she?
I take a few steps toward the door that leads back into the house when someone steps in front of me, cutting me off and causing me to stop or run head-on into them.
“Hey, Sexy, glad to see you back on your feet again,” the guy that cut me off says. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t tell why. I think he was sitting at the table inside earlier. Maybe I even knew him from before, either way, I already don’t like him. Not only because of how he called me Sexy. No, there is something else about him that I don’t like. Something that leaves me feeling sick.
“Thanks,” is all I say as I push past him, trying to get inside.
His hand snakes out at the last minute, and he wraps his fingers around one of my wrists tugging me back toward him. “Not so fast, I wasn’t done talking yet,” he slurs.
Now that he’s close, I can smell the alcohol on him, it pours from his mouth, causing my nose to wrinkle with distaste. He smells like a damn distillery. “My friends and I want you to come back to our place. There are three of us, three fat cocks, just the way you like it,” he snickers, peering over his shoulder, at what I would assume are his friends.
