Bully Romance Box Set: The Complete Collection Books 1-2

By Joanna Mazurkiewicz

I start hating Oliver just after his older brother Christian's death. I drag him down a road of humiliation and pain to try to cope with what his brother did to me.
A few months after Christian's passing, Oliver leaves town, and for the next two years, he is absent from my life. The demons claw their way back in, and I must learn to live with the secret that has destroyed me.
Now I'm starting a new life, away from Gargle and away from my past, but everything crashes when I see Oliver the first day at university. It's clear that many things have changed since we've been apart. Now he is captain of the rugby team and the most popular bloke on campus.
Then he makes a bet and gives me an ultimatum: I leave Braxton forever and start somewhere else, or I stay and play his game… because he's never forgotten that it was me who ruined his life two years ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanna Mazurkiewicz
• Release date: Oct 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393106739

Book preview

Chapter 1

Him

Present

"W e’re here ." Dora slams on the brake pedal unexpectedly. The baggage on top of the backseat falls over, smacking me on the back of the head. I curse silently, hoping that Dora can’t hear me. She knows I don’t use that kind of language anymore.

That’s great, I mutter, massaging my skull. Dora beams, staring at me from the driver’s side. I chose to sit in the back, hoping to catch up on some sleep, but my plan failed because Dora blasted music at full volume when we left Gargle—our hometown.

"Oh, my God, India, this is so exciting. We’re finally here, she goes on, her high-pitched voice ringing in my ears. Look at these buildings. Can you imagine what—"

We get out of the car while she continues to talk. I know I should be listening, but I can’t seem to focus today, and her monologue about all the wild parties is always the same. An odd sensation brushes over me, and I start to wonder why I’m not excited like Dora. We’ve been counting down the days to come to Braxton, and now I feel like I need to turn back. Maybe I’m not meant to go anywhere else but Gargle.

I take a few deep breaths and stretch my neck. I’ve always wanted to study at Braxton University. My mother and grandmother went here. Dora’s always wanted to live on her own; she’s been talking about this ever since she was accepted.

Me, though, I just couldn’t wait to get away from my toxic past.

Dora’s my best friend, but I’m not sure if I made the right decision to drag her here with me this time around. Her parents are wealthy, she could go anywhere she wanted in England, but in the end, she followed me.

Maybe she decided to come to Braxton because we’ve always done everything together. We aren’t at all similar, but we’ve known each other for years and it’s just easy that way. Dora might be a distraction from all the important stuff I planned to do this year. She wants to party and carry on with the life she had in Gargle. Me? I want to distance myself from the past and concentrate on things that matter.

I walk around the car and begin pulling my bags from the boot. The sun is blazing in the sky, burning the nape of my neck. In a few weeks it’ll get cold; it’s surprising that the weather is still nice in late September. But I feel an odd tension in the air, as if this peaceful day is going to be ruined by a thunderstorm. I notice heavy dark clouds starting to gather in the south.

Come on, India, let’s move. Dora’s voice brings me back to reality. I want to check out the campus before it gets dark.

"All right, chill out. These bags are heavy."

Oh, sorry, Miss Sensitive. She frowns. Why are you in such a bad mood today?

I’m fine, just tired. Cut it out.

She waves her hand and starts walking. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I was up late last night thinking about Christian, and each time I do that, the next day I’m never the same.

We left Gargle in the early afternoon. Mum insisted on packing tons of food for us. She still thinks we won’t be able to cook a proper meal for ourselves, and we’ll be living on beans on toast. My little sister, Josephine, kept asking if she could come and visit me soon. She wants to see Braxton for herself. She’s only fourteen, but she’s already heard stories about university life, and she can’t wait to taste freedom for herself.

I grab my bags and start following Dora. She’s walking towards the block of student apartments, her brown hair flowing freely around her shoulders. I don’t know why, but my stomach makes a funny jolt when I see the buildings stretching in front of us.

We cross the path and walk towards the entrance. I switch my bag to my other shoulder, as my arm starts to ache, and drag my main suitcase behind me. We notice a group of students playing rugby on the lawn. Dora’s already toying with her hair, pretending to be struggling with her luggage, probably hoping one of those blokes will give her a hand. I roll my eyes, ignoring her fake moans, and move ahead. For a moment, I feel someone’s eyes on me, so I stop and turn around.

One of the guy’s stare directly at me. He squeezes his eyes shut, and what feels like fire spreads down my spine. He appears familiar, but I shake my head—I don’t know anyone in Braxton, and the sudden blaze of heat is only my imagination. Dora manages to get the attention of one of the guys, and they start chatting away. This is just so typical of her.

Pass the ball, Jacob, someone shouts behind me. But I ignore the voice, even though it sounds so familiar, and it’s heating up the blood running through my body.

Suddenly, something hits me hard on the back of the head. I let go of a loud "Owww!" and swiftly turn around. I spot the rugby ball on the grass and reach up to massage my head. I narrow my eyes, spotting the same guy who was staring at me a few seconds ago. He’s standing there, smirking.

What’s your problem? I clench my jaw in anger.

He doesn’t seem the least bit sorry that he just hit me with a freaking ball. He’s tall and muscular, his dark hair cut close to his scalp. For some reason, the Special Forces haircut suits him. He’s too far ahead so I can’t see the colour of his eyes, but his gaze is pulling me to him like a magnet. Jeans hang low on his hips, and his white T-shirt is dirty, likely from rolling on the grass. I glance back at his friends, who stare at me, startled. Something isn’t right here—he obviously meant to hit me on purpose.

"Well, who have we got here? It’s the one and only, India Gretel." He says my name loudly, like he wants to make sure everyone can hear him.

Do I know you? I impatiently eye him from head to toe. A large whacky grin appears on his handsome face. Something in his eyes tell me we’ve already met. His gaze hardens on me as he picks up the ball and closes the distance between us. It’s then that I see his wide jaw and full beautiful lips.

Don’t fucking tell me you forgot about me already, Indi? He smirks again. Boys, let me introduce you to the biggest bitch to ever step foot in Braxton.

I blink rapidly, staring at him, digging through my memories—anything that can tell me if I’ve seen him before, but I’ve got nothing.

"Oliver, who the hell is that?" one of his mates asks as he walks towards him.

Dora notices my little show because she approaches me, appearing equally confused. "India, who’s that douchebag?" She hikes her thumb towards him, frowning.

Oliver. That name rolls through my head like a snooker ball. It curls my toes and increases my heartbeat. It’s like a poison that crawls into my pores and wrecks my body. His name brings about both good and bad within me. It’s the name I’ve been trying to forget for the past two years.

I stare at him as if he isn’t really there, as if I’m hallucinating. My heart starts pounding, sending a signal to my brain to start running when he approaches me.

It’s not him—it can’t be.

I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are. I manage, but my voice easily gives away my lie. The memories whirl back to me like a storm. The colour of his eyes—they’re the same. They’re his eyes—I could never forget them. Deep blue, staring straight through me, touching my pain, the pain his brother caused so many times. I break eye contact quickly enough and turn around but have trouble breathing.

I don’t know what’s made you so dumb, but whatever it is—it’s working, he shouts, and his friends laugh.

Hold on, India, is that—

"Dora, I didn’t know you were still friends with that witch?"

Another insult that hurts even more than the first one. I can feel as the blood drains from my face, and my body goes rigid. I try to count to ten and control myself, but guilt pours into my stomach like hot lava.

Dora recognises him straightaway. Oh, my God, Oliver—is that really you? She chuckles. You’ve changed.

I glance back at her, trying to give her a sign to move along, but she’s standing there still staring at him.

He continues to humiliate me. "Do tell my friends here all about yourself, Indi. We all enjoy good horror stories."

"Dora, let’s go," I snap, even though I feel too numb to move. I clench my teeth and drag my feet forward, ignoring my skyrocketing pulse.

Oliver, you look hot, Dora singsongs flirtatiously. See you around.

She hurries after me. My stomach goes through a series of contractions as we walk through the building. My heart is pounding like it’s about to explode. I need to take a deep breath and forget I saw him. He was never supposed to go to Braxton. He isn’t here—it’s just my imagination. I wish I could change the past, but the tiny voice in my head tells me I brought this on myself.

Past

Do you want to stay a bit longer, honey? Mum touched my hand gently as if I were made of glass. We were alone; many people had already left. Mum was waiting to take me home, but I couldn’t move, watching the pallbearers. They were lowering Christian’s coffin into the ground, their faces stone cold. Soon, no one was going to remember him and the things that he’d done. Soon, he was going to be forgotten.

Heavy, grey clouds hung over our heads. I stared at the same spot for several minutes, seeing the demons of darkness and death. They approached me, crawling along my back, and burrowing long needles through my heart.

Yes. I didn’t recognise my own voice—it sounded empty. Christian’s mother had asked me to sit with her in the front row. People were talking to me, but everything was like a blur. People came, then left, but I was still there, hurting.

Mum didn’t say anymore. She got up and left me alone with my own nightmare—maybe because it was easier that way. I stared as the coffin disappeared into the ground, and I was glad that he was dead. A few days had passed since the party at Christian’s home. I still hadn’t told anyone about what happened. When he dropped me home, I’d gone straight to my bedroom and cried. Christian had been an ideal teenager, but a few weeks before his death, he’d turned into a psychopath. He’d known throughout the years that I didn’t feel the same way about him, that I only wanted friendship, but he kept this knowledge under control until the party—then he lost it. He was devious, making sure no one noticed anything.

My mother had knocked on my door around midnight. For several minutes she was silent, then she gave me the news. Christian had been in a car accident and died in the hospital. Then she hugged me and told me to let it all go. I sobbed, feeling sorrow along with an incredible relief slowly filling me up. Part of me wanted him dead, the other part still cared for him.

My wish had come true only a few hours after he’d hurt me.

Then at the funeral, I was standing there, happy that he was out of my life for good. I had no idea how to deal with the pain he’d caused and those cruel, devastating memories. He’d destroyed me—then he just… disappeared.

Christian was gone. He’d taken the vicious and sadistic part of him to the grave, but he left me with emotional scars and a nightmare I would never forget.

India.

It was Oliver. I hadn’t even noticed when he approached me, but I recognised his voice straightaway. He stood beside me for a moment, and my anger and agitation grew.

I turned to face him. What do you want, Oliver?

His long dark hair hung over his shoulders, wearing a long black Goth coat, eyes peering at me from beneath long black eyelashes. He then placed his hand on my arm. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.

I clenched my fists, and my body tensed. Pure rage began coursing through me. Oliver was the one who was supposed to be at that party. If he had shown up like he’d promised, I would never have had to go through that nightmare. It was all his fault.

"He’s gone, Oliver, I shouted. You don’t need to check on me. You don’t have to be around me anymore." My heart was pounding, but I felt so much better as soon as those words left my mouth.

Come on, India, I know you’re hurting, but he was my brother and I’ll miss him, too. He moved closer, and I couldn’t take it.

I pulled away and abruptly began stomping in the opposite direction. Then, I rounded on him to say a few more things. "I hate you, Oliver. I hate your fucking guts. Just stay away from me. I don’t want you anywhere near me."

He stood there staring at me as if I were speaking a different language. His eyes darkened and he turned away. I felt better pushing him away. Fighting with him and hurting him was like therapy. It felt like some sort of release—something I couldn’t do to his brother—because he was dead. Sick and twisted, maybe? But I didn’t know what to do with all the anger built up within me. And Oliver was just a reminder… a reminder of everything…

Indi, I don’t get it—

"You don’t need to get anything, Oliver. I swear I’ll make your life difficult if you don’t stay away. I mean it. Christian is dead and we’re done."

I turned and walked away, leaving him next to his dead brother. Before the party, I would have thrown myself into his arms and told him we needed to be strong now—together. But that was then. Now, I was shattered… my soul left in tattered pieces.

Chapter 2

Back to square one.

Present

C an you believe it was him—Oliver, of all people? Dora asks for the fourth time as she paces around the room.

I try to take a long deep breath, hoping the nausea will pass, but I feel like I’m going to throw up at any second. My heart is still pounding, pumping way too much blood to my head. In a matter of seconds, the past is crushing me, and Christian’s body is lying next to me. Everything is falling apart.

No, I can’t, I reply with an uneasy tone. What the hell is he even doing here? He’s supposed to be in Edinburgh.

She stares at me, tossing her brown hair behind her. Dora’s a beautiful girl with brown eyes and long thick eyelashes. She’s short, only five foot four, a petite woman with a sharp tongue. She doesn’t let anyone walk all over her or treat her like a doormat.

That’s what we heard, but he obviously didn’t go to Scotland, she mutters. "He looks so hot. And did you see how muscular he is now? I never knew he worked out."

The panic passes through my body. That wasn’t the Oliver I used to know. The one from the past was an unpopular, nerdy teenager who everyone used to make fun of. He always stood in the shadow of his brother. Today I met a whole new Oliver—strong, gorgeous, and confident. And Oliver remembers—he never forgot how I used to bully him.

I guess he looks better, I mumble, trying to take my mind off the man outside our building. Only a few minutes ago we got the keys to our apartment, but Dora doesn’t seem to care. She wants to know everything about the new, gorgeous Oliver and the transformation he’s gone through.

She flops on the sofa, staring at me with her mouth wide open. "Are you blind, India? Can you not see how much he’s changed? He’s so much handsomer than Christian. Besides, our group in high school gave him a hard time. I always wondered—why did you hate him so much?"

It was never about hating him. He just annoyed me. I wave my hand, although we both know what I’m saying is a lie. She’s right. I hated him because he wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most.

Bullshit, India. It all started after Christian— She goes silent, not finishing her sentence, the one that always makes me mad. She knows I don’t react well when she mentions Oliver’s brother.

After the accident. My voice is quiet then. The uncomfortable silence flows between us. I’ve forbidden her from talking about him. When people remind me of him, I become a different person: cruel and defensive. No one knows what happened, even Dora. She thinks I changed because I lost him.

Yeah, after that. She scratches her head. I don’t like this new you. The old India was more fun.

I don’t respond, pretending to look around our new apartment. I have no intention of talking about my past for the rest of the day. Oliver’s in Braxton, and I need to try to deal with it the best I can. Dora needs to understand that the old India is gone, and she’s never coming back.

Dora starts talking about something else, and I’m glad that she ditches that uncomfortable subject. An hour later, she vanishes into her bedroom to start unpacking.

Dora’s mum and dad divorced when she was around ten, and since then, she’s been floating between both parents. I don’t think she ever got over the fact that her parents split up. Her father couldn’t see her often, so he made sure he gave her money to make up for the lost time. Back in high school, Dora had the best clothes and the latest technological gadgets that everyone else could only dream of. She never had to chase after guys. She was popular and never had a problem getting dates. We were close, but only two years ago, I found out she was suffering from depression and anxiety. She was occasionally seeing a psychologist. Apparently, it had something to do with the fact her dad wasn’t around.

We’ve been friends for years, but I’ve never seen her in any sort of distress. Maybe it’s because she ditched school quite a bit. When she was absent, she never returned any of her phone calls and her mother never let me in, saying Dora didn’t wish to see anyone.

Today I leave her alone. Then after a few hours, I gently knock on her door and enter. She’s sorting her clothes, muttering something about the shoes and the size of the wardrobe. She has to have everything sorted exactly the way she wants, which means she can’t stand a mess. Even her underwear drawer is folded alphabetically.

We kind of bonded in primary school when my father died. After that, it was only me, Mum, and my little sister, Josephine. My father had a heart attack, and his death nearly cost Mum her job. She didn’t leave her room for days. Then she started drinking. She never used to drink, but a few weeks after the funeral, she had to have several glasses of wine every evening. It wasn’t a good time in our lives, but we managed to get through it. After her boss told her she would lose her job, Mum finally stopped drowning her grief in alcohol. That day she changed, and we got her back.

When Dora finally emerges from her room, it’s early evening. I know all her clothes have been folded in the wardrobe by then. She’s sort of weird like that, sitting on her own for hours. Deep down, I know she’s going through some sort of emotional whiplash. I don’t disturb her. I let her take her time.

What are you wearing? She narrows her eyes and points at my outfit.

I look down at my old jeans and ugly T-shirt that’s more grey than yellow. Yes, I look like a tramp, but who cares? It’s only Dora and me.

Comfortable clothes. Why?

Because we’re going out for food. She wrinkles her nose at me and then stares at her reflection in the mirror.

I automatically cringe and consider staying in the apartment on my own. I’m not comfortable going out, knowing he’s out there.

I don’t want to go out, I protest. It’s our first night here.

That’s the point. We didn’t come here to sit around. We’re here to party, so get that sexy arse of yours to the bathroom. She smirks, pushing me towards my room.

I pull my caramel hair into a messy knot with one hand, tapping my fingers on the edge of the table with the other. Recently I’ve been doing this more often; this small ritual (or tick) kind of calms me down—until the memories of the party come flashing back to my consciousness.

I’m not bad looking; people have always told me I’m pretty. I have long wavy hair, that I straighten often, and green eyes. I’ve got very fair skin with a ton of freckles along the bridge of my nose and on my cheeks, which tend to be embarrassing when people point it out. My self-esteem used to be high, but now it’s like mushy peas. All because of Oliver’s brother, Christian.

I pull skinny jeans over my long legs and shrug on a low-cut top. I stopped using makeup two years ago, but tonight Dora wants me to be the old India, the one from high school. Ruthless and flirtatious, the kind of girl she expects me to be. I went through a transformation after Oliver left to go to University. He’s nearly two years older than me, and as soon as he graduated high school, he took an offer of a scholarship in Scotland and vanished from Gargle. I’d lost him, so I stopped being cruel, wild, and obnoxious towards others. He wasn’t around anymore, so I couldn’t pour out my frustration on anyone else anymore.

During that year, I quieted down and understood that I pushed him away, hurt him, and ruined his life. It was time for me to share my secret with him, but then it was too late, because he was already gone, and no one knew if he was going to come back.

Dora still likes to be the centre of attention, as she never received enough from her father. Her mum was always pleasant. She kept inviting me over so I could use their pool in the summer. They live in the better part of Gargle in a large house. Her mother works as a solicitor. Dora never had to worry about money. If she wanted something, she just got it.

I live on the outskirts of Gargle in a more modest location. After my father died, Mum had to handle the responsibility of looking after us alone. She never let us think we were poor, but she had to count every penny. I remember when my sister wanted to do gymnastics like her friends, but Mum couldn’t afford it. But my mum always made sure we were reasonably happy.

I think of all these silly memories, wondering if I’m ever going to be happy in Braxton. Oliver changed. He isn’t weak anymore, and I’m certain he still remembers how I treated him.

Dora smirks at me when I leave the bathroom; she obviously approves of the clothes I chose. Tonight she’s revealing her cleavage, wearing a mini skirt with her high-heeled boots. She knows how to use her assets. I made a promise to myself before I left. I don’t want to get involved with anyone. After Christian died, I went out with a few guys, slept with one of them, hoping to forget. That didn’t happen, and I went back to square one.

"C’mon, let’s see if we can find ourselves a guy this fine evening." She giggles, taking one last glance at herself in the mirror.

Looking like that, you probably will. I wink at her and finish styling my caramel-coloured hair. I can’t do anything about the freckles. I hate my fair complexion. I can’t even go outside without a high-factor sunscreen when it’s sunny because I burn so quickly.

Dora places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. I don’t understand, India. You’re hot, but you’re acting like no one can replace Christian. Just go out there and have fun like you did in high school.

I’m not interested in dating, Dora. This isn’t high school. I told you I’d have to work hard to keep up with all those nerds. Plus, I’ve got rowing training to think about.

Rowing? She laughs. Are you seriously considering doing that crap?

I hate that she’s so opinionated about everything. She has no idea what makes me happy. She likes to be in control, and if she loses that control, she locks herself up and pretends that everything is all right.

"It’s a sport, Dora, a sport that I like, so stop being so negative about everything."

She looks away, worrying her bottom lip. I’m not negative. You just need to chill out. You don’t seem to want to do anything these days.

Partying isn’t on my list of priorities anymore, Dora, so get used to it. Otherwise I’ll forget we’ve been friends for so long. I give her a playful shove. Now let’s go out. I’m starving.

Outside, Dora quickly forgets about our tense conversation and keeps cracking jokes about Oliver. The evening is warm, the breeze ruffling my hair. Hopefully, it’ll stay like that for the rowing trials. The campus is full of students enjoying Freshers’ Week, and, subconsciously, I know we should join them. Today I’m starting my first year of university at the age of nineteen, and I suppose I need to have some fun, too.

Dora suggests we grab a quick takeout from the local shop.

While we’re eating, Dora chats away with a group of girls from Essex. Her father lives there and she thinks that she’s practically an Essex girl now. I’m amazed at her ability to make friends so quickly. They aren’t particularly bright, but Dora already has them wrapped around her pinkie finger, tossing a bunch of complements their way. It takes her a while to introduce me, but that’s just her and I’m used to it by now.

India, listen. Louise is telling me that there’s a party going on, like a ten minutes’ walk from here.

Dora, come on. I’m not in the mood, I complain, knowing I’ll be the one who’ll have to take her home. She doesn’t know her limit when it comes to alcohol.

It’s Fresher Week, and besides, we don’t have to wake up early tomorrow.

I shake my head, but Dora’s right. My Internet isn’t even hooked up yet, the TV is still in the car, and I left a lot of my DVDs at home. There’s nothing to do in the apartment.

Fine, let’s go then, I mutter and give her a half-smile.

She squeaks, jumping up and down, being silly.

The Essex girls are giggling. Shortly after that, I’m introduced to Louise and Nicole, who are studying nursing. They’re also freshers just like Dora and me. My friend talks about everything and anything assuming that her new company is willing to listen. She knows that I know everything about her, and I’ve already heard all of her unbelievable stories.

Ten minutes later, we walk through the alley, hearing the loud music coming from the semi-detached houses. A group of people are outside holding beer bottles, and one of the guy’s start puking. I think about that evening with Oliver, just before Christian died, and automatically tense. I tell myself it’s just another random party, that there’s nothing to worry about. I feel better—right until I step inside the house and notice him there.

Past

It was just after the funeral when I realised it was Oliver’s fault. He could’ve stopped Christian if he would’ve shown up like we had arranged earlier. After Christian’s death, I started pouring my hatred on people I cared about. I was popular in high school; everyone wanted to hang out with me. It took me two years to get on the cheerleading squad, and five to gain a scholarship. My mum used to laugh and tell me I was born under a lucky star. Although things appeared great on the outside, inside, I was rotten. My soul had been infected by Christian. He loved me, cherished me—and he destroyed me. The worst part was that he was dead, and I couldn’t get my revenge.

Dora, our posse, and I were walking through the corridor laughing about some lame joke Dora had told us. We had a small break between classes, and we were just about to get lunch, when I saw Oliver standing by the vending machine. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was staring at me.

When I looked at him, I remembered everything from that night at the party. His posture, his hands, and his long hair reminded me of Christian. Two guys from his year passed him and pushed him towards the wall. He didn’t react. He allowed people to get away with whatever they wanted by acting weak. We’d drifted apart after Christian’s death, after the funeral when I’d told him I didn’t want to be part of his life anymore.

He took the can of Coke from the machine and started walking towards the stairs.

"Hey, Ollie, is it true you couldn’t get it up with Marisa?" I didn’t know what had come over me then. It was like I’d become a different person. As soon as those words left my mouth, a warmth filled my stomach, and the pain eased. I’d found a new way of dealing with those unsettled emotions. After the funeral I’d decided to stay away from him, but right then, I felt so much better seeing him hurt. I wanted him to hurt…like I was hurting.

My girlfriends laughed, and Oliver froze on the spot. I was aware that there must have been around a dozen people in that corridor. That didn’t stop me—instead, it gave me a buzz to continue.

Cocksucker, Ryan shouted from behind me. I giggled, and the girls laughed with me. Oliver just stood there, staring at me with those empty eyes.

I always knew he was gay, Ryan’s mate yelled.

We all burst out laughing, while Oliver turned and walked away.

I was high for the rest of the day, high on hatred, and for the first time in months, I didn’t have nightmares.

Oliver hadn’t spoken to me since that day. Each time I looked at him, it was only to get rid of the memories, and I had to hurt him again.

So, I did until he left.

Chapter 3

Threat

Present

There’s no way to pretend I can’t see him. Oliver has his arms wrapped around a pretty blond girl. I try to look away, but I can’t deny I’m shocked to see him here. The girl has massive boobs that pop out of her tank top, like two swollen balloons. I dart my eyes away and wonder if I can get out of here before he notices me. His attention is on the girl for another second or so before he turns, staring at the exact spot where I’m standing right now. Panic whips through me, and I quickly look away, already knowing he’s aware I’m here.

I bite my lip, contemplating if running out is an option. Now I understand that horrible feeling in my gut that’s been bothering me all day. Somehow my mind projected that we could meet again, and here I am, afraid to even acknowledge his presence. I glance back at him, and from a distance, I notice a small smile pull at the corner of his lips. My heart skips a beat when he leans towards the girl and whispers something in her ear. Then they look at me.

I turn around in a panic to face Dora and her beautiful new companions. We need to leave…now, I stutter. I feel like he’s tearing my body to pieces from the inside out.

What? Dora stares at me, wide-eyed. We just got here.

Yeah, have a drink. Nicole hands me a plastic cup filled with something that looks like beer. Louise is already chatting with a tall dark-haired student.

Oliver’s here and he’s staring at us, I hiss, trying to push her outside, but she’s having none of it. She glances behind me, probably trying to bring his attention to me, but that’s the last thing I want. Dora’s ruining everything. My new plan that involves staying away from Oliver is now out the window.

She giggles. What are you talking about, India? He seems busy with blondie over there.

I turn around slowly and peer through my eyelashes. Oliver’s no longer staring. His arms are wrapped around the girl’s arse and he’s kissing her. My stomach drops and a wave—thick and heated with jealousy—sweeps through me like a waterfall. They aren’t kissing like a loving couple in the park afraid of being seen. Their kisses are hard, deep; I can picture their tongues swirling inside each other’s mouths. My brain is sending an alert to my body to stop looking, but I can’t. His mouth is taking control of hers, and he’s reaching deep down, pressing her against his body. People are staring. Someone whistles. I instantly see memories of Christian flashing through my mind.

I need a drink. I rush as far as I can, away from Oliver and his girlfriend.

Now you’re talking. Dora smiles, following me.

My stomach twists itself into knots when I think about that evening in the cinema when we shared our first kiss.

Past

It was a rainy Wednesday night when I went to Christian’s house excited to see a new James Bond film. Movies were my passion, and I couldn’t miss a premiere of a brand-new classic action film. I ran a blog where I posted all my reviews, and I had a decent number of followers. Christian never shared my enthusiasm for films. He had a short attention span, so he managed to sleep though most of the films we went to. He also didn’t like sitting in a dark room watching movies he could download at home. He knew I was obsessed, and he also knew I would go, with or without him.

Christian’s mother opened the door and let me inside. Her cheeks were rosy, and I noticed a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.

Come on in, India. You’re soaked right through, she said, passing me a towel. Getting wet was just part of the deal. I always used to purposely forget an umbrella. Mum caught me a few times when I was walking back from school in the rain. She used to get mad, shouting that if I got the flu, she would send me to school ill. I was kind of weird like that: I liked feeling rain on my bare skin.

Christian’s family lived in one of those large posh houses with fronted bay windows in the better part of Gargle. His father worked a lot—he was barely home—and his mother liked her drink, maybe a bit too much. She was slightly drunk when I walked through the door. Christian gave me a kiss, passing me his hoody. He was tall and well-built with long dark hair. He’d played rugby since he was in primary school.

Are you ready to go? I asked. The film starts in half an hour.

Yeah. Listen, do you mind if Oliver comes with us?

My heart started hammering in my chest when Christian mentioned his name. I felt someone’s eyes on me, so I turned around. Oliver was walking downstairs. His long black hair hung over his shoulders. He was wearing a leather jacket and black pants. He smiled, and all of a sudden heat embraced my body, sending a signal to my brain that I shouldn’t be here.

Yeah, sure, I replied in a small voice.

What are we going to see? Oliver asked, coming towards me.

A new Bond film. It’s got great reviews.

All right, children, let’s go. The sooner we get this over with, the better. Christian sent a wink to Oliver. I hated when Christian forced himself to be with me. He could just say that he didn’t want to watch the movie.

Have fun. His mother didn’t take her eyes off the TV as she called out to us.

We left the house and jumped into Christian’s Audi. I sat in the back and put my headphones on, hoping to chill out a little with my favourite music. The cinema was only around a ten-minute drive. I avoided the premiere days, as Christian always complained about crowds. The new film we were going to see had been out for two weeks, so we didn’t have to worry about an overcrowded screening.

Christian was in charge of drinks and snacks while Oliver and I went to take our seats. I was excited to see the movie. My formal boyfriend came back just before it started and sat next to me. Oliver was sitting on my right. For the first half hour I couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on the screen. Oliver’s arm kept brushing against mine. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it purposely or if he was just uncomfortable. My pulse was skyrocketing, and every time he touched me, a violent tremor passed through my whole body. I liked Christian. He was always a perfect gentleman; up to this time he’d never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t want to do. But I’d never felt that spark with him that I felt whenever Oliver was around. Christian and I were together physically, but mentally my heart belonged to someone else.

Halfway through the film, Christian was asleep. That was his routine, and it meant I could finally enjoy the movie.

Hey, Indi, Oliver whispered.

I swallowed hard, turning around slowly. I blinked twice, seeing his perfect blue eyes. His face was only a couple inches away from mine, and that terrified me, because my heart nearly stopped beating. The odd, unfamiliar sensation settled between my thighs.

Oliver was staring straight through me. He brushed his thumb along my face, and I shivered, wondering how far he would go. He’d never shown any interest in me, certainly never in front of Christian. He leaned towards me and his lips brushed against mine gently, as if he didn’t really mean to kiss me. I was levitating with desire that suddenly rolled throughout my entire body.

Then he stopped and sat back, breathing hard. I waited for him to carry on, but he just sat there, staring at the film. His brother was snoring next to me, and my heart continued beating violently throughout the rest of the movie.

Present

I close my eyes, trying to erase that memory from my mind. It’s just the past. Oliver was only playing with me then, like he’s playing with me right now. He couldn’t know I had any feelings for him. I’ve kept that secret hidden away for years.

I walk to the fridge and pick up a bottle of beer. It’s way too hot in this house, but the kitchen is spacious and there’s plenty of food on the table. People are chatting amongst themselves. Dora doesn’t seem happy, drinking her beer and staring at a half-cooked pizza. Then a group of students walk in, laughing loudly.

Hey, Jacob, Dora shouts, batting her long eyelashes. She’s beside him within a second. We both remember him. Jacob’s the guy who threw the ball with Oliver when we arrived. I already hate him, and I hate that Dora decides to hit on him. I know that look on her face, plus Jacob’s her type: tall, well-built with messy blond hair.

Oh, hey, I was wondering if you would show up. He grins, nodding to the rest of the guys to give him some space. They start talking, and soon, he has his arm around her.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and carry on drinking and people-watching. Dora pushes him away playfully, pretending she’s a good girl, and that she doesn’t get close to blokes she doesn’t know. We both know that’s just her game plan. Dora adores attention. Half an hour later she completely forgets I exist. The alcohol and loud music could turn people into zombies. I know, because I used to be one of those people.

Come on, let’s check the garden. Jacob suddenly takes Dora’s hand. I want to show you something,

Yeah, great. She beams, peering up at him.

Dora, where are you going? We need to leave. I start to protest, but she vanishes into the garden. It’s not uncommon for my best friend to bail on me with a guy she just met, but this time, I’m worried because Jacob might be Oliver’s best buddy.

My skin tingles and I take a few deep breaths, wondering what to do with myself. The two Essex girls are also gone. Someone increases the volume and the music blasts, jackhammering inside my brain. I’m in dangerous territory. I’m scared to leave this precious spot because Oliver’s somewhere out there, and in here, I feel safe.

A few more people walk into the kitchen. A young-looking student passes everyone brand-new shot glasses straight from the box. I take one, not saying a word. It’s not long before he pours vodka for everyone and I’m forced to drink. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of everyone else. Two years ago, I partied almost every weekend with Dora and other friends, so I should be used to vodka.

Another one! A girl lifts her glass, so here goes another round. Somehow, I manage to sneak away from the kitchen with the lame excuse that I need to find the bathroom. It’s safe to be back in the living room. Oliver’s nowhere to be seen, and I don’t have to keep drinking. The music is much louder now, and Dora’s still nowhere to be found. I can only hope she isn’t having sex with Jacob in the back of the house, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she is.

The vodka leaves a disgusting taste in my mouth. My stomach makes a flip, so I hurry upstairs to find a toilet. A few drunken students push past, nearly knocking me over, and I clench my teeth hoping the nausea will pass.

In the bathroom, I lock the door and sit on the floor for a minute or so. Luckily, I don’t have to puke, but my body is drenched with sweat. It takes me a moment to pull myself together.

I look at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I’m ever going to feel normal again. My caramel-coloured hair is all over the place, my cheeks are flushed, and my muscles are aching. I run my finger over my eyes to remove the smudges from my black eyeliner. My stomach makes an uncomfortable growl as I take a few long breaths.

Then I hear a noise, and someone enters. I lift my gaze, and in the mirror, I see a familiar face. Our eyes meet, and the ache in my heart starts vibrating all the way to my bones, causing an eruption of panic. The air ceases in my lungs. I could have sworn that I locked the door when I came in, but now Oliver’s here, standing in that small space with me.

For several long moments, neither of us make a move. His gaze hardens on me. Only two steps divide us, and I consider screaming. Adrenaline starts pumping through my body, but I stand there, immobile, wondering what he will do or say.

A small smile creeps across his mouth as he locks the door of the bathroom.

This is not good, not good at all.

My mind shouts at me to start running, but I can’t move. He’s changed so much since the last time I saw him. His lean, ripped body looks thrilling, and I begin to wonder if he aimed to look like his brother: strong, handsome, and not afraid of anyone, even me. His pupils dilate and he inhales quickly, taking a step forward.

Get out, I say, before he gets too close to me. My voice sounds weak, but Oliver doesn’t even acknowledge my order. He moves even closer. Soon, I’m pinned to the basin, breathing like an asthmatic. His arms cage me in on both sides, and I’m at his mercy. His eyes penetrate me, showing me that he’s in charge like I’d once been.

My heart leaps in my throat, but I don’t dare move. I’m afraid to touch him, to make a connection with his body. Christian was a monster, and Oliver is a man who desires his payback. He wants to break me, though, not caring that we were friends once before.

Indi, you’re going to listen to me very carefully because I won’t repeat myself. It’s only this once, right now, that we’re going to talk. He’s almost whispering as he leans close to my face.

I want to move, scream, shout, or do anything to get away from him, but my body doesn’t want to react. I’m holding my breath, feeling the heat embrace every small part of me. I can’t give him a response. I’m not the person I used to be. Here, I’m weak, lost, and confused.

"You will go back to wherever the fuck you’ve come from. You’re going to pack. Then, you will call your mother and tell her you’ve changed your mind about studying in Braxton. Then you’ll take the next bus to Gargle and stay there until you figure out what to do with your life."

He stops talking and waits for my reaction or response. His closeness is killing me. I’m not able to hurt him the way I used to. My demons are back, but there isn’t any hatred left within me. I poured everything out on Oliver years ago.

I’m hanging there, taking long rigid breaths, wondering if he’s serious. When his expression doesn’t change, I know he’s not joking. He wants me to leave Braxton, to stay away from his new life.

I’m not going anywhere. My voice is just above a whisper as I respond after a long moment of silence. He can say what he wants, but I won’t leave my dream behind. I worked too hard to get here. He can’t expect me to throw my hard work away just because he can’t deal with me.

His dark eyes narrow and his body tenses. There are two possibilities of what might happen: first Oliver will insult me and leave, or second, he might find a way to make me leave one way or another. It’s my own fault he’s so angry right now. I ruined him and all the feelings we had for each other.

I’m giving you a chance to leave of your own accord, Indi. He pins me down with a devilish stare, a smirk playing on his lips. "Otherwise, you won’t have a choice, and I’ll make you leave."

It’s as if I’m enjoying the humiliation, not being able to push him away and stand up for myself. I told you: I’m staying no matter what you say or do. I grind out through clenched teeth.

For a split second he gives me the impression he’s said enough, but then he does something unexpected. He takes a step back and drags me to the wall, pinning me closely to his chest. I let out an uncontrolled sharp gasp when he pushes his body