Step-Lover (12 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Vodka orange!” I yell over the music.

I’m pumped. Melanie, Peyton and I have been dancing like maniacs for the past two hours. I won’t lie, dancing with Peyton is somewhat awkward, but it isn’t her fault Blade is a dick. Now we’re having a drink stop.

“Make that two,” Melanie yells to the bartender.

She then turns to me with sweat trickling down her brow. “So, talk, how are you feeling?”

“Drunk.” I laugh.

She gives me a look and I sigh. “I’ve moved on, Mel. It’s fine.”

“Didn’t look like that. To me it looked like your heart ripped out all over again.”

I shrug. “Shit happens. I’m coping and that’s all that matters, right?”

“Right,” she says, dragging that word out. “’Cause it’s not awkward bonding with Peyton.”

I snort. “You’re right about that.”

“Ladies.”

We both spin around to see Blade leaning over the bar. He flashes us both a killer smile and my knees threaten to go out from beneath me. Melanie leans in, “I’m going to dance. Bring my drink.”

Then she rushes back out to the dance floor. Horrible, horrible friend.

“Nice dress.”

I ignore Blade. I have nothing to say to him.

“Not even going to talk to me?”

The bartender slides me the drinks and I take mine, sipping it.

“Come on, Aria. Seriously?”

I turn and glare at him. “You did it again; you fucked me and left me. Then you chose not to speak to me for an entire fucking year. So, yeah, seriously.”

He frowns. “Thought leaving it would help you get over it.”

I laugh bitterly. “Gosh you’re arrogant. Don’t flatter yourself. In case you didn’t notice, I moved on.”

He snorts. “What? To the dude who is so fuckin’ prissy I want to take his head and rub it in the dirt just to rough him up a bit?”

“Watch it,” I growl. “At least I’m not dating fantastic plastic over there.”

He leans in close. “You watch it.”

“Or what,
Brother
?”

His mouth goes tight. “You’re walking a fine fuckin’ line. You have the shits? Fine, but watch what you’re sayin’ about Peyton. Regardless of what you think, she’s a good chick.”

“Oh, I’m sure she is.”

His eyes study my face, then drops his gaze to my lips. “You still make me want to kiss the fuckin’ sass out of you, though.”

“Get lost,” I snap, turning and slipping back onto the dance floor.

I do this so he won’t see the way my cheeks are burning. I can’t believe he’s back, and I certainly can’t believe I’m not going to be able to escape him. I find Melanie and hand her a drink, then we start dancing again. Blade makes his way onto the dance floor and hooks his arm around Peyton’s waist. Then the two practically dry-hump in front of everyone.

“There you are.”

I jerk as arms slide around my waist. Yates.
Yes, your boyfriend Yates.
I turn to him with a smile and slip my arms up around his waist. I can dry-hump as good as any of them. I start grinding against Yates, whose face turns red. God. He hates when I get affectionate in public and by the way his face is now pinching, it looks as if he’s going to throw me off.

Prissy is about right.

God, what am I doing?

“Dance with me,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Do you have to be so provocative?”

I snort loudly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Leave something to the imagination.”

I shake my head and turn away from him, then I begin dancing with another guy standing next to me. He doesn’t touch me, but our bodies come close. Before I get the chance to even get his name, Yates swings me around and drags me off the dance floor. He sweeps me past my brothers, and I don’t miss Brody’s tight jaw. When we get outside, he turns to me.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing,” I cry. “I just want to have fun.”

He shakes his head. “This is so unlike you. You’ve been off since the moment you came to my front door. Why?”

I’m not doing this.

“I just want to fucking dance,” I yell. “If you pulled that stick out of your fucking ass you might be able to see that it would be fun.”

His face goes slack. “Excuse me?”

“Jesus, Yates, I’m your girlfriend. I get it at school, but we’re at a club. Would it kill you to touch me?”

He crosses his arms. “I touch you plenty at home.”

I huff. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to stand here while you have a tantrum. We’re going.”

“No, we’re fucking not.”

He leans in close, taking my arm. “Enough, Aria. You’re clearly drunk and I won’t have you embarrassing me by acting like a . . .”

“Like a what?” I snarl.

“A loose-mouthed woman.”

In other words, a loose-legged tramp.

“Go to hell.”

“We’re leaving.”

“No.”

He takes my arm and pulls me to the curb. “We are.”

“No.” I snatch my arm out of his. “We’re not.”

“Yates!”

He swings his head around to see a group of people from school coming towards us. Great. Just what we need. Yates straightens and flashes a smile. “Hi guys, fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Aria.”

I wave lamely.

Two guys step forward, and they’re prissier than my boyfriend here. Both are wearing their fucking white shirts tucked in. To a club. Yeesh. I look up to the sky.
Someone stab me in the eye, it’ll be nicer.

“Didn’t know you guys were out and about tonight,” Yates says, making light conversation. He hasn’t let my arm go, though.

“No it was last minute.”

“Everything okay here?”

I turn to see everyone from our group now standing outside, including Blade and Peyton.

“Ah, can I borrow someone’s car to take Aria home?” Yates asks.

“Can’t help you, man,” Brody says. “We’re going to my place.”

“Great, I’ll go there,” I say, tugging my arm.

“No,” Yates says, with a fake smile plastered to his lips. “We’re going to talk.”

Pfft.

“Everything okay?” Brody asks.

I stare at him, and then my eyes go to Blade who is shooting daggers at Yates. If I say no, they’re going to pummel my boyfriend into the ground, and I don’t need that right now. So with a sigh, I say, “I’m fine. I’m going to go with Yates.”

Melanie eyes me, but I avoid her expression.

“You can take her home in my car,” one of the med students says. “Just bring it back when you’re done and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Yates smiles at him. “Thanks Peter.”

Peter, right.

Peter throws his keys to Yates and we say our goodbyes, me avoiding eye contact with anyone. When we get into Peter’s small sedan, Yates turns to me. “You made a fool of me back there.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t do anything. I agreed to come with you. What more do you want?”

“The tension was so thick I’m sure they all knew we were fighting. They probably heard us.”

“And?” I snap. “Couples fight, Yates. Get over it.”

He starts the car and pulls out. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but it’s pissing me off.”

“Ohhh, big word,” I mutter.

He speeds up, his hands tight around the wheel.

“What the hell is your problem?” he yells, shocking me.

“You’re my problem,” I snarl. “You refuse to acknowledge me as your girlfriend in public and I have had enough. Is it so fucking bad to kiss me?”

“I have a reputation to uphold; I like to keep our personal life personal. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to strip you down and screw you on the dance floor.”

“Plenty of other people would be happy to.”

He plants his foot, yelling, “I’ve had enough. I can’t stand the way you’re behaving right now.”

He’s going fast. Really fast.

My heart leaps up into my throat and I try to stammer at him to stop, but no words form. Flashes of my sister’s lifeless eyes flicker through my memory and vomit rises in my throat. Fear courses through my veins and I can do nothing to stop it. I can do nothing to stop him. Everything inside me is frozen.

“I’m so tired of fighting with you,” he bellows, going faster. “So tired of listening to you complain.”

Oh God. I can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating. My skin is clammy and it feels as though a thousand tiny beetles are crawling over it.

“S-s-s-s-s . . .” I try but nothing comes out.

“I thought you were different to the rest,” Yates yells. “But you’re not. I mean, look at your dress. It’s no wonder those men couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

Help.

I clutch the door handle. Why can’t I speak? Flash after flash of memory torments my mind.

He turns to me. “I deserve better!”

Suddenly, we’re swerving. I scream, finally, and my hands flatten out against the window as Yates corrects us. He’s panting now, and cursing under his breath. He took us onto the other side of the road in his rant, and we nearly hit another car. The blaring sound of its horn is still ringing in my ear.

“Stop,” I screech suddenly.

He turns to me. “It’s fine, we’re safe.”

“Stop, god dammit!”

“I’m on the highway,” he yells. “I can’t stop.”

“Stop!”

I scream this so loudly he slams his foot on the brake. The moment the car stops, I scramble out. My legs are like jelly as I find the nearest tree and lean over, throwing up into the dirt. I feel as if I’m dying. So much panic is constricting my chest I can hardly breathe. I can’t control my breathing or get myself together. Tears are soaking my cheeks and I’m shaking.

I drop my purse to the ground and it takes me three attempts to pull out my phone and dial.

“You home safe?” Brody says after a few rings.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Aria?”

“Brody,” I gasp. “Please come get me.”

“I’ll take you home, Aria,” Yates yells, striding over. “Stop this nonsense.”

“Where are you?” Brody demands.

“H-h-h-h-highway. Brody.” I sob hysterically. “He nearly drove into another car.”

“Fuck. Hang on, honey.”

Brody hangs up and I lean against the tree for support. I can’t control myself, can’t pick myself up and pull myself together. I’m terrified. I feel sick. I can’t stop my hands shaking. I can’t force the image of my sister’s face from my mind. I start crying harder and Yates finally stops yelling at me.

“It was a split second,” he says, softer now. “I wouldn’t have crashed. Jesus, Aria.”

He doesn’t know.

I’ve never told him.

“Aria,” he says again, trying to touch me.

“Don’t,” I scream and he jerks his hand back.

“What’s wrong with you? It was a small mistake. There’s no need for this kind of tantrum.”

Tantrum?

He’s kidding, right?

If I wasn’t hyperventilating on the side of a highway, I’d slap him.

He doesn’t touch me again, but he does continually tell me to get up. Then he grumbles under his breath when I don’t. About ten minutes later, the sounds of a car skidding to a stop makes me lift my head. Before I can even push to my feet, Blade swings out of the car, and I mean literally swings. He charges towards Yates at full throttle and hits him so hard Yates’ feet actually lift off the ground as he falls backwards.

“You piece of shit!” Blade roars, skidding to a stop over him and leaning down, lifting him by the shirt and forcing him to his feet.

“I didn’t,” Yates splutters, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Driving recklessly with her in the car? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He hits him again. This time Yates’ nose splits, and blood comes spurting out. Peyton launches from the car, and so does Brody and Ripley. They all charge towards Blade. Melanie climbs out after them and rushes towards me. She wraps her arms around my body, pulling me close. Brody pulls Blade off Yates and Ripley shoves Yates back.

“Her fuckin’ family were killed in a car accident, you dickhead,” Ripley snaps.

Yates’ face pales. “I didn’t . . . know.”

“Think that matters?” Brody barks. “You don’t drive like that with anyone in the car.”

“She was . . . we were fighting . . .”

“No excuse!” Blade roars.

Yates’ face is now covered in blood and his eyes dart to me. I’m still shaking so violently my teeth are chattering. “I didn’t know.”

I’d say something, but I can’t open my mouth.

“Get out of here, before I fuck your face up even more,” Blade barks.

Yates turns and rushes to the car, getting in and speeding off. Then everyone turns towards me. It’s Blade who strides over, pushing Melanie’s arms off me. He leans down and scoops me up. “Up we go, darlin’.”