‘I should’ve known you’d understand.’ He brushes the backs of his fingers against my cheek. ‘Thank you, Mia.’
This is not part of my plan. By now we’re supposed to be making out backstage, maybe dancing in a way that would put my mother into an early grave. Digging Oliver out of a shitty mood because his bandmates messed up isn’t exactly how I wanted our evening to begin, and if they’re still at the bar when I get there,I’m going to … well, I’m probably going to do nothing but I’m sure going to think long and hard about kicking their collective ass.
The bar isn’t so busy; most people already moved onto the dance floor and it only takes a couple of minutes to grab the whiskey for Oliver … Oliver who is nowhere to be seen. His guitar case hasn’t moved so I know he didn’t leave but I can’t see him anywhere. At least not until a bunch of people filter off the dance floor, leaving a quickly consumed vacuum. Brief but just long enough.
There he is.
Dancing with a pair of super-hot girls wearing nothing but IKEA bags.
Only, dancing isn’t really the word for it. Oliver is the meat in a blue bag sandwich and I honestly feel like I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t as they all grind on one another. What the hell? I was only gone for two minutes.
‘Mia!’
I can’t quite believe it when he sees me watching them and raises a hand. ‘Come and meet my friends.’
Friends? Is he for real? People do not get this up close and personal with friends. Except a quick flash of Ethan’s closed eyes on my birthday douses me with an ice bucket of cold guilt and I find myself pushing my way through the bodies towards Oliver, the bass beating loud in time with my heart.
‘I got your drink.’ I hold out the plastic cup full of brown liquid and see the sloppy smile on his face.
‘Dance with us,’ he says, grabbing my wrist before I can pull it away. ‘Loosen up.’
I wish I could because I’ve never felt so tightly wound in all my life.
‘Yeah.’ One of the other girls, a gorgeous blonde with hair hanging all the way down to her ass, snakes a hand around my neck and strokes my shoulder. ‘You should dance with us.’
The hand on my shoulder pulls me into the fray. I’m face to face with Oliver as he looks at me with the kind of heavy-lidded desire I’ve been waiting for. Only … he isn’t looking at me. I turn to see the subject of his gaze and almost bump noses with a brunette. These girls are gorgeous, impossibly sexy – all long limbs and flowing hair – and they know it. They exude sexuality, there’s no pent-up frustration or awkward attempts, it’s right there, front and centre, for everyone to see. I can’t compete.
Licking his lips, Oliver leans forward and just as I think he’s going to kiss me, the brunette slides between us and meets his lips first. Before I can protest, the blonde is in front of me and her mouth is on mine. My lips part and her tongue, tentative and tender, slips into my mouth. She’s pulling me in, her soft body moving against mine when I snap to my senses and push her away. This is not what I want. She is not who I want.
‘Hey, can we talk?’ I feel so foolish, tapping on Oliver’s shoulder like the silly little girl I am.
‘We’re talking,’ he replies, releasing the girl in the blue bag and wrapping his arms around my waist. ‘What’s the matter?’
The other girls aren’t going anywhere.
‘Mia, is it?’ the blonde asks. ‘Come on, don’t be a bore. This is supposed to be a party.’
I want Oliver to laugh and put his arm around my shoulders and take me away. I want to leave the party and walk together in the moonlight. I want to know I’m the one he wants. But he doesn’tdo any of those things. He releases me and allows the blue bag girls to pull him away, the three of them melting into the mass of dancing bodies.
‘Mia, you all right?’
It’s Jenna, with Michael at her elbow. They both look past me to the dance floor, eyes on Oliver, then Jenna slants her head at Michael. He gives the briefest of nods and heads off in the opposite direction.
‘Oh, Mia.’ She yanks up her Saran wrap and draws me into a hug. ‘Fuck him.’
‘That’s the problem,’ I say, too stunned to even cry. ‘I was planning to.’
‘Then I’m glad he showed you what a cock he is before you did.’ She sets her hands on my shoulders and gives me a stern look. ‘You don’t need a wanker like that messing with your head. They’re dick-led, every single one of them.’
‘But why can’t his dick lead him to me?’ I say with a whine and the disappointed feminist inside me hangs her head in shame. ‘It’s me, I know it is. Guys don’t see me that way, never have. But I thought, with Oliver, I thought it was different—’
‘Take that back immediately,’ Jenna orders. ‘You’re gorgeous and he’s an imbecile and I don’t want to say I told you so but—’
‘Then don’t! Then fucking don’t!’
I don’t mean to raise my voice, but I do. I don’t want to hear it. Even if she’s right. Especially if she’s right.
‘Okay, calm down,’ she mutters. ‘I’m only trying to help.’
