Chapter 14
Lainey
“What do you want?”
I snap, watching Holland wince a bit. Good, he should feel like an asshole. That was so unnecessary.
Colton wasn’t being obnoxious. He wasn’t do anything against my will. I was having a good time with him. I swear, Holland picks and chooses which guys to be pissed about, and I’ve never understood how he decides which ones to screw with.
Holland’s eyes meet mine.
“I just wanted to check on you,”
he admits, shrugging. I scoff.
“Well, here I am. I’m leaving,”
I tell him, hoping he’ll accept that and just go away. I’m over being around people today. I’m tapped out on my social battery today.
“I see that. How are you getting home?”
I hold up my phone, showing him my Uber app. He just nods, turning to look out at the road.
“I can take you,”
he offers. That is the last thing I want right now. Being stuck in a car with him while I’m drowning in weird fucking feelings. I’m pissed and irritated, but him being him and standing in front of me, all muscles and smelling like a sex god, is messing with my mind.
“No, I’m fine. The Uber is almost here. You can go back inside,”
I say, turning away from him and toward the road because if I keep looking at him, I might tell him yes.
“You can cancel it. Let me take you home, Barkley.”
“Why would I do that?”
I ask, turning back to him and waiting for him to give me some sort of convincing answer.
He just shrugs, looking to the building and then back to me.
“My sister would kill me if you got kidnapped or killed by a random driver,”
he smirks.
My eyebrow raises and I give him a ‘what the hell are you talking about’ kind of look.
“Really? Killed?”
Holland shifts from one foot to the other, looking like he’s losing his patience.
“It happens. Come on, let’s go,”
he holds out his arm, waiting for me to follow him to his car as the Uber pulls up to the curb.
Well fuck, what the hell do I do?
I look from Holland’s outstretched arm to the Uber now waiting expectantly.
Take the Uber, Lainey. You don’t want to be near Holland right now. Get in the Uber and go home.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I look between them once more. The driver rolls down the passenger side window, leaning down so his head is seen through the crack.
“Are you Winifred Ackley?”
he calls out. I wince at the fake name I’d put in the app because I didn’t want anyone to know my real name.
Holland cocks his head in question, raising an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips.
“Winifred?”
I roll my eyes.
“Shut up,” I hiss.
“Come on, Winifred. Let me take you home,”
he urges. Fuck it.
“Fine.”
Walking toward Holland, he swings his arm over my shoulders, walking us to the parking lot.
Oh, Lainey. You stupid, stupid girl.
When we get to Holland’s Mustang, instead of opening the door for me, he walks to the driver’s side and gets in. Rolling my eyes, I tug on the handle, but it’s locked. Are you kidding me?
I knock on the window to get his attention, and he rolls it down slightly.
“What are you doing? Get in the car,”
he orders. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him.
“I would if I could. It’s locked, genius.”
‘Shit, sorry,”
Holland laughs, unlocking the door so I can finally get in. Is he seriously laughing at me right now? I am in no mood for his shit, and now I’m thinking taking the Uber may have been a better choice.
Pulling on my seatbelt, I look out the window, ignoring Holland completely. Well, I’m trying to, but his annoying ass keeps looking over at me like I’m some exhibit in a museum.
Huffing out a breath, I turn to look at him.
“Do I need to tell you to take a picture because it’ll last longer?”
Holland narrows his eyes, studying my face before shaking his head and turning back to the windshield.
As he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, I sink back into my seat.
“Is bitch your natural setting? Is there like, an off switch for that?”
he asks, my eyes widening at the audacity.
“Excuse me?”
I ask, shooting him the biggest death glare I can muster. Holland chuckles to himself, thinking he’s so fucking funny. Well, he’s not.
“You’re so nice to everyone else, why are you so prickly with me?”
“Because I like other people. I don’t like you,”
I shoot back, knowing that’s a bullshit lie. I do like him. I think I like him a lot even though he annoys the shit out of me, and I want to hit him half the time.
He chuckles again, looking so carefree and unconcerned, and watching him now makes me think about when we were kids, and he would run around without a care in the world.
He had no idea that I was dying inside, no idea how much I yearned for a relationship with my parents like the relationship he had with his. No freaking clue that I was drowning in feelings I couldn’t even comprehend at that age, feelings no child should ever have to endure.
But watching him, seeing how he never let anything bother him, that helped.
“Oh, come on, Lainey Bug. We both know that’s not true. You’re in love with me,”
he teases. My heart stops and a spark of anxious energy runs through me at his words.
I am not in love with him. I’ve never been in love with anyone. I don’t believe that a love like that can exist. Everyone is out for themselves, and you can’t trust anyone to love you enough to stick around when shit gets tough.
“You’re delusional, and borderline insane,”
I hiss, trying not to sound as frazzled as that statement made me feel.
“I am using you for a ride home and that’s it. It doesn’t require talking. So just… shut up.”
“You can use me for a ride anytime, baby,”
he winks.
“Whenever, wherever, and however.”
I scoff, feeling a strange tingle in my core as I let that image fill my head for the briefest of seconds before coming back to reality.
“You are so gross,”
I say.
“I should have taken the Uber,”
I mumble, resting my elbow on the window and leaning my head in my hand. We’re almost home, and then I can get of this car that suddenly feels way too small and get into the shower to wash away the feelings I’m having right now.
When Holland pulls up in front of my campus house, I have a brief feeling of déjà vu as I unbuckle and step out of the car.
Before heading for the door, I turn around to thank him for the ride home, but he’s out and rounding the car to stand in front of me. I stand frozen in place for a moment, letting me alcohol-soaked brain catch up to what’s happening.
“W- what are you doing?”
I stumble over my words. I blame it on the alcohol and not the fact that he’s standing so close to me that I can smell the distinct vanilla and sandalwood scent of his cologne.
The tight, dark navy-blue shirt he’s wearing under his coat shows every ridge and bump on his stomach, and his hair is contained by a black beanie. He looks so much more grown up that I have to remember he’s not the same punk kid I grew up with.
His eyes roam over me once before landing on mine. I’m sure I look confused, because I am. Why did he get out of his car? He could have just left, but he’s standing in front of me, looking like a sex god.
Oh god, Lainey. Shut up. That’s your best friend’s brother. No matter how much their mom tried to get us together when we were younger, Ellie would surely have something to say about it.
No matter how much you want to see what he must be packing under those jeans. I’ve seen the man shirtless, and it is a sight to behold. But never down below, and right now, my vagina wants to see.
Shut up, vagina. You don’t get a say. You’re not in charge here.
“Are you okay?”
Holland asks, looking slightly concerned. It feels like a bucket of ice water was just poured on me. My eyes narrow and my arms cross over my chest like armor.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I ask, a bite to my tone. I’m fine. I’m perfect.
I’m not having confusing as fuck feelings about my best friend’s brother, a guy I practically grew up with. I’m not worried about my parents and why I haven’t heard anything from them in weeks. I’m just peachy.
“Well, you were pissed at me, so-”
he begins.
“I’m always mad at you,”
I interject. Holland rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, okay. Anyway, you seemed pissed off and kind of upset and I just wanted to-”
“I’m fine, Holland. I’m great, honestly,”
I say, my voice a pitch higher than normal. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
His brows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. Why won’t he just leave?
“Have you heard from your-”
I don’t even let him finish that sentence. He knows the answer. It’s the same almost every time someone asks.
“Thank you for driving me home. I have to go take a shower.”
Turning away from him, I begin to head for the front door, but a hand grabs my wrist, stopping me from moving any further. My head falls back out of annoyance. I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with him.
Holland and Ellie know more about me and my life than anyone, even Gwen. Gwen knows the gist of it, but she didn’t grow up with me.
She didn’t see the nights where I’d curl up in a ball and cry because I hadn’t seen or heard from my parents in weeks. She didn’t see me when I was sick and calling out for my ‘mommy’ because all I wanted was her comfort. Holland and Ellie did. They saw it all.
Their mother was the one that stepped in most of the time. My nanny wasn’t very attentive, especially when I was sick, which left Mrs. Monroe to help, and thankfully she did. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
Letting out an exasperated breath, I turn back to face him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just looks down and shakes his head.
“Can you let me go? I have things to do,”
I tell him. I don’t have anything to do but get away from him and erase all of the emotions I’m feeling right now.
He runs a rough hand through his hair and blows out a breath. If I weren’t so irritated, I’d probably chuckle at the fact that he seems so uncomfortable. Holland doesn’t get uncomfortable often, so this is entertaining to say the least.
His eyes burn into mine, filled with emotion and sincerity. His hand releases me and the loss of contact causes a shiver to run down my spine. My hand absentmindedly grabs for my now abandoned wrist and wraps around it.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
he states, and he looks like he actually means that. Like he’s actually sorry, but for what?
“Why?”
“For bringing up your-”
“It’s fine,”
I say, not letting him continue.
“Just… don’t do it again. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d bring it up. Got it?”
I tell him, hoping he just accepts that answer and doesn’t ask any questions.
To my surprise, Holland nods.
“Fine, okay. I won’t bring it up again,”
he tells me, and I believe him.
Looking down at the sidewalk, I shift awkwardly. There’s a weird kind of tension in the air and I’m not quite sure what it is or what it means.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Turning around, I head for the porch before he can stop me to say anything else. Of course the sight of me shutting the door doesn’t deter him from saying his last thought.
“Let my sister know I got you home safe. She’s probably concerned I kidnapped you again,”
he chuckles to himself before heading back to his car and driving the rest of the way down the street to the Elite mansion.
Shit. Ellie, Gwen, and Haley are probably worried sick about how I got home. I’m sure Holland told them he was going to bring me, at least I hope he did.