Page 18 of Oliver

When I wrench on the handle, he presses me against the metal and says, “This is just the fucking beginning. I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” I sneer and he steps back, eyeing me coolly when I turn.

His thick blonde hair hangs shaggy around his ears, accentuating his pretty if dispassionate eyes. His scowl doesn’t abate which should deform his plush kissable lips. Newsflash—it doesn’t.

His appearance may bring to mind the fun-loving surfer type guy, but it would be a mistake to underestimate him. If you look beyond the wall, you can see that whatever humanity used to reside there is gone.

He used to be charming and funny, adding to his allure. Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been tough, just not, dead inside.

“I’ll spank your fucking ass.”

He walks away before I can comment and with a bitter chuckle, I slide into my car.

I remember the first time I met this new version of Oliver. As a freshie, I was searching out my next class before the final bell rang when I came around the corner and found the trio who would control our school with an iron fist, frisking a smaller boy. What stood before me was nothing, but beauty wrapped up in a sinister bow.

The high school consisted of a maze of dark corners, misleading halls, and endless linoleum, all of which was getting the better of me.

As soon as I saw Oliver and his friends, the boys I grew up with, I should’ve walked right by but back then, I didn’t know any better. At that time, Oliver was just the boy who used to chase me around the playground calling me playpen before he proceeded to ignore me altogether.

So, I was blissfully ignorant of who they would become and the extent of their domination in a ridiculously short period of time, although I learned quickly enough.

Some kid, I assumed to be a fellow freshman, based on his miniature size, although his aggressor was hardly a fair comparison to use, dangled from Diem’s arms.

The boy hung awkwardly, his neck sprawled at an odd angle, desperation leaking from his pores. He may have been dead weight, but you couldn’t tell from Diem’s expression, nor the way his arms barely flexed under the strain.

Standing a good foot taller than me, Diem crowded that poor boy against the wall like a devil on the hunt for blood, his dark hair loose around his ears, and his strong jaw clenched in a grim smile.

Switching between my fascination with the cute if raggedy boy, now turned beefy teen, with new tattoos covering his bulging muscles, I spied Oliver. Equally as tall, but leaner, blond with a crew cut and bland expression, he said, “What did we say? Hmm? Now you’ve riled the beast.”

His voice, smooth and even, could melt caramel over ice, and if I hadn’t been half baked, I was now.

Though he looked the part of the nerdy college professor with his pressed slacks and a button-down shirt, he exuded a sexy confidence that drew you in.

“You’re being too nice,” Ramsay said behind him, cocking a dark brow, his pale blue eyes boring brutally into the poor freshman.

Just a look, a glance from those glacier cold eyes, should make the kid piss his pants.

This one was ice to the other's fire, showcasing his power in a perfectly pressed pair of jeans and a high-priced shirt, with a Rolex that probably cost the same amount as my mom’s car.

This isn’t to say he wasn’t strong, for his muscular arms stood out under the expensive fabric, only that he preferred to show his might with money and power, and he excelled at both.

“I like to take my time,” Diem grunted, shoving his arm even further against the boy’s throat.

The kid choked once more, his previously pale freckled face turning an unattractive shade of puce. I couldn’t tell you what they said after that because I was too caught up in their sheer beauty. Somehow these guys who were mere boys last year transformed into dangerous foes over the summer.

It was laughable really. One look from Oliver’s pale green eyes and images I would not soon forget flashed over my vision.

If it weren’t so fanciful, I might think that day turned me from an innocent girl into a woman with needs and desires that eventually he would be the one to fulfill.

But while I stared dumbly, Oliver turned to me and crooked a brow, saying, “Need something, little one?”

What happened to that boy who tugged on my lopsided pigtails with a wicked grin?

Averting my gaze, I fought off a flush that started as a slow burn in my stomach and ended with rosy cheeks I could not hide.

Despite the weird dynamics, I couldn’t suppress the tingles breaking out in my core. I’d never admitted it to a single soul, not even my best friend Sabrina, but Oliver was a force I couldn’t deny, at least to myself, that I desired.

Sensing my unease, I hoped, he curled his lip while Diem dropped the student, who sagged against the wall with a whimper.

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