5. Gorgeous Green Eyes
5
GORGEOUS GREEN EYES
MALLORY/OLIVER
MALLORY
I have this part of me that’s fused into my personality, more than I want it to. More than I wish for it too, and I try my hardest not to show it to people, especially Ollie, but it’s there. My anxiety. My tendency to overthink every single thing I think about, every single word that I say or is said to me. It means that I tend to question everything's validity. However, there are three things in my life I am so sure of, and would never question my knowledge of.
1. My brother will win his first Stanley cup in the next few years, and I will, like I did my dads, secretly drink a beverage from it with the excuse that there were no clean cups.
2. I will become a full–time illustrator when I graduate, despite getting a degree in Classical Studies – I like it and I’m too lazy to change my major, sue me.
3. I know every shade of Oliver Ashby’s eyes .
On an average day, they’re soft, like a sap green. But they also turn emerald in the sun, and a darker shade when he’s tired. I’ve never seen him first thing in the morning, so I have no idea what colour they are, but I am dying to find out. I am also dying to find out what shade they turn when he’s… you know.
Am I a tad obsessed with my best friend and his gorgeous green eyes?
Maybe.
Will I ever tell him?
Nope.
I think since I’m never going to tell him how I feel, the compromise is me getting to stare at him when he’s not looking. Seriously, If I had to spend the rest of my life looking at something, I’d choose his eyes. Those gorgeous green eyes. I’d pick them every time, without question.
Or his ass. The man has an amazing ass.
“Are you thinking about his stupid eyes again?” Abi asks, pulling me from my daydream.
“No.” I lie, grabbing the eyelash curler from my makeup bag. “But maybe going to this party tonight is a mistake.”
Courtney, Jules and Abi all immediately whip their heads in my direction.
“Girl, you did not just say that!” Jules all but screams as she curls another strand of her strawberry blonde hair.
“We’re going for Marcus, to help him stay away from Clem tonight, remember?”
Clementine Beauford. Her older brother is Damon Beauford, our school’s quarterback, and Marcus’ best friend. Damon is very clear about his rules where his baby sister is concerned: If you’re a man and possess a penis, don’t go near her. Seriously, I’m not talking about just Covington, a lot of schools in the surrounding state know about the Beaufords and how protective Damon is over his sister. But that didn’t stop Marcus from falling for her.
When we were all freshmen, Clem had a pretty public screaming match with a junior who tried to put his hand up her skirt, and luckily, and by such coincidence, Marcus was there to sort the guy out. He and Damon hadn’t even met before, this was before either of them joined the football team. I promised Marcus that tonight I would be his ‘anti–wingwoman’ . I’m supposed to keep him from getting drunk and confessing his feelings to Clem, and he’s supposed to stop me from doing the same with Ollie.
Abi however, is just there to get drunk. Juliana is there to drink and shamelessly flirt with the boy she pretends she’s not in love with, and Courtney’s just going because Shawn probably promised some scandalous bathroom sex.
I don’t drink a whole lot in Ollie’s presence, not because I don't drink, but because I just don’t trust myself around him when I'm drunk – who knows what I'd tell him without the fear of the unknown. It has been so hard trying to avoid being drunk for the last three years.
I swear, if I didn’t have an overwhelming amount of anxiety, I'd be such a different person. A better person. Someone fun.
“You’re going to this party, Mal. You’ve only got this year with us, with him, do you really want to waste it hiding in here because you’re scared?” Jules says.
“I would if you’d let me.” I mumble, ransacking my makeup bag for my go–to glitter eyeliner.
“Mallory.” They all screech.
“I know, I know. I need to tell him. But considering I only found out today, I think I'm allowed some time to digest it.”
“Have you told Gus yet?” I shake my head. “But you’re not worried about his reaction? ”
That’s because I don't care about Gus like I do Ollie.
Abi puts her mascara back in her bag and spins towards me, taking the eyeliner from me. It may be my favourite, but that doesn’t mean I know how to use it properly. She takes out the applicator, and I sit with my knees up, letting her sweep it across my lid.
“I don’t approve of you lying to Ashby–” Courtney starts.
My eyes fly open. “I’m not lying!”
“Eyes closed!” Abi says.
“You are lying, and when he finds out you told basically everyone else except him, he’s going to explode. He’s your best friend, Mal.”
“You guys are my best friends.”
“So is he,” Abi replies. “He sees you more than I do, and I live with you, babe. He’s your best friend and you haven’t told him you’re moving across the country.”
“ I will. ”
Abi stands up, gathering her things and stands at the edge of my bedroom door.
“Oh yeah, when?” She says, before leaving.
Never, I hope.
Abi sighs for around the fifth time since we’ve stood out here, but to be fair, we’ve been standing outside Marcus’ house in the freezing cold for about twenty minutes now. Juliana and Courtney went inside as soon as we got out of the car, but Abi refused to leave my side. I’m blaming the cold weather for freezing my boots to the ground. No other reason.
I feel her eyes on me, like she’s trying to nudge me forward without actually touching me. But it doesn’t work, and when the sixth breeze blows through us in the last five minutes I think she’s given up. On life, on standing here, on me – I have no idea. All of the above, probably.
“Fuck this,” I hear her mutter. “Good luck freezing to death, I'm getting a drink.”
Abi stomps off, trying not to let her heels sink into the grass of the front lawn. And then there were one.
“You know the party is inside the house, right?” A husky voice asks from behind me. I know who it is. But even if I didn’t, I can’t turn around. I really am so fucking cold. Marcus moves closer to me, wrapping his letterman jacket around my shoulders as he comes up beside me. “Can you hurry up and tell me what’s wrong with you before my dick freezes off?” He says, folding his arms across his chest, forcing some poor freshman girl to faint on the lawn.
Marcus is a linebacker for the football team, and let’s just say, he looks like one. Muscles upon muscles upon muscles. It’s too bad I've never been attracted to him.
"Why did you give me your jacket if you’re cold?”
"Because my mom raised a gentleman, now tell me why you won't go inside. Is it Ashby? Or Russo? Did Gus do something?"
Marcus and I have a great friendship, one that consists of us bitching to each other about our dating lives. I like talking about it with Marcus because I feel like I can without feeling like I'm whining to him. He understands my predicament. Mostly because he's also in love with someone he can't have – his teammate's sister. He's in love with someone he can never have, and I'm in love with someone I'm too scared to have.
See, same boat.
"My dad got a new job. We're moving in June." Marcus doesn’t verbally respond, and I may be looking forward, but I know his jaw is somewhere on the floor.
“Yep.”
“Mallory—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are tell and him I'm going straight home, I swear to god. I’ll do it, I'll leave your ass here to deal with Clem alone.”
And as if the world wasn’t cruel enough, especially to good people, a taxi pulls up behind us, and the girl stepping out of it, looking like a supermodel, is Clementine. She’s wearing a very short, very sexy red dress, which is probably killing Marcus right now. I turn to him, not even bothering to hide my laughter. He goes to hit me, but then I see them. Coming up behind Clem and her friends are the boys. Tommy, Cory, Shawn, and Ollie. He’s wearing his hockey letterman jacket, with blue baggy jeans and a cap.
A backwards cap.
Oh, for fucks sake.
Marcus leans in close to me, whispering in my ear. “Are you dying inside?”
I shove him, causing him to stumble back. He rips his jacket from my shoulders.
“This is your punishment!” He shouts, walking into the house, nodding at Clem, not verbally addressing her, or her dress – even though I know he really wants to.
“What about being a gentleman?” I call back, but he just glares at me, a look that says thank you for embarrassing me in front of Clem and also good luck.
He’s still my wingman, and we both know the reason he walked away is because Ollie is with his friends, and Clem is with hers, and also because neither of us are drunk yet. So far so good. But then again, I have only been here twenty minutes .
I’m still facing the house, watching Marcus walk inside when I feel a familiar jacket wrapped around me. God fucking damn it. He lightly grabs my arms as he helps me into his jacket. I wrap it against my body, the scent of oranges and pine needles fill my nose, and it takes my entire willpower for me to not sniff it, or him. This is why I hate going out with him, his cologne is going to be the death of me. Sometimes I think he puts too much on just to piss me off
“Seriously Dolcezza mia, no jacket? Really, Mallie?”
“Playing with fire, are we Mallie–moo?” Tommy says, laughing as he walks straight into the house with the others, leaving me with Ollie alone.
Not exactly code red, I spend every day with him.
Everything is fine.
“Hey, I um, wanted to ask you earlier but I forgot. Is everything alright with you and Gus?”
Shit.
I plaster on my best smile. “Yeah, of course it is.”
He places his hand on my forearm, bending slightly to meet my eyeline. “You’d tell me if something happened, wouldn’t you?”
Fuck. My. Life.
If I have to lie about moving, then I have to tell him about what’s going on with Gus – I can’t lie to him about both things, then he really will go on a rampage. I just stare at him, my lips parted. His eyes are roaming all over my face, and goddamn, his eyes are extra sparkly and swoon–worthy tonight.
“You know you can trust me, Marshmallory, always. You can tell me anything. Always.”
I swear on my brother’s life, his eyes just fucking sparkled like an anime character. I swear on it .
“Gus and I are having sex.” I blurt out, averting my eyes.
His features harden for a split second, then soften. “Oh.”
“Yeah. We've been in a good place recently, getting closer so I thought, why not? We’re still not dating, so my dad won’t be mad. Plus, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?”
Ollie just stares at me. His eyes roaming all over my face, like he’s trying to figure something out. Trying to figure out if I'm lying through my teeth, which I am. “You can’t sleep with him.”
“I can’t?” My brows crease. “Why not?”
His face pinches, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to say that. “I didn’t mean that, just — talk to him when we get inside. Ask him about practice.”
My brows knit even more. “What happened at practice.”
“Nothing, nothing — just talk to him today, yeah?”
I nod.
“Now let's go inside, because I'm not wearing a long sleeve and I can feel my body shutting down.” He ushers me inside and I plaster my best fake–but–pretending–it's–real–smile onto my face I mentally note to stay away from the drinks table. Maybe then I'll have a shot at surviving the night.
I’ve been staring at him from across the room for two hours. As soon as we entered the house, Jules and Court took me away, saying they needed ‘girl talk’, and I officially love them for it.
We’ve just been talking about Juliana’s latest hookup disaster, where Cory accidentally walked in on her having sex with some guy from the swim team, and apparently he hasn’t spoken directly to her since. She says it because he’s embarrassed. But Court and I have a different theory. We haven’t voiced, said theory, but we both agree.
Brother’s best friend is a trope for a reason.
Jules suddenly gets tongue tied and changes the subject to sex positions, because she knows Courtney would go on a whole debate about the sex positions she likes but Shawn doesn’t. She thinks we’ve forgotten the whole Cory theory. But I haven't – there is a time and place though. I’m tabling the topic, for now.
“I really like reverse cowgirl, but Shawn hates it,” Courtney says .
“But why?” Jules takes a sip of her drink and coughs several times before putting it on the nearest surface. “Cory really needs to learn how to mix drinks,”
Courtney smiles, finishing her story. “He says it’s because he wants to look at me when we do it, but he likes doggy so I don’t get it,”
“I kind of do,” I add. “Abi told me that she once had sex with one of Marcus’ friends and he hated it when she–”
“Mallory?” We all turn around to find Nick Masters standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I have a word?” He glares at the girls. “A private word.” Nick is a senior on the hockey team, but he’s never spoken directly to me before. “I just wanna ask you about something coach said.”
“Yeah sure, but you gotta make it quick, Gus told me to find him soon.” He looks relieved as he lets me lead him somewhere. But before we go, I take a detour to the boys. I don’t want to make anything worse, but I need to give Ollie his jacket back in case I leave it somewhere — or I boil to death — whichever one comes first.
I shrug the jacket off, trying to be quick about it because when I look at Ollie, he looks furious – no idea why though .
“Here, I'm not cold anymore, thanks.” I say, practically thrusting the jacket in his hands.
He juts his chin towards Nick. “Hanging out with the upperclassman now?”
“He said he wanted to talk about my dad. Be right back.” I offer him a warm smile as I turn around and head out of the living room, and don’t ignore the glare Ollie gives Nick once we leave.
Nick wanted to go and talk upstairs, but I told him I didn't want to. Even though we both knew we we’re just going to talk, I didn't want every single person at this party thinking we were hooking up, especially Gus. So without going upstairs, we were left with no other option but to have this conversation… in a closet. In hindsight, I think this is much worse than going upstairs. Nick closes the door behind me and suddenly the room feels so much smaller than it was. He’s one of the tallest guys on the team, his six–foot–five height towers over my mere five–foot–seven. I stare up at him, watching the little ball in his throat move up and down, waiting for him to speak first. He doesn't. Fine with me. Whether he speaks to me or not is his concern, either way, he still only has five minutes.
I look around the room, actually surprised that a bunch of football players actually own cleaning products. I lean in closer when I feel Nick's hand wrap around my chin, tilting my head up, dragging his finger from my chin to my neck.
“You look smokin’ hot today, Mallory. I mean, you always look hot, but tonight…” His gaze rakes me up and down, lingering on my tits. Every second his eyes stay glued to my chest, I feel my heart hammer, and not in a good way .
“You uh, you said you needed to talk to me about my dad?”
“It’s a shame he doesn’t let you date anyone on the team,” He moves his hand up and down my jaw, leaving shivers in its wake. “But then again, I’m leaving this year.”
“That’s what happens when seniors graduate — did you have a point to this?”
“My point is that we can fool around, and nothing will happen to me.”
He leans down further towards my neck, but I push him away.“What are you doing?”
“Come on, Mallory. I know you want to. I see the way you look at me.”
“How do I look at you?”
He leans in to whisper into the shell of my ear. “Like you want me. I think you’d take my cock like a good girl, just like you take Russo’s. ” He smooths his hands down my dress. I try to push him away again but he pins me to the wall. His cheeks are stained red, he’s panting as I fight to keep my skirt down.
“Nick, stop.” I say, but he doesn’t. So I shout louder. “Nick stop it! Get off me!” He spatters wet kisses all over my neck as he pushes my dress further up my legs. Up and up and?—
The door flies open from behind him, and standing on the other side of it is Ollie, his chest heaving. His eyes move down to my bare thighs. My panties are still covered by my dress, but he was almost there. His knuckles grazed them.
Ollie’s eyes flick to Nick’s forearm, which is covered in deep red marks. My eyes flick to his, and the green is gone, replaced by what I can only describe as black. Rage consumes him as he hauls Nick off of me, slamming his fist into his face. Ollie may be the human equivalent to a golden retriever most days, but he’s the captain for a reason, and Ollie can be fucking scary when he wants to be.
Nick collapses to the floor as Ollie straddles him, punching him over and over again. Tommy and Cory pull Ollie off of him, while Shawn and Marcus keep Nick away from Ollie. The girls rush to me, squeezing me tight as I try and pull my skirt down as far as it will go. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my heartbeat in my throat.
One breath in. One breath out. One breath in. One breath out.
“Come on,” Abi says, pushing through the crowd, leading us to the upstairs bathroom. We reach the top of the stairs and she kicks open the door with her stiletto. A drunk boy and equally drunk girl are going at it on the counter. “Find another bathroom to fuck in, this one’s occupied.”
The girl immediately jumps off the counter, pulling her skirt down as the guy clutches her hand, leading them out the bathroom. I shake out of Abi’s grip, walking into the bathroom, clutching the door until my knuckles turn white.
“I–I j–just n–need a–a m–minute.” That’s all I say before I slam the door shut. I find the lock and click it as I slide down the door, sobbing into my hand, trying my best to muffle my cries.
I hear the girls through the door, their soft voices trying to soothe me as I try to stop crying, but I can’t.
I cry, and I cry, and I cry.
OLIVER
“I’m going in there.”
I go to stand from my seat on the stairs, when a hand curls around my shoulder and pushes me back down.
“Leave them be, Cap. They’ll come out in a second.”
Shawn. Or as the team calls him; captain cockblocker, because he’s always stopping them from going up to girls. I slump back down in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Mallory did say she’d only give him five minutes,” Courtney adds, resting her head on captain cockblocker’s shoulder.
“How long has it been?”
“Sixty seconds.”
“The longest sixty seconds of my fucking life.” I mumble, essentially sulking. It’s no secret that Mallory is my best friend, you’d have to be blind to not see it, considering we hang out almost every day. I’d rather be with her than with the guys, but that’s just because I prefer her. She’s funny, and smart and always, always smells like cherries.
Ok, and I might, you know, love her.
But I'm very good at hiding it. To only her, apparently.
“Cappy, you might wanna cool it tonight, you’re starting to look like a jealous lover.” Tommy adds, while never taking his eyes off some cheerleader. Or more specifically, her ass. Cory, however, is lost in thought, staring at a certain redhead.
“I agree Ollie, you shouldn’t have given her your jacket.”
I frown at Jules’ statement. When Marcus took his jacket off her, I could see the goosebumps forming on her skin, and I wasn't even standing that close to her.
Ok, I was standing close to her, but that’s just because I like her, I always want to be close to her. She’s the person I always want to be around and stand next to. Which could also indicate a long–lasting friendship, so sue me.
“Well he doesn’t have to worry about that because he got it back, now didn’t he.” Tommy turns to face me, a shit–eating grin plastered on his face.
“Cap,” Shawn stretches his words out, like he’s tiptoeing around the point.“We love you and stuff – of course we do, you’re our captain and all. But?—”
“But you’re acting like a whiny little bitch.” Tommy finishes, looking away from the girl. “Nut up and ask her what’s going on. Or better yet, nut up and ask her out. Period. I don’t care what you do, Cap, so long as you stop fucking whinging about it.”
My frown deepens. “Jules, why did she give it back?” I’m kind of embarrassed at how insecure I sound in my voice right now, but I have every reason to be. They went into the fucking closet together. But then again it could be worse. They could’ve gone upstairs to a bedroom.
Mallory doesn’t do boyfriends, this I'm well aware of, and so is every other guy on campus. Ever since Jackass Jensen cheated on her freshman year, she made it very very clear she didn't want a relationship with anyone – that includes me. But that also didn’t stop her from wanting to … hook up with guys, Gus included.
I don’t care though, I mean, I'm no nun, so stopping her from hooking up is a dickhead move, and I would never tell her what to do.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact, it makes my fucking blood boil every time i’ve had to go to practice knowing that jackass has touched her and kissed her. But this time it’s different. She didn’t go in there with Gus, she went in there with Nick Masters. He’s a senior on the team, and a fucking douchebag. I mean it. He’s a garbage person, a waste of space for a human. I don’t care how good he is at hockey, he’s just such a fucking jackass. And a womaniser, the bad kind. He never takes no for an answer. And I know Mallory is definitely going to say no.
I curl my fingers around my hands, doing everything I can not to rip that door open .
But then I heard it. I heard her. Clanging and bashing noises come from behind the door, alerting all of our attention, and from a few people close by too.
Nick, stop.
“That doesn’t sound good…” Cory says as we all stand.
Nick, stop! Get off me!
It took me less than a second of hearing her voice before I was up on my feet, heading to the closet. She told him to stop. If he’s touched her in any way without her consent, I will go full – on hulk–mode, and that’s not an exaggeration. I’m at the door in no time, and when I swing it open, I see it. His head is leaning against her neck. One hand gripping the edge of her dress, forcing it up her body. His other fucking hand is clasped around her waist, her fingers digging into his skin, leaving red scratches in their wake. His head snaps up when he hears the door open, and I fucking see red.
I launch myself at Nick, pulling him off her and punching him square in the jaw. He goes down like a sack of shit, and I launch myself at him. In the corner of my eye, I see the girls grab and haul Mallory away. I need to check on her. But right now, what I need to do even more, is kill this motherfucker for ever putting a hand on her. I strike another blow to his face. He gets a lucky punch in, splitting my lip. But I don’t care. I punch him again. And again. And again. I keep punching until I get yanked off him. Tommy and Cory force me away from him as Shawn and Marcus help Nick up, holding him back as he tries to lunge for me.
“You’re fucking dead, Masters, you hear me?” I roar, not caring about people watching. “If you ever put your hands on her again, Masters, I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you, and I’ll enjoy it. Don’t ever look at her again.” Two of the guys Nick came with take over from Marcus and Shawn, as they walk their friend to the door, embarrassment covering their faces. Damon, the QB and owner of the house, and a few other football guys make their way to the door, making sure they leave.
Marcus appears next to me with an ice pack wrapped in a towel.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs bathroom.”
I don’t hear what else Marcus says as I sprint up the stairs. Juliana, Courtney and Abi are sitting on the floor, with all their heads pressed against the door.
“She won’t come out.” Jules says softly. Everyone else vacates the top floor, leaving just the girls and I. I walk over to the door, lightly knocking it with my knuckles, wincing at the pain.
“Mallie?”
“I-I’ll b-be r-right o-out.” She sniffles in between what I can tell are sobs. I know this cry. She’s not going to be done anytime soon. I look around the hall and spot a bottle of bourbon on the counter. I swipe it, knocking again.
“Want a drinking buddy?” I jiggle the bottle, hoping she can hear the swishing of the alcohol. The music has stopped, and the muffled voices have moved outside, so I assume the party’s over.
It’s silent for a minute or two before the soft click of a lock fills the hall. The door opens a crack, and I slip into the room, shutting it behind me. The sight nearly knocks the air clean out my lungs. Mallory is sat on the floor, her heels discarded in a pile in front of her. Her chin is leaning on her knees. Her tears are black from her makeup, leaving a streak down her cheek, dripping onto her knees.
“Y-your k–knuckles a–are b–bleeding,” she says softly, still gripping her ankles for dear life .
“I’ll live.” I walk over to the sink, finding a cloth, running it under the warm water for a second.
“W-will h–he?” She sniffles.
“I fucking hope not.”
I turn the tap off and slowly make my way to her, crouching in front of her. “Is it okay if I touch your face?”
She nods. I slowly bring the cloth up to her cheeks, wiping away the makeup she’s cried off. She doesn’t say anything as she moves her hand to grip my thigh. I don’t either.
When I'm done making sure she doesn’t look like a racoon, she takes the cloth from me and stands, her knees wobbling. She makes her way to the sink and runs it under the water, wiping away any trace of makeup from the cloth. She wrings it out a few times, moving to sit in the same spot as before. I move to the spot next to her, leaning against the wall. She takes the cloth and starts lightly dabbing my lip before bringing it to my knuckles. I left the ice pack Marcus gave me in the hallway. She picks up the bourbon and takes a long swipe from it.
No–one speaks for so long that I’m not sure how much time has passed, but then she says “Thank you,” In the softest, quietest, most un–Mallory–like voice I've ever heard, and it rattles every bone in my body.
“I will always protect you, Mallory. You hear me?”
She crawls into my lap, leaning her head against my chest. Clinging onto my bicep, she nods. “I hear you.”