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THIRTY-THREE
OAKLEY
Iget off the phone with Tyler and immediately set out to find Andre. After what feels like hours, I see him in the kitchen. He's leaning against a wall, his eyes fixed on a girl's chest. I storm over to him and grab the collar of his shirt, dragging him away from the girl and out onto the patio with little effort.
I drop him onto the ground and he stares at me, incredulous.
"What the hell, man! I was about to get laid," he huffs and hastily picks himself up—what a dick.
"So you go around posting pictures of me avoiding random girls now? Is that a thing you do now? Or did I miss the memo?" I growl.
Andre looks taken aback at my sudden outburst and takes a cautious step back from me.
"Yo, Lee, I didn't mean anything by it. You weren't even doing anything with them. What's the issue?"
"The issue is that my girlfriend has no idea where I am and you're posting pictures of me living it up with a bunch of fucking puck bunnies!" I yell at him, not caring who hears us. He knew what he was doing. I know that much. Andre always gets like this when he's drinking. I have to remember that.
He snorts, smirking at me now. "That sounds like a great opportunity to me. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"Do you not realize how much of an asshole you're being right now?" I snap at him.
"You've never seemed to have an issue with it until now. Ava must have one tight pussy," he scoffs.
The breath leaves my lungs, my vision turning red.
"I'm going to give you one chance to take that back and apologize. Otherwise, I'm going to shatter your jaw. You're drunk, Andre. Go upstairs to bed."
He throws his head back and laughs. He takes another step towards me, closing the gap between us.
"Ava must have one tight pussy—"
A sharp pain shoots up my arm when my fist connects with his jaw. He stumbles slightly, looking more shocked than hurt. He narrows his eyes at me and spits blood at my shoes.
"Go back inside and go to bed," I plead. I don't want to fight him but I won't hesitate to wipe the smug grin off his face if he speaks her name again.
His fist connects with my eye before I even know what's happening. I reel back and smack the back of my head against the brick wall. Pain travels down my body. My vision blurs, and my ears ring. It takes me a few moments to recover as I blink past the blood dripping steadily down my face and look around.
Andre's gone.
"Fuck!" I shout into the empty backyard. I place my fingers tenderly on the lump forming on the back of my head, swaying slightly as I stand up straight and head back into the house. The heat hits me like a wave as soon as I get inside. I make a beeline for the bathroom.
I lock the door behind me and lean on the counter to stare at the large bruise forming around my eye. At least Andre was drunk. If he were sober my eye would be swollen shut by now. He's got an even better arm than I do.
When I'm done cleaning myself off, I hurry out of the bathroom to make it out to my truck. Once again, I'm stopped by an old friend of mine.
"You're not leaving already, are you? I've missed you," Layla purrs in my ear. She grabs my bicep with her bony fingers, letting the long pointed nails dig into my skin. I shake my arm out of her grasp and pull away, trying to put some distance between us.
"I'm tired, and fed up, Layla. Leave me alone."
"Just one drink, Lee-Lee? Then I'll leave you alone," she begs, inching closer to me.
"Don't call me that," I snap.
She rolls her eyes and bats her lashes at me. "Please, Oakley?" She holds out her cup and smiles warmly.
With a groan, I grab it and down it to get her to leave me alone.
"Now I'm leaving," I say firmly.
