Page 10 of Chasing Chase London: Part 8-Valentines Day
The band comes back on, saving us from more awkwardness and hostility. Daria pulls me towards the stage. I go along, since I don’t want to watch Elaine and Ian in whatever world they are in, and I don’t want to watch Chase and Lindsey, and I don’t want Todd to try to dance with me. The front of the stage is even worse, though. Guys are jumping around and slamming into each other, and the girls are dancing in front of Colin, trying to catch his eye with their short skirts and sexy moves.
I’m more of the jumping around type, and I don’t want to stand there and get battered, so I start to get into it and dance a bit. Suddenly Daria grabs my arm, and I glance around guiltily, wondering if I’m dancing with someone she would deem unsuitable, like the day I talked to the Slut Club. But she nods toward the band, and I look up and see that Oliver is at the edge of the stage, playing his guitar and laughing at me.
Great. Now that I know he’s looking, I feel less like I’m dancing and more like I’m doing a daddy-long-legs impression. My gangly limbs are poking in every direction at different times. I don’t even like Oliver, but guys with guitars are so hot, even when they don’t look like Irish gods, that it’s hard not to feel like an uncoordinated stick insect when he looks at me.
When the song ends, I stand there frozen with mortification, wondering if it’s too late to flee and pretend I was never here. If he ever mentions it, I’ll just play dumb and say I wasn’t there, it must have been someone else. Surely there’s another cartoonishly tall, gangly freak whose hair looks like she stuck her finger in a light socket somewhere in Faulkner, right?
Oliver turns to pick up his water bottle, takes a drink, and steps over his cord as he comes to the edge of the stage. Then he drops the bottle in front of me.
I catch it automatically, cringing when I notice a few girls giving me dirty looks. Do they really want his half-full water bottle? You’d think he was Zane Wilder the way they’re acting.
I try to hand the bottle back, but Oliver shakes his head at me, never missing a beat as they segue into their next song. He steps back from the edge of the stage, turning away from the crowd again. I take a drink and nearly gag at the burn in my throat. If I had options, straight vodka would definitelynotbe my drink of choice. After I’ve had a few sips, Daria grabs the bottle and takes a big gulp.
She splutters, the shock on her face beyond comical.
“Naughty Sky,” she squeals, wagging a finger at me, a huge smile spreading across her face.
Instead of giving the bottle back, she takes another swig and hands it off to another girl, someone I vaguely recognize from our school named Mackenzie or Makayla. I don’t bother trying to retrieve it. Showing up drunk when I was supposed to be at work, and after Mom just let me off grounding, would probably not be the best choice I’ve made. Besides, it doesn’t take a lot for me to get a buzz. Two shots from the bottle and I’m already a little tipsy.
Loosened up from the alcohol, I jump around and have a good time the rest of the show. It’s easier now that Oliver isn’t looking at me. The band is pretty okay. Todd joins us and hovers nearby, but he doesn’t paw at me, and he’s big enough to deflect some of the kids trying to mosh so they don’t hit us. I don’t care what he thinks of me, so I don’t feel self-conscious about flailing with long-limbed abandon.
At last, the band leaves the stage, and the show is over. Daria drags me out the back exit, where Future Fuckboys of America is putting equipment in an old beat-up van. Todd comes along with us, hunching his shoulders against the icy wind. Daria’s dress whips about, but she doesn’t seem to feel the cold.
Colin leaves the band to the instruments and comes over to hug Daria and grab her ass with both hands. She shrieks and pretends to try to squirm away while he grinds against her. Oliver glances our way, offers a shy smile when he catches me looking, and goes back to loading amps.
“Enjoy the show, mate?” Colin asks, releasing Daria and clasping Todd’s hand.
“Yeah, man. It was cool.”
Turning to me, Colin yanks me into a damp embrace that smells like cologne and alcohol and sweat in the best way. “Oliver wants to give you a squeeze but he’s afraid he’s too sweaty,” he says in my ear. “So I’ll give you one for him—and a proper one at that.”
A little shiver races through me when he breathes into my ear, and I’m too shocked and confused by his overpowering masculinity to pull away. Here I’d always thought that was something only Chase could do to me.
Before I can react, Colin runs his hands down my back and clamps both hands on my ass, grinding my hips against his. A growl rumbles through him, and my tummy flips, and I finally gain the presence of mind to pull away. I deftly remove his hands from my ass and try to act normal, whatever that is.
Colin just laughs raucously and throws his arm around Mackenzie. He’s a total creep, but somehow I can’t help feeling a little attracted to him. That whole scoundrel act is endearing on him.
Suddenly I realize that Daria, Oliver, and Todd are all staring at me.
“Let’s have a drink to celebrate, yeah?” Oliver says after a painful second of silence. He takes a bottle of whiskey from the back of the van and passes it to Todd. “Cheers.”
Todd takes a drink and passes it to me.
I’m ready for another drink to take the edge off my painful self-consciousness. After a shot, I pass it to Daria. “Sorry,” I whisper, cutting my eyes at Colin.
When Chase does something like that, at least it’s not right in front of Lindsey. I’m not sure that makes it better, but now I have to deal with Daria’s anger as well as my guilt. She shrugs and turns the bottle up, but I can feel the hostility rolling off her.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out to see a text from Mom. I tell the group I have to go back inside, and since the guys have finished loading the instruments, everyone follows.
“Now that’s nice,” Colin says, close behind me. I turn to find him staring at my ass, that roguish grin on his face.
I wish Todd wasn’t so nice for once and would just deck him, but no such luck.
Daria storms off as soon as we’re through the door.
I start to follow her, but Oliver stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry about my brother,” he says, looking anywhere but at my face.
