Chapter 27 Olivia #3
"I fucking hope so. I've known him since freshman year," he says, shaking his head.
"We may not run in the same crowds, but the three of us have always bunked together.
Cool guys." He plucks his phone out of his pocket and frowns.
"Wade says he hasn't seen him either but will be here later tonight.
He says he hasn't seen him since last night when he ran into him at the store.
He says you were there, too." His eyes dart to me, but there's no suspicion in them.
"Tampons," I grumble, taking a large drink as my cheeks heat.
"Oh, OH!" Simon said in surprise, tucking his phone away. "So, you saw him last night?"
"He was getting the same thing for his girlfriend and some ice cream. But I saw him walk out of the store before I…” I trail off, remembering I stepped into the bathroom before walking out of the store.
Anything could have happened between then and when I left.
Giving whoever plenty of time to kidnap Dane and…
do what with him? I’m not sure. “And that's the last I saw of him. "
"So weird," Simon mumbles, crinkling his nose.
"Let's keep our eyes out for him." He nods with determination.
"But in the meantime, we've got a party to try and enjoy.
" He rubs at his chest like it's an impossible feat for him, but he plasters on his smile, and we mingle throughout the party, where he introduces me to more people as Oliver.
"This is Victoria and Blane," Simon says, gesturing to two people resting beneath a tree with drinks in their hands.
"Hi," I say, offering a small wave. "Nice to meet you."
Victoria grins in response. "You're new here, aren't you? Simon's roommate, the one he won't shut up about," she chuckles into her glass bottle.
"Shut it," Simon quips, slightly pushing her shoulder. "This is my sister," Simon says, gesturing to her.
"His twin, to be more exact. But I'm older and wiser," Victoria smiles. "This is my husband, Blane."
"Husband?" I ask, furrowing my brows without meaning to.
She laughs at my stunned expression. "I know. My parents begged me to wait, but I wouldn't let them set me up with someone. So, I married the first guy I could get my grubby hands on."
Blane rolls his eyes. A smirk playing on his lips. "Grubby is right, but I chased you for at least two years." He softly kisses her head, and Simon playfully gags.
"You're going to ruin the party with that." He gestures to their PDA.
Sometimes, I think arranged marriages are way more common than people like to believe.
Well, in certain societies, that is. In the mafia and mob world, arranged marriages are more than a way of life.
It's how they breed alliances and stay in each other's good favor.
Even if they hate one another, they have to play nice if their kids are married and their businesses depend on it.
"Oh, look," Victoria whispers, tilting her beer bottle. "Their dog has arrived."
"Their dog?" I question dumbly. My heart beats in my throat when Waffles, whom I have successfully avoided for this long, strolls into the party. I swallow hard, trying to attempt like I know nothing about him.
Waffles? Waffles who? I don’t know him.
"He shows up for every party. Honestly, I think he follows them around campus." She shakes her head. “It’s adorable.”
"It's their guard dog," Blane smirks. "It's always around."
"But, God. Don't touch him..." Simon trails off, wrinkling his nose.
"Yeah, I think he bit a guy last year and took his fingers off,” Blane adds dramatically.
That doesn’t seem like Waffles at all. He’s a watchdog, for sure.
Always on the lookout for me and the guys.
He’d fight off any bad guy if they got too close.
Not that many did. I don’t doubt that Waffles sticks up for the guys, but imagining him biting off someone’s finger has my stomach twisting into knots.
Not my Waffles.
"Vicious dog," Victoria chuckles, gulping down the rest of her beer. "And to think, his name is fucking Waffles."
They continue their conversation. Not noticing when I don't join in. I can't. Not with my tongue tied into knots as memories assault me. Again. It's been a never-ending cycle since I stepped foot back in Greenwood. I swallow a gulp of my half-finished drink I’ve been babying.
I'm unable to take my eyes off Waffles. His golden coat hasn't changed.
Looking shiny and freshly washed in the bright moonlight.
I wonder if JJ still gives him weekly baths to ward off his allergy to dogs.
Or if Mack still insists on taking him for walks every morning.
Only the two of them. Or Huxley. Does he still measure out Waffle's food, meticulously making sure he doesn't overfeed him, convinced he’d make him obese and hurt his joints?
I don't know anymore. To me, Waffles was an essential companion to us all.
He roamed the woods, going to and from each of our houses.
Almost always showing up when I needed him most. He crawled through my window and lay in bed with me as my parents argued a room away, letting me snuggle into his fur like a pillow to comfort me.
"Waffles," her husband says with a snort. "He hates everyone. He doesn't let anyone ever touch him. Only those three." And me. Or, at least, he used to. If there’s one innocent in all this, it’s Waffles.
"Their guard dog?" I ask without thinking.
No matter what, I want to run to him and throw my arms around his neck.
The memories associated with him were always happy ones.
Some days it was just him and me, wandering through the woods and getting into trouble.
All to avoid home. Waffles was my safe space beyond the guys.
And now, my only good memory of Greenwood.
Everything else is associated with them, tied to them in ways my mind still can’t comprehend, despite the truth.
My connection to JJ, Hux, and Mack is complicated. Like a knot in a string, stuck tightly together. There's no way to unwind what was done or what our memories hold.
"That dog follows them to every party. I think he's like extra security or something," Simon snorts, gulping down the rest of his beer. "I'd love to pet him but..."
"God, don't do that, Si. You'll lose your fingers," Victoria scoffs. "Besides, he never gets close to anyone but them." She nods her head toward the three supposed kings of campus.
There they are standing beneath a large tree, a few feet from my grave.
My stomach knots when Mack looks longingly at my marker and frowns more, returning to discussing something with JJ and Hux.
If only I could read their lips from here, I can't. Maybe my glasses will catch it, but I doubt it.
It's a hazy night. The moon shines brightly down on us, but no stars rest in the night sky.
Clouds hang in the distance. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say it's going to storm within the next few hours.
"Parties over," Victoria murmurs sarcastically. "Amanda and the bitch squad just showed up." She groans, gesturing to Amanda.
"Oh, fun. Here comes the dramaaaaa," Simon snorts, joining the Amanda hate club. Well, count me in. I've been in the Amanda hate club for longer than anyone here combined.
"I can't believe he's going to marry her," Victoria says, pouting when she gets to the bottom of her beer.
“Marry her?” Blane asks obliviously. “When did this happen?”
Right. She’s got that massive diamond ring sitting pretty on her finger. I shake my head in disgust, my heart wanting to tear in two at the thoughts of them kissing in front of a preacher as they happily walk hand-in-hand as man and wife.
That was mine at one point. My life.
I suck in a breath, rubbing my left ring finger.
Simon clears his throat. "Unfortunately. Happened not too long ago, from what I heard.”
"Yeah, well I heard it's a bullshit marriage," Victoria says, rolling her eyes. "Some business arrangement. You know how those mafia types are.” She scoffs at that.
Something that feels like relief slams into my gut.
Why? I haven't a damn clue. No part of me should feel anything for them anymore.
They betrayed me. Murdered me, for fuck's sake!
So, why is my skin crawling at the sight of Hux peering down at Amanda?
Do the others join in, too? Like they did with me?
Hux flexes his muscles, and irritation passes over his face when Amanda and her posse come in for the kill.
I swallow hard when Amanda wraps her arms around Hux and hugs him tightly.
Something in my chest cracks. She's living my fucking life.
The one I was supposed to live before I died.
Those were my friends. My companions. Fuck, my lovers.
Not anymore, though. I know that. But it's still an odd sensation to me.
I loved them. Now, I hate them. But I can't hate them so much that I let it cloud my investigation.
This is who I am now. Apparently, who I was supposed to be all along.
Comfort should wrap me in a warm blanket at night, knowing I escaped the fate I dreaded from childhood.
I should feel something like relief. I guess I did for a little while.
I had to look on the bright side when I lay in the hospital, miserable after the fire had torn through my skin, and I was left to rot.
My fingers curl into fists as I continue to watch the two canoodle against the tree.
Amanda looks like she's victoriously won.
A smile tilting up her lips. The way her hair hangs over her shoulders as she lifts her chin.
Huxley, on the other hand? He looks downright miserable.
He's not touching her the way she's touching him.
But he can't seem to shake her off. Not that he's trying very hard to stop her hands from roaming over his bare, tattooed chest. He takes it.
Every touch. Every caress. Every fucking thing she does to him.
He hates her.