Chapter Five #3
“You are.” Another step forward. “You’re a pretentious, condescending prick who gets a sick thrill out of making other people feel small. I will not let you treat my boyfriend like trash.”
Boyfriend. Ollie had just claimed me. Motherfuck. I was in love with my pint-sized human.
Gerald’s face had gone red. “Miss Patty, are you going to allow him to speak to me this way?”
“I think everyone should just calm down.” Her voice had lost all its floaty quality. She sounded tired, like she’d suddenly aged ten years. “Let’s all take a breath and—”
“This class isn’t for his kind!” Gerald pointed at me with a shaking finger. “They act like they own this town, when they’re nothing but trash!”
Ollie launched himself at Gerald.
My hand shot out, catching Ollie around the waist before he could make contact. His momentum carried him forward, but I had him secure, lifting him clean off his feet. His legs kicked at empty air, and he twisted in my grip, still trying to get at Gerald.
“Let me go!” Ollie’s voice came out in a snarl. “I’m going to knock his stupid glasses off his stupid face!”
Thank fuck I hadn’t brought a bigger flask. Drunken me would’ve let Ollie unleash himself, which would’ve been the absolutely wrong call.
“You’re not doing anything.” I adjusted my hold, keeping him dangling over my arm while his feet swayed a good six inches off the floor. He weighed nothing. Absolutely nothing. “We’re leaving.”
“Not until I knock his teeth out!”
“Now.”
“I’d kick him in the balls if he had any!”
“Ollie.”
He went rigid, every muscle coiled tight with fury. “Fine. But I’m not done with him. Nobody calls you trash. You’re not trash, Diesel. You’re not.”
“I know.” I headed for the door, carrying Ollie like an angry cat. Behind us, the room had erupted into whispers and shocked gasps. “Everyone have a good night.”
Miss Patty started to say something, but I was already through the beaded curtain, shoving through the front door and out into the parking lot. The evening air hit my face, cleansing my lungs from the incense-thick atmosphere inside.
“Put me down.” Ollie was still tense in my grip, his voice tight.
“You gonna try to go back in there?”
“Maybe.”
“Then no.”
“Diesel.”
“Ollie.”
“I’m serious. Put me down.”
Setting him on his feet, I kept one hand on his shoulder just in case he decided to make a run for the door. He didn’t. Instead, he spun to face me, his expression a mix of fury and embarrassment.
“That was—” He stopped, running both hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“You were defending me.”
“I was about to assault Gerald.” His hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists again. “I don’t do things like that. I don’t threaten people. I don’t—”
“You did tonight.”
“Because he was being mean to you.” The words burst out of him, sharp and angry. “Sitting there all smug, acting like he’s better than you because his painting looks nice. And then he had the nerve to tattle like we’re in kindergarten? Who does that?”
“Gerald, apparently.”
“I hate him.” Ollie started pacing, his boots crunching against the gravel.
“I hate that he made you feel bad about your painting. I hate that Miss Patty spent the whole night treating you like you didn’t belong. I hate that I even suggested we come here. You’re not trash, Diesel, not even if your name is fuel.”
A sensation punched through my chest, knocking the air right out of my lungs. Ollie didn’t notice, too busy seething.
Fuck. I rubbed my sternum. My wolf had just chosen Ollie as its mate.
“Ollie.” I kept the shock out of my voice.
He kept pacing, his rant picking up speed.
“And the flask thing? Who cares? You paid for the class. You should be allowed to drink whatever you want. It’s not like you were being disruptive or bothering anyone. The sip part never said it had to be wine. It says you just have to sip. You were sipping! You were just sitting there,
trying to paint, and they made it into this whole thing because—”
“Ollie.”
“—because they decided you didn’t fit their idea of what someone at a paint and sip should look like, and that’s bullshit. Complete bullshit!”
He headed back toward the door. I steered him away with just one hand.
“I want our paintings. I worked hard on mine, and yours was blobby sunset.” He glanced up at me, eyes wet. “We painted those together. They’re pieces of our journey, Diesel.”
Pivoting, I headed back inside. Everyone was gathered by Gerald’s easel, talking in hushed tones. Conversation died when I walked through the wall of beads. Eyes wide, Gerald ducked behind Miss Patty.
Ollie would’ve wiped the floor with him, but I refused to let that happen. His hands were clean and were going to stay that way.
“Diesel,” Miss Patty said.
“Just grabbing what we paid for.” I lifted Ollie’s painting first, cradling it carefully. The paint was still wet. Then mine, not with as much care.
They’d ruined Ollie’s evening. He’d been looking forward to tonight, and two narrow-minded people had taken that from him. They needed to consider themselves lucky they were still breathing.