Chapter Nine — Maya
“It was terrible, Quinn. I felt like a dirty whore. And Oliver called me a slut. What’s happening to me? I used to be such a nice girl—” I hugged my knees to my chin and sat on my bed, pulling my oversized t-shirt down to my feet to cover all of me.
“Hush, Maya. Oliver wouldn’t react like that if he didn’t really want you. I think his rage shows the exact opposite of how you’re reading it. He’s so freaking jealous he can't help himself. And he’s fuming, sure, but what do you expect after he saw Calvin all over you.”
She had a point there. Thank the Lord it wasn’t my father who walked in on us. But then again, it wasn’t him I was trying to provoke to see how far I could push him. More than anything, I wanted Oliver to crack, to acknowledge that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
The expression on my best friend’s face was one of admiration. “By the way, I never thought you’d let Calvin go that far. The plan was to make Oliver jealous by kissing Calvin, not to let him dry hump you.”
Quinn had a way with words that normally made me laugh. But nothing she was saying was brightening my mood. I decided to tell her the truth. I drew in a long breath before I spoke.
“When I saw Oliver standing in the hallway as I came down from the stairs . . . the way he looked at me . . . God, Quinn, it was as if nobody else existed in that moment. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat and it set my body on fire. So when Calvin started kissing me, I closed my eyes and pretended it was Oliver.”
“Okaaay,” she said, drawing out the last syllable for a few beats too long, “but you were aware that Oliver was actually standing there watching Calvin kiss you?”
“Um . . . the best way I can explain it . . . it was like an out-of-body experience. Knowing Oliver was watching and then pretending it was him all over me, I don’t know, I just got so hot that I got carried away.”
“You have it bad, honey. Nearly as bad as Oliver. When will the two of you realize you really want one another?”
I sighed, blinking away the tears that were threatening to overcome me. I turned my head away so that Quinn wouldn’t see my face.
I had it bad. Oliver not so much. He wouldn’t be banging Bianca and letting me know about it. Yet there was something in his eyes in that split second that made me doubt everything I thought he felt about me. Maybe there was the smallest possibility that Quinn was right. I just couldn’t see it, though. One second that morphed into eternity was not enough.
The red dress of sin lay in a heap at the end of my bed.
“That was a bit drastic—telling you to burn the dress,” Quinn said, catching me staring at it. “Does he have any idea how much this scrap of lace costs? The man has no idea, obviously.”
“Listen, just take the dress. I’ll never wear it again anyway. Not just because Oliver said so, either, but because I’ll always remember the look in his eyes when he called me a slut.” Despair filled my voice. “He really thinks I'm a whore, Quinn. In Oliver’s eyes I’m nothing but a cheap slut. He’s never going to want me after this.”
A slow smile spread over her face. “You’re underestimating yourself, honey. Like I said, his reaction was just fear that you’d want another guy instead of him.”
Quinn was smart when it came to men. She had a sixth sense about them. “How can you be so sure?” Damn, I wish I had as much confidence as she did.
“Trust me, okay? I’m your best friend and I don’t want to see you hurt. I’d never tell you something if it weren’t true. You looked amazingly beautiful—there was nothing wrong with you in the dress. It was Oliver who couldn’t handle it. I don’t think he knew what hit him. And while he was trying to figure it out, he found out that someone had beaten him to it. Major ego crush there, babe.” She laughed. “Know what, I actually feel sorry for the poor sucker. He only has eyes for you; nobody else exists when you’re around. I mean, where was Bianca, huh? I bet he didn’t even care that she wasn’t there.”
I crawled between the sheets, tired to the bone. This shit was exhausting. One minute I hated the way he treated me, the next I was turned on as fuck by him. Add to that my raging hormones and I was pretty much screwed.
“Go to sleep, Bee. Everything will look so much better in the morning.”
I stretched my arms and yawned. “I guess. Thanks for being such a great friend. I’d be lost without you.”
“Night, sweetheart,” she said, a smile in her voice.
“Night.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned onto my side. Please could I have a dreamless night? I was bushed. When I wasn’t dealing with Oliver in reality, he was haunting my dreams. I just couldn’t escape the man.
Did I really want to? The thought of him not in my life was nearly scarier than anything else.