tw//sexual abuse
Harley
"So you're not gonna hook up with some girl tonight, are you?" asked my best friend, Wyatt.
"No, you have my undivided attention," I replied.
"Good."
We watched the scene of the whole party from a corner, leaning against a wall, cups of whiskey in our hands.
Brandon had invited a few of us over but the whole popular clique had crashed it.
I ran my eyes over their group, huddled together at one area of the room, dancing and laughing.
If I remember correctly, only Helen Johnson and a few others were invited. Of course, once they arrived, the whole fucking school followed.
Now, Brandon's humble abode was brimming with overrated, loud pop music, alcohol, a whole bunch of horny teenagers at every nook and corner, and sweat-- buckets of it.
My eyes shifted over to Samantha Winston, the most popular girl at Blue Valley High.
She was in this tight, body-hugging dress that lasted till her mid-thighs. It was the colour of wine. Her long, brown hair was tied up in a tight ponytail and she had dark red lipstick on. The sexy black heels she had on added to the look. She was laughing and talking with Jared Goldman and Shannon Lewis on the couch.
I raised an eyebrow at the fact that, for a second, I actually found her hot, as in, worth-dating level hot.
What the fuck.
I must have had too much to drink.
"Yo, you wanna fuck her or something?"
I was taken aback for a second, as I woke up from the weird trance I was in.
"W-What?"
"Samantha. You like her?"
"Hell no."
Wyatt stared at me for a bit.
"I thought so, too. That was, until I watched you practically devour her with your eyes for the past five minutes."
"Shut up, I didn't do that."
"Yes, you did. Don't fucking deny it."
"Are you fucking kidding me? I hate her, Wyatt."
He shrugged at that, ever so nonchalantly.
"Never really understood why. She's actually pretty nice."
"She acts like her stupid smile can fix everything in the world. She acts so entitled all the time, it's unreal. The whole school worships her like she's a Greek Goddess, for some deranged reason. She smiles at me like a fucking creep everytime she sees me."
"Ever thought that she's just trying to be friendly?" he deadpanned.
"No, she looks creepy when she does that. Like, she has this look in her eyes."
"Maybe she likes you."
"Nah, fuck that, she's dead straight."
"Okay, so she wants to be friends."
"Talk to me if you wanna be friends with me. Jesus Christ."
He shook his head at me and smiled at that.
"Why are you getting so worked up over this? We're just talking."
"No, we're not just talking. You're coming up with absurd ideas and I think you have officially gone insane!"
He tentatively took a sip of whiskey and muttered, "Alright." He did it in that condescending tone of his that I hated with a burning passion.
"All I'm saying is that y'all would make a hot couple."
"Ugh," I replied, acting out a gag reflex.
He laughed at that. I laughed along after a while.
It was past midnight in no time and the both of us were on the couch, trying to find something fun to do after a few hours of dancing, beer pong and more drinking. We even did a bit of karaoke. Well, mostly he did. I hate karaoke. Or singing, in general.
I was honestly doing fine but Wyatt looked like he was about to pass out.
He looked over at me with much effort and slurred, "H-how're you s-still. . . . so-sob-sobrie-so-sober?"
"It's a gift, babe. My tolerance is sky high."
"I-I can s-see t-that."
"Okay, maybe I should help you get home, buddy. We've done everything we can here."
"N-no. . ."
"The fuck do you mean no? Look at yourself! I can't carry your fat ass home if you pass out. Your Mom will start to worry and then I'll have a hundred messages on my phone. She always calls me!"
"N-no. I mean, K-kenzie is o-on h-her way. Y-you c-can s-s-stay."
McKenzie or Kenzie is his sixteen year old sister.
"Oh, alright. That's good. So that's why I haven't seen any messages!"
He smiled weakly at me.
"Let me get you some water then, big boy?"
"Y-yeah. T-thanks, H-Haryel."
"It's Harley, and you're welcome."
I ran my hand through his rough, messy blonde hair and ruffled it up before getting up off the couch and going on a pursuit for some water in an alcohol-dependant community of partying teenagers.
I pushed past teenagers dancing, twerking, screaming, drinking and making out. The music was so loud, I could feel it vibrating through my speedily beating heart. Finally, I was pushed into the comparatively empty kitchen by the noisy crowd in the living room.
I tried to scan the room for any trace of an unopened water bottle, or a fridge, for that matter. But I didn't get far because my eyes latched onto a scene at the corner. It was a guy in a baseball cap, pretty big and muscular, visibly forcing himself on some girl.
I peered over his shoulder and my eyes widened at the sight before it was registered in my mind.
Samantha Winston. With a bleeding cut across her left temple. She was crying, or at least it looked liked it from the distance I was at. Her hair was messy now, though still in a ponytail. I could see that her dress was torn at the shoulder, scars peeking out.
For a moment, I froze. I could hear my own heart beat loud and clear and feel the blood rush to my head. But then I could feel my legs move and I felt myself come back to my senses.
I kicked the guy from the side and he stumbled and fell onto the tiled kitchen floor. A few people noticed, but for the most part, everybody was too drunk to care.
I caught a glimpse of the shocked and terrified expression on Samantha's face before I stood protectively in front of her.
He quickly scrambled to his feet and loomed over me. I was barely affected. I gave him a bored look.
"And who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?"
"Your worst fucking nightmare."
"Oh, really? We'll see about that. . ."
He tried to attack me, arms up. I was too angry and, well, drunk and tired to fight the guy. I kneed him in the nuts and watched him fall. I kicked him a bunch of times so he won't move for at least a minute and then grabbed Samantha's extremely soft hand.
People had started noticing the scene by now but I ignored them. I pulled Samantha away from the kitchen. I looked back at her and saw that she was. . . well, broken is a good word.
I sighed and motioned for her to follow me upstairs. She quietly did.
I pulled her into Brandon's room, which was empty and clean, for the most part. He had a heap of books and video games strewn across the floor like garbage but that was okay.
I shut the door behind Samantha. She started crying more fully immediately after I locked it. I'm usually very awkward when people cry because I never have any idea what to do or say. But something told me this girl needed a hug.
"C-can I hug you?" I asked.
She nodded.
I hesitated, but then I cautiously moved towards her. I place an arm around her shoulders and then pulled her against me. She let out a little gasp.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Slowly, she wrapped her own toned arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. She was still crying, with small and silent jerks of her body.
"Shhh. . ." I whispered against her ear. "It's okay."
She let out a little moan and just held me closer against herself.
I could feel the warmth of her body and the warmth from my own mixing and mingling. I could feel her chest against mine. I let out a shaky breath as she placed a hand on the nape of my neck and began moving her thumb slowly against the skin there. The motion sent shivers down my spine. I breathed in her signature strawberry perfume.
We stayed in that position for a few minutes before she pulled away.
She looked up at me, right into my eyes. I focused on the bright green and blue that kept mixing in and out throughout her irises.
"T-thank you. You didn't have to do any of that, but you did. Thank you."
Holy shit, her voice is so fucking beautiful and soft.
"Are you kidding? Of course I had to."
She smiled slightly at that. For a few seconds we just stared at each other. I felt my heartrate grow faster for some reason.
"Has that guy bothered you before?"
She looked down at the floor and nervously chewed on her bottom lip. I took in her movements carefully. The room was dead quiet, punctuated by the distant sounds of music and screaming. My eyes moved over to the torn sleeve of her dress and something tore inside of me. There was an urge in me to kiss them away. To kiss her. To feel her beautiful lips against mine.
Harley, what is it with you? You don't like her. You helped her out because you couldn't possibly turn your back on her in that situation. Leave. Now.
"W-well, um. That's not the first guy. I've had guys try that sort of thing at other times."
I guess I looked horrified because she immediately rushed to correct herself, eyes widened.
"My friends are usually always there to help me out. Tonight was just an exception."
"R-right."
There was a momentary silence.
"I thought you hated me, Harley."
She said that as she looked down at the floor and I gulped.
"Um, I. . . may not have had the best of impressions about you."
Well, that's about as straightforward as it gets.
She smirked. "You don't say."
I smirked to myself.
"Weren't you here with Wyatt? Where is he?"
Oh, crap. The water.
I whipped out my phone and saw that Kenzie had texted me.
Kenzie: The next time, at least get my bro some basic things when he's drunk. Like water. Ik he can be a pain in the ass and all but... just sayin.
Kenzie: Love ya tho.
I smiled to myself and tucked the phone away in my jean pocket.
"He came with me. The guy has low tolerance, got drunk out of his fucking mind. His sister took him home."
She chuckled at this. Her laugh was also sweet. Her smile lit up her entire face. I decided that seeing it is a blessing in itself. And seeing her cry is heart breaking.
Harley, what the fuck? What happened to you in, like, half an hour?
"I have to leave myself. But I think my friends left, along with my ride," she said softly.
"I'll walk you home," I chimed in without thinking.
"Oh, that's okay, you've done enough for me tonight."
"No, I insist."
Harley, shut the fuck up.
She smiled more. I easily smile back.
How the fuck?
We walked out of the room, away from the party, out onto the pretty much empty streets, lined by parked cars and houses with lights seen from the outside. A lot of them were however fully dark, owing to the fact that it's way past midnight and they're all asleep. I could feel the music get lighter and lighter as we gathered distance.
As we walked down the street together, I focused on the sound of our footsteps against the rough road, reflected and clearly defined by the emptiness of the night.
I saw that she was cold and shivering. I removed my jacket and offered it to her, which she gladly took. I like the cold, anyway.
I knew her house was situated in the richer part of the neighbourhood, which was only a few blocks away.
For the most part, we said nothing to each other. We were simply basking in companiable silence till we reached her mansion.
The lights were out and the street was particularly not well illuminated by street lights. We made our way through the large front yard and onto the verandah.
She began pulling down the zip of the jacket but I stopped her.
"Keep it," I said. I couldn't bear to see the torn sleeve or the scars on the arm anymore.
"Really?" She actually looked surprised.
"Yeah, really."
I couldn't help but smile as I said that.
She smiled back.
"Good night, Harley. And thank you."
I nodded, lips pursed into a thin line.
"Good night, Samantha."
"Please, call me Sam."
"Alright. Good night, Sam."
She smiled, made her way in and shut the door behind her. I walked back to my home where my mother was already fast asleep.
As for me, I laid awake, mind consumed by thoughts about a certain someone's unavoidably attractive blue-green eyes.
***
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queenred