The Boy Next Door

Chapter Sixteen

"I know. I don't know what happened," I sighed. "All I have done is dream about going to the prom with him."

"So why aren't you?"

"I don't want to go, not after everything."

"Oh, well, that's understandable. I'm sure Olly knows how you feel; he was probably just embarrassed after putting himself out there."

I thought for a moment about how this morning went down. "Oh crap, you're right. I hadn't even considered that," I said, rolling the daisy stem between my thumb and forefinger. Mila shrugged her shoulders with a small smile.

"Do you have a date for the prom?" I asked, and the whistle blew, and the sports coach hollered.

"Oh, oh," Mila said. "Looks like the skaters are trying to crash their game.

I stood up, brushed the cut grass from me and frowned as I watched Lewis square up to a guy. And as I squinted, it was the boy from behind me. He was shouting at Olly, with Lewis intervening. My first instinct was to go over.

I took a step, and Mila gripped my arm, "No, Ashley, don't. Don't you know who that is? He isn't worth getting involved with."

I furrowed my brows, mouth gaping, palms sweaty. "But Olly could get hurt."

"And what are you going to do?" My shoulders relaxed, letting a large breath out. She was right.

I froze beside her and watched a display of shouting and pushing before the teacher got involved. The guy then looked in our direction, as did Olly. I didn't know what to do or what to think.

Olly then stepped closer to him, tensed his jaw and muttered something before wiping his beautifully smelling sweat from his forehead and picking up his bag.

"Do you know what's happening?" Mila said, picking up the long cardigan she had been sitting on and shaking it.

"Not a clue," I muttered, biting the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, he's on the way over. He looks pissed, and I don't like confrontation, so I'm going to bail. Sorry, I hope to see you soon."

"Enjoy the prom," I shouted as she crossed the field.

I watched Olly saunter towards me. His gaze was fierce, and it had me flustering as it did every time. He looked as tense as I felt. Behind him, I could see the skaters watching, that guy with his skateboard firmly behind his head on his shoulder, staring.

As he drew closer, my heart rate rose as my nerves got the better of me. When he was in earshot, I said, "Olly, what's going on? Who was that guy? How do you know him?" but he cut me off.

He chucked his bag on the floor and grabbed me into his arms, planting his lips onto mine, stealing my breath and every other sense. His hand was firmly on my quivering spine and the other within the crease on my neck. His lips and his kiss were unbearably fragile. There were no words, just a smooth sensation beautifully awakening me, so tender I felt powerless and was suddenly stoned.

The atmosphere between us was hot and thick, and I was fully aware our classmates were around us. I didn't let it embarrass me and responded naturally to him. Gently cupping his face, I fell hopelessly into his arms, embracing the exquisite taste of his kiss.

When he let go, he leaned his forehead against mine and grinned. His arms stayed tightly wrapped around me, protecting me and making me feel safer than I ever had.

"Forget about him," he whispered, and when I scanned the field, he was there, punching someone else.

"Erm, I'm so confused," I swallowed.