Dedicated to The_Aristocrat because we're selfish like that and this chapter is 80% her hardwork. Give her some love, yo! She's awesome -- though she is in frequent denial of that fact.
Picture of Oliver (aka Danny Schwarz) in the sidebar.
Chapter song: LMFAO's Sexy and I Know It
***Oliver's POV***
When I walk on by, girls be looking like damn he fly ... Ah ... Girl look at that body ... Ah ... Girl look at that body ... Ah ... I work out ... I'm sexy and I know it.
Do you see that guy under the covers?
The one in just his boxer shorts, his mouth-watering abs in full display?
That’s me, Oliver I’ll-make-you-drop-your-panties Wood.
If you haven’t noticed -- and it’s not like you can’t -- I’m hot.
So why are the covers over my head, you ask? Well it’s fucking summer -- and since I’m a teen and sleep is my first priority -- I wake up when that big ball of light called the sun (for all you Internet crazed folks out there)is long gone before waking up.
“Ollie!” A high-pitched kiddie screech cuts through my dream -- and let me tell you, it was a good dream. About Belle and her pert little arse and her mouth on my --
“Ollie!”
I groan, rolling over, trying to block out the noise with my pillow.
I love you pillow -- Have I ever told you that? Well I’m telling you now.
“Oh, Ollie!”
A guy couldn’t catch a fucking break around here, could he?
The screaming voice was right by my ear now. “Ollie, Ollie, Ollie!” my annoying, seven year old, sister, Luna, screams at the top of her lungs. Each time she says my name, she hits my arm surprisingly hard with her small fists.
Is it still illegal to murder your little sister? I’ll give her a proper funeral and everything, I swear.
“Are you awake?!” Her voice raises an octave -- I didn’t know that was even possible -- and I think I go fucking deaf.
What else could explain the ringing in my ears?
“I am now,” I growl, opening an eyelid to glare at her. “Why are you waking me up so early?” I sneak a look at my alarm clock. “It’s twelve in the goddamn morning, Lu.”
She rolls her big blue eyes at me and flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder. This was something she just learned to do but did whenever she got the chance.
“It’s noon,” she tells me in a ‘duh’ tone and I roll my eyes at her. “And Mum says you should get out of bed now. They’ll be leaving soon and they need you to take care of Fred and me for the afternoon.”
“Leaving?” I ask, throwing an arm over my eyes to block out the sun -- Who made it so fucking bright in the first place? -- “Where the hell are they going?”
“They’re going to the moon, remember?”
“Moon?” I ask, my voice muffled.
“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p’.
Removing my arm, I blink a few times at Luna before it clicks. “You mean that’s today?” I snag another look at digital alarm clock on the table next to my bed. Well, shit.
“Tomato, tomatah -- I already asked them to get me a star,” she replies proudly, ignoring my question.
“They’re going to Europe on a honeymoon, Lu -- not the friggin’ moon. They’re going to eat baguettes in Paris and pasta in Italy and whatever other shit they’ve got across the Atlantic,” I yawn, running one hand through my dark brown hair and another over my my face.
Instantly, she pouts -- where the hell does she learn these things? -- “So … no star?”
“No star,” I tell her flatly. “Now get out of my face, I need to take a leak.”
She scrunches her nose up and sticks her tongue out at me. “Mum and Dad are waiting in the kitchen -- better hurry up,” she sings before skipping out of my room.
I’m sure you don’t want to hear about me expending bodily fluids. I’m hot and all -- but no one wants to hear about that.
So while I get through my morning demons, I’ll tell you a bit more about my family -- which is a perfectly normal thing to think about while you’re taking a leak.
Mum was born and raised in London. She came to the US for a semester of graduate school at NYU. She ran into Dad -- literally -- in a bar where he ruined her favorite cashmere sweater by spilling a glass of expensive red wine on it.
They’ll tell you it was love at first sight.
But that’s bull shit.
Knowing the two of them, knives and forks were probably flying in the air before they realized they liked each other.
Mum is now an English literature professor at NYU. But even after twenty years of living stateside, she still talks like a bloody Brit. That’s why I sometimes turn on the Brit-speak as well -- the ladies dig it. Her job also explains my name, along with Luna and Fred’s.
The brats, obviously, were named after Harry Potter characters. If you do the math -- which, like me, you probably won’t -- you’ll see my now eight-year-old brother Fred was born in 2005 and the seventh Harry Potter book didn’t come out until 2007. No one cried as much as Mum did when Fred Weasley died since he was, obviously, her favorite twin. Luna was named after that weird blonde chick who was Mum’s favorite girl in the whole Potter franchise.
And just to be clear, I was named after Oliver from Oliver Twist -- not that Scottish guy who ran around with a broom up his arse. It’s just a fucking coincidence that we share the same first and last name.
Dad, on the other hand, owns Forest Games and Apps Dev’t. Unltd. -- or Forest Games if those were too many words for you.
I told him he should’ve named the company Playing with Wood but that was, apparently, too pervy for his tastes.
Anyway, Forest Games was one of the first companies to make games and apps for Facebook and smart phones. Now, it’s one of the most successful. That just makes Dad one of the richest new media tycoons in the business -- which indirectly makes us pretty freaking rich.
My parents are very busy people -- which is why Mum’s been acting like a kid in candy land since she found out their vacation times finally matched up. They could finally go on that Europe trip she always wanted.
Speaking of Mum, she would flip her shit if she saw me walking around in just my boxers. So I pulled on a pair of sweatpants before heading on to the kitchen for some grub.
Mum notices me standing by the kitchen entryway. She tucks a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear and offers me a warm smile then quickly goes back to scribbling on the piece of paper in front of her. Dad just stares at his iPad intently like all the universe’s secrets are written on there but he acknowledges my presence with a grunt. Fred and Luna, on the other hand, ignore me completely and continue talking about whatever kids these days yap about -- probably Barney.
Wait -- is that purple fucker still on TV?
I slip into my seat, ready to dig into my food and feed the raging beast inside of me -- did I mention I’m a bit of a poet? -- but stop when I see the plate Mum set in front of me.
There’s one thing I can always be sure of when I sit down on the kitchen table for a meal: I’ll always have a plate filled with food.
Except today, my plate isn’t full.
I look up at Mum.
THERE IS AN IMPOSTER IN OUR MIDST.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT.
“Mum, what the hell is this?” I gawk.
Dad looks up from his iPad, finally, and answers for her. “It’s lunch, Oliver.”
I pick up the sandwich -- a lame PB and J -- with two fingers. “This isn’t lunch -- it’s a fucking snack!”
“Oliver Matthew Woods!” Mum warns, her hazel eyes flashing with anger. “How many times do I have to tell you not to talk like that in front of your brother and sister?”
“Sorry,” I grumble and point back at the sandwich. “But this isn’t lunch, Mum,” I repeat incredulously. “I’m a growing boy, I need real food.”
She shoots me an apologetic smile as she finishes her scribbling and sticks the paper to the fridge underneath a grape-shaped magnet. “Sorry, Ollie-kins.”
I cringe at that stupid nickname.
“I didn’t have time to make anything better with all the last minute packing,” she continues, ignoring my discomfort. “The car will be here soon so if you want anything else, you’ll have to make it yourself.”
“Mum,” I say slowly, my own hazel eyes widening slightly. “I’ll burn down the goddamn house before I cook something --”
“Or you’ll burn down the house while you’re cooking,” Fred pipes in, his blue eyes shining with amusement. His pale blonde hair flopping into his face as he starts to giggle.
I glare at my eight year old brother and pick up the ‘sandwich’roughly, shoving it into my mouth. As I’m chewing, my gaze lands on the duffel bags piled side by side with the expensive suitcases.
Let’s freeze-frame here for a second, shall we?
You know what I should’ve done when I saw those blasted things? Drowned them in alcohol, put a lighter to them, and spread the ashes over the fucking sea -- that’s what.
You wanna know what I do instead?
I just fucking ask about them.
Curiosity killed the fucking cat -- and in this case, it ends up ruining my life too.
“You guys are bringing duffel bags to Paris?”
Mum’s gaze follows mine and she shakes her head. “No. I thought I told you this before? Those are the sitter’s. She’s coming today at --”
I didn’t hear any more after that. My mind was stuck on one word.
Sitter. Today. As in babysitter. The fuck?
“-- So we’ll need you to take care of Luna and Fred until then. You think you can do that for just a little while?” Mum looks at me expectantly and it’s as if something clicks.
“A babysitter? I’m seventeen for God’s sake! I can take care of myself and the brats.”
Mum gives me the ‘look’. When Mum pulls that face, it means she’s either in pain or about to give you an earful.
Probably the latter, in this case.
“Oliver Matthew Wood,” Mum narrows her eyes.
Wow. I got the full name warning twice in five minutes. That had to be a fucking record.
“Do you remember the last time we left you with your siblings?”
How could I forget it? My parents would never let me live that one down for the rest of my fucking life.
Bringing home the wrong kids from the park will earn you a bitch slap from the said kids’ sister, an earful from your mum, a surprisingly strong kick in the shin from Luna and a week of being ignored by Fred.
Can you really blame me? There were just so many babes at the park.
I’m not talking about the smelly, disgusting little pink crying balls of drool and poop. No. I’m talking about their hot sisters and nannies.
“I was young and ignorant!” I argue. “Young people make mistakes.”
Dad stares at me. His blue eyes have an intense look in them and he runs a hand through his blond hair. “That was last month.”
I shrug. “I’ve grown up since then. See.” I point to the hint of stubble on my jaw. “I’m no longer a boy,” I say, dramatically looking off into the distance. “But a man.”
Mum and Dad roll their eyes while Fred just looks at me, confused.
“I thought you needed a wee-wee to be a man?” He looks at Mum. “Did Oliver just get his wee-wee, Mum?”
Everyone bursts out laughing and I scowl at him.
“No, I did not just get my wee-wee,” I say through clenched teeth.
Why am I calling my dick a wee-wee?
Fred’s eyes widen and he raises an eyebrow at me. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
Mum, who’s laughing so loudly, actually has to excuse herself from the kitchen. Dad is shaking so hard he looks like an overgrown chihuahua.
I just scowl, get up, and leave through the sliding glass doors.
Once outside, I strip down to my boxers -- and no, not just for the fun of it. We have a big ass pool in our big ass back yard.
Don’t look at me like that. Rich, remember? Of course we live in a friggin’ mansion.
I start swimming laps, focusing on getting faster with each lap. When I finally get tired, I just float around and think.
What am I going to do about the goddamn sitter? Obviously my parents have deemed me irresponsible -- which I am -- to take care of myself and the brats. That really doesn’t work in my favor.
The last time I had a nanny was when I was seven. Her name was Gertrude -- I shit you not. She was just this bag of prune-y skin and bones who would pinch my cheeks way too hard and sleep like the dead for the whole day. Well, she already looked like she was a member of the undead anyway.
But that’s besides the point.
I need a plan -- something to get rid of the sitter. Something that would piss her off, something that would ... and then it comes to me.
I’m popular, my parent’s are leaving, the baby sitter won’t be here ‘til later.
Let’s get the party started then, shall we?
It’s not like the old hag could do anything once it started, right?
Oh, how wrong I was.
“The limo will be here any moment, Oliver,” Mum tells me, digging through her purse. Once she finds what she’s looking for -- their tickets -- she looks back up at me. “I have all the emergency numbers on the fridge --”
So that’s what she was writing this morning.
“And I’m pretty sure the baby sitter will be here by seven tonight,” she continues. “Now all you have to do is make sure she settles in fine. She’s getting the guest room right next to yours. Be a gentleman and bring her bags to her room so she won’t have so hard of a time settling in when she arrives, understand?”
“Next to mine?” I ask. “How about the other one hundred freaking ones we have?”
She gives me the ‘look’ again. “What if she needs something? You’ll be there to ... assist her.”
“Geez, are we paying her or is she paying us?”
“Oliver!”
“Fine, Mum,” I say, rolling my eyes when she isn’t looking -- Mum’s all about courtesy and chivalry. She smiles and kisses me on the cheek when we hear a thump. We both look over to see Dad struggling with the luggage.
“Would you mind giving me a hand, Oliver?” he puffs out.
Together, we haul the luggage out onto the porch just as the limo pulls up in front of the house.
“The limo’s here!” Mum squeals. She looks at Dad who smiles at her enthusiasm. They share this moment that’s supposed to be make girls swoon and shit. It just makes me feel awkward so I clear my throat.
“I’ll just go put these in the car,” I say, picking up two suitcases and hauling them into the trunk. Dad joins me a few minutes later and we close the trunk.
“Thanks, son,” he says, clapping me on the back just as Mum comes up to the car.
“Let’s go, Matthew!” She says, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the limo. She then turns to look at me. “Please stay out of trouble while we’re gone. We’ll be checking in on you guys via email and Skype. I don’t want to hear anything that’ll make us have to come back before we have to.” She gives me a pointed look and I nod. “Oh and remember --”
“I know, I won’t let them starve,” I say with an eye roll.
She glares at me. “Oliver Matthew Wood, that is not something to joke about!”
“Sandra, he knows to call us if there’s a problem,” Dad reminds her. That earns him a sigh from Mum.
“I suppose you’re right,” she says after a minute with a small smile before hugging me. “We’ll be off now, so just go in and lock the door. I heard there was a robbery in the neighborhood and someone was seriously hurt --”
“Mum,” I say, cutting her off and she smiles apologetically.
“Right, I’m rambling now, aren’t I? I just worry. I’m a mother and it’s in my job description. We have to protect the nest and the birdies --”
“Sandra,” Dad cuts her off this time. “I think he gets it. Now, come on or we’ll miss the flight.”
She nods, attacking me with another hug -- like we weren’t going to see each other for a millenium instead of two weeks -- before giving Luna and Fred their own mother bear hugs. After a shaky breath, she finally gets in the car.
Mum wants to go, yet she doesn’t want to at the same time -- I’ll never understand women.
Luna, Fred and I watch in silence until the car turns the corner and disappears from view.
Once it does, I turned around and smirk at the two brats. “Okay morons, get inside and go to your rooms.”
“Why do we have to go to our rooms?” Luna asks saucily.
“Because I said so, that’s why,” I say.
“So?” Fred counters.
“Just get inside and sit wherever the fuck you want, okay?!” I growl at them and they both grin like the little devils they are.
“Okie dokie then,” Luna chirps, skipping into the house with Fred right behind her.
Once in my room I get the plan in motion. Pulling out my phone I text Finn, a friend of mine from the swim team.
Parents outta town. Party at my house. Invite everyone and anyone.
Short and to the point. I grin to myself.
Not even a minute later he replies back.
Cool. 7 sound OK to you?
Nah. Get everyone at my place by 6.
This time his reply is instant.
On it.
A party was long overdue anyway.
Now the only thing I had to do was call Belle Porter.
Belle Porter is the babe every guy wants to fuck. The one every guy touches themselves to, the one they all think about when they jerk off -- the one who gets every guy hard when she just walks into a room.
Belle Porter is the fucking maximum on the hotness scale at Fells High.
She had the hourglass figure -- the soft, ripe swell of her breasts molding into her tiny waist, shapely hips and a pair of legs that looked like they were meant to wrap around certain things, if you know what I mean.
Even her face looked like it was made to make a saint move over to the dark side -- short dark brown hair that always looked like she’d just had a good rumble in the sack, come hither eyes, and lips that would look good on ... well, you-know-where.
I pulled up her number on my phone and called her. She was the lucky lady who’d be enjoying the pleasure of my company tonight.
“Hello?” she answers in a low, sexy purr.
Fuck. Even her voice was enough to get a guy going.
“Hey,” I say, my voice husky.
She laughs. It’s all light and tinkly and I feel it all the way to my gut -- and yonder. “Who am I speaking to?”
“Oliver,” I laugh with her. “Oliver Wood. I’m having a party tonight.”
“Really?” she asks. I could imagine her biting her lip right now and I could barely stop myself from groaning.
“Mmhmm,” I smiled. “I just wanted to ask you if you could stop by.”
“You’re inviting me personally?” she giggles. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Oliver,” she says breathily.
My name coming out of her mouth? Fucking heaven.
I might just need a cold shower after this phone call.
“So, you think you can come over later?” I ask.
“I think I can definitely squeeze a party into my schedule. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be,” and she pauses, taking in a slow, deep breath. “Fun.”
At the point, I’m smiling at nothing in particular. “Great. The party’s at six,” I remind her.
“Can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.”
I end the call with a Cheshire-sized grin on my face. Pocketing my phone, I walk out into the hallway and call out for Luna and Fred. There’s one last thing to do.
Where are those little buggers?
“Fred, Lu?” I call out. “Where the fuck are you guys?”
The two brats had the nerve to continue ignoring me.
I finally found them in the living room where they were watching Barney -- apparently the fucker is still on TV.
“Did you need anything?” Luna asks, her gaze not moving from the screen.
I snatch the remote from the spot on the couch next to her and turn off the TV. Fred glares at me while Luna reaches up for my outstretched hand in a futile attempt to snatch the remote back.
I give them my sweetest older brother smile. “How do you two feel about a little party?
I realize most of you may not know me so, greetings!
I love all you nugglets for the support we’re getting and yes it is FINALLY up, your eyes deceive you not. I hope you guys like it! I know I love Oliver ;) Of course not as much as Julian -wink, wink. tickle, tickle-
And don’t forget to Cote! (Comment/ vote) and tell us how we did. Is it yay, nay? Do you want to throw shoes at us? Do you intend to love us forever? Tell us!
P.S. Do you see that hunkadunk on the side there? He is my new crush! (doesn't mean Julian's my hubbie that I can't appreciate other hotties XD )
~Ari
We finally put it up after a lot of Google's (constant) PMSing -- so yay! I really hope you like this chapter since Ari and I bent over backwards trying to write it -- and I wish I were kidding.
We will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible -- or as soon as Ari stops hyperventilating (peace!)
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- Chompy