Surge (45 page)

“Olivia, what are you doing out here?” I ask, just as she’s about to remove her turtleneck. Her head snaps around and her owlish eyes stare at me. Her hand, which was frozen gripping the bottom of her shirt, immediately comes back to life as she pulls it away in a balled fist. I shrug my shoulders.

“If you have to, kick my ass; I don’t give a fuck, but you will talk to me.” Olivia’s eyes widen a little more, if that were possible. “You haven’t spoken to anyone other than Tommy in days, and you won’t even look at me. I’m sorry that I was an assumptive asshole, I didn’t mean it. I was just talking, and if I offended you, once again I apologize; but this has to stop. I miss talking to you. I miss hearing you sing and laugh, or curse out anyone who pisses you off.” Her mouth is gaping at me, but I keep going. “This meek girl who hides behind a locked door, is not the Olivia I know, and I want her back.”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” she says quietly. “I was mad at myself.” I look at her in confusion, so she explains. “Come on, Jared, here you are trying to teach me something, and how do I repay you for your troubles? By unloading shit onto you, that no one wants to acknowledge exists; like you were some pompous, overpaid psychiatrist.” Olivia twists her finger at her head. “But my crazy ass just dumps it onto your shoulders, as if you don’t have enough to deal with already.” She breaks eye contact and toes her socked foot in the sand as she mutters, “Damn your eyes.”

“So, you aren’t pissed at me?” I ask for confirmation, and her head snaps up with a puzzled expression. “You haven’t spoken, or looked at me in four days.”

“Jesus Christ, men are clueless,” Olivia replies with a shake of her head. “I was embarrassed. Here I am, trying to have a normal conversation with someone, and

I start spilling shit that’s better left inside.”

“I didn’t mind. It’s better to get that stuff off your chest. It’s poisonous to keep inside, like a cancer eating away at your soul.”

“Trust me, no one wants to crack this skull open,” Olivia says with a self-conscious grin, and a knock to her head. “Believe me, the shit that would come pouring out, would drown a village with nightmares for eternity.”

“That’s all the more reason to start sharing it,” I insist and wave a hand at her. “I mean, you may be a badass, but you’re freaking pint sized.” Olivia scowls at me, but I continue. “I’m serious, that tiny frame will eventually crush under the weight. So, will you take those nightmares, and whip that shit into shape; making yourself stronger, or let them rule you and win?”

“Fuck that,” Olivia spits out. “Those fuckers have taken enough from me.”

“Good, now let’s beat those assholes into submission.”

“Later,” she says. I give her a look for stalling, but she rolls her eyes and holds up three fingers. “I, Olivia Ann Prescott, do solemnly swear to follow Jared’s nightmare kicking techniques, in order to make myself stronger and avoid having my pint sized body from being crushed internally.” She looks at me expectantly, but my mind is a little preoccupied with her announcing herself with Cory’s last name; which is Travis’s, so it takes me a minute to respond.

“That’s good, now why are we not starting now?” Olivia points to her bare feet.

“I was planning on going for a swim,” she answers. “But you tend to find me whenever I’m trying to have some relaxing
‘ME’
time.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But how the hell is swimming out here alone, while watching out for wheezers; who want to bite your ass off, relaxing?”

“Trust me, the only thing out here that will be taking a bite out of my ass, is the freaking asshole mosquitoes,” Olivia replies. “Now, either join me, or go away.” With that, she begins stripping. I’m tongue tied as the layers start coming off at a rapid pace, but I manage one question.

“How do you know that we aren’t going to be ambushed by wheezers?” I ask in a strangled tone, that I’m hoping she takes for fear; instead of what it is. Olivia pauses to throw a look over her shoulder.

“They don’t like water,” she answers. “And they drown if they try to come in.”

I nod and she goes back to removing clothes. I’ve already seen her leather jacket, a turtleneck, three t-shirts, and two sports bras come off. How the hell she’s been wearing all of that, and still has more on, while in this heat and hasn’t stroked out; is a miracle all in its own. When she’s down to her last shirt, she glances over at me in my boxers and bites her lip.

“C-can you turn around so I can c-change?”

“Of course,” I say and quickly turn my back to her. “I don’t know how many more clothes you could possibly have on. It looks like you’re wearing your entire wardrobe.”

“It’s required,” she says.

“For what?” I ask. “Lighter pack to carry?”

“Protection.”

“I think the leather’s strong enough to protect you from wheezer teeth,” I reply.

“It’s not the wheezers I’m worried about,” she whispers. I don’t say anything to that, because what could I say?
‘I’ll protect you
,
’
and then have a shoe thrown at my head? Besides, I’m sure that Travis or Cory have said things similar in the past, and she still wound up like this.

“You can turn now.” I turn to find her wearing boys basketball shorts; never have I found bare ankles and calves so sexy, but I move on before my boxers start tenting, to find a loose Rolling Stones t-shirt with their iconic lips on her chest.

“Great band,” I say and she smiles. “There’s the Livia we were all missing.”

“Really?” Olivia asks with a hopeful expression as she walks into the lake.

“Yeah,” I answer with a wave to say,
‘are you kidding?’
“John was ready to kick my ass for making him miss his favorite new show called
Whack the Wheezer
.” Olivia laughs, so I continue to lighten her up. “Cory’s been growling at anyone who so much as says your name. Leonard has been threatening to go on strike if he didn’t get his
‘bestest friend’
back. And Tommy, the selfish bastard, is the only one you’ve paid any attention to.”

“You leave Tommy alone,” she says with the fierce expression of a momma bear protecting her cub. Okay then, so she’s made an attachment, and it’s not me. Not a big deal, really. It just makes my chest burn, and my jaw clench, but it’s alright.

“I wasn’t saying anything bad about him,” I say, but internally, I’m cursing him to hell. “I was just merely stating that the only person you’ve acknowledged as alive in the last few days, is him.”

“Well, I like him,” she says simply. So simply, that it’s equivalent to stabbing me in the heart region, with one of her daggers. “And he’s very smart.”

“Smart?” I ask and she nods. “I wouldn’t know that, on account of him barely speaking.”

“That’s because he’s shy,” Olivia replies. “He and I are actually a lot alike.” I look at her dubiously, so she explains. “We are. Tommy suffers from social anxiety, which causes him to stutter. He’s been teased and bullied for it his whole life, so he tends to avoid people and only speak when he feels comfortable. And only then in short, well thought out sentences.”

“I always thought he was just a man of few words,” I say and feel like an ass.

“No, he’s just afraid that he’ll stumble on his words, and you’ll all laugh at him,” she says. “For instance, did you know that he has a crush on Marissa a mile long, and is too afraid to do something about it?” I shake my head. “That’s right, he can’t work up the courage to talk to her, so he observes from afar, while John uses her as nothing more than a plaything.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I say and she shakes her head rapidly with wide eyes.

“Are you crazy?” Olivia exclaims. “You don’t confront someone with social anxiety.”

“Not him, John,” I explain and she nods her head. “John may be a player, but he’s a good guy. If someone else truly wants the girl, he’ll step aside.”

“Good, because Tommy deserves a little happiness.”

“And what about you?” I hold my breath, since she doesn’t like Tommy that way, I may still be able to convince Olivia that I’m the guy for her.

“I’m plenty happy,” she replies. “Now, get your ugly ass in here, before I decide to drown you, Mouth.” I laugh as I walk in.

“Sure thing, LC,” I say. Olivia looks at me curiously. “You know, Lara Croft in Tomb Raider?” Olivia starts chuckling at that.

“Oh my god, I dressed up as her for Halloween,” she gasps between laughs. My eyes must show some interest, since I’m fucking tap dancing in my head with anticipation of the details, so she continues. “Junior year, I wanted to be something different. All the girls went with the stereotypical angel, devil, French maid or other bull shit; but I didn’t want that. There I was, digging through my closet to get ideas, when I find the box with my old PlayStation. Wouldn’t you know what game was still inside the console? And the kickass heroine just happened to be perfect, so I grabbed a wife beater, a pair of tan shorts, a belt, and borrowed Cory’s shoulder holsters for my fake pistols.”

“Do you happen to have a picture of this?” I ask and try not to swallow my tongue. “For curiosity’s sake, and comparison I mean.” Olivia squints her eyes at me in confusion, but shrugs as she answers.

“I think Cory has a copy in his wallet.” I’m stealing that as soon as possible. “Wait until you see who he dressed as.”

“Who?” I inquire, because as freaking excited at the possibility of seeing my fantasy come to life, I’m mildly curious about what Mr. Serious would wear.

“Patience is a virtue,” she replies with a smirk.

“Why couldn’t
‘hurry the fuck up’
be a virtue?” I ask.

Olivia laughs as she starts unbraiding her hair. Now, I’ve only witnessed her hair down twice, so you’ll have to forgive me for blatantly staring at it for a good three minutes. It’s a beautiful, glossy shade of black that contrasts with her pale skin and shimmers in the moonlight like satin. I want to go over and run my fingers through it to see if it feels as soft as it looks, so congratulate me on my self-control. It’s slightly curled from her braid, but it still reaches to her lower back when unbound. My mouth moves before my brain gives it permission.

“Beautiful.”

“Huh?” Olivia asks with her cute little nose scrunched up. Thinking on my toes, I throw an arm out in hopes of inspiration. The wetness dripping off of my arm, answers it.

“The lake,” I say and clear my husky throat. “The lake is beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah. I loved coming out here as a kid,” she says and takes in the moonlit view. “We used to come up to the cabin in the summertime, spend a week sun bathing on the dock, or tubing.”

“So, the cottage is...” I trail off and wait for her to answer.

“My mom’s inheritance from her parents. They were awesome, but they had three kids to split the will, so she got this; while they got other properties, and now this is mine.”

“Thanks for sharing your home with us,” I say and she laughs.

“Just because this one belongs
legally
to me doesn’t mean that the rest aren’t mine.” I look at her to explain. “I have keys for about thirty homes.” My eyes widen at that, but she just shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many people leave their spares in plain sight. Like under a doormat, in those stupid fake rocks, or a potted plant. You just have to look, and wel-la, you’ve got yourself a mansion, a cabin in the woods, or a million dollar condo with a view. The possibilities are endless.”

“Why, you little thief,” I say and she grins mischievously.

“You should see me pick a lock, or hot wire a ‘vette.”

“Can you teach me?” I ask excitedly. Olivia’s eyes shine those blue flecks when she nods. “Speaking of teaching, do you still want to learn how to shoot?”

“You still want to teach me?” Olivia asks carefully, like she can’t believe I would willingly spend more time with her. Please, I’m practically begging for more time with her.

“Hell yes I do,” I say and just to make it seem that I’m not so ecstatic, I add more. “Obviously, I can’t allow you to lead us, if you can’t even shoot your way out of a paper bag.” Olivia splashes me for that, but she’s fighting a smile. “Oh, it is so on.”

Splashing her back in retaliation, a war is waged. Olivia uses her tiny arm to swipe the surface of lake water at me, so I show her how it’s really done; with two massive waves created from my bulkier arms. Her husky laugh warms something in my chest, but I ignore it. I won’t allow whatever that is, to ruin my Livia moment, so I embrace her weak splashes with a smile plastered so big on my face; I’m worried it might not return to normal so long as she’s around to put it there. Ignoring that ridiculous thought as well, I finish the splash fight by lying on my back, and kicking my feet at her.

When I stand back up, Olivia’s hair is dripping and she’s clutching her arms across her Rolling Stones t-shirt to try and contain her laughter. It’s slightly raspy, maybe from laughing so hard, but it doesn’t seem to bother her; so I don’t mention it. I take her in from the top of her drenched head, to her soaked white t-shirt. Hold up,
white
t-shirt. I know what you think I’m looking at, and those bound beauties did get a glance; guy here remember, but those aren’t what capture my attention.

What does capture my attention is located below the breasts; that I finally see the cause of their disappearance of them being what has to be seven bras and an ace bandage, but I’ll ask about their constriction later. Right now, my fists are balled at the sight of the scars on her stomach and ribs. There are a variety of them, some that look to be puncture wounds, others are burns, and some I don’t recognize are all scattered around without an obvious pattern. Olivia must see me looking, because she starts clutching her stomach for a totally different reason.

“I want you to tell me about those when you’re ready, alright?” I ask and she nods. “Good, let’s go get dried off, my ass has officially become a buffet.”

Olivia gives me a quick nod, before scurrying out of the lake. I follow behind and nearly bite a hole in my lip when I see her back covered in even worse scarring than the front. Glancing away before I have to punch something, I pull my sweats back over my wet boxers and tug my shirt on. Instead of getting redressed, she just grabbed her mountain of clothes, and started jogging toward the woods.