Chapter 11

"I'll show him."

***

The kiss isn't gentle. It's clashing of teeth and bruising of lips. It's hard and it's rough.

I'm punishing his lips for all the shit he puts me through. All the feelings he makes me feel.

And the punishment is good. So good.

It's bittersweet; a mixture of pain and pleasure. A consuming desire.

He is sexy as fuck. His messy dark hair is falling across his forehead. His breathing laboured. His plumb red lips so biteable, so much so that I have a strong desire to bite his bottom lip. Hard. And then pull his hair and hear him grunt, or moan. Fuck.

I am supposed to be showing him talented my lips are. Drag It out slowly and make it sensual. Impress. But it's not going down like that. It is more uncontrolled than that.

He doesn't seem to mind.

Not at all.

His fingers weave between my curls, tugging me closer. I can't but moan into his mouth. He mumbles fuck under his breath and tugs my hair again, slightly harder this time.

His tongue runs along my bottom lip. I am panting, deprived of oxygen. He doesn't stop there, he leaves open-mouth kisses across my jaw and to my ear. I shiver as he bites my ear lobe.

"I'm good, right?" I say between heavy breaths, my lips tingling and heart beating erratically.

"Fucking horrible," he breathed, intertwining his fingers in my hair and pulling me back down to his lips.

He moans when our tongues touch, and fuck if that wasn't the hottest sound. His tongue flights with mine—battling for control. Even under me, it feels like he's in control. He tugs my bottom lip into his mouth, almost possessively.

"Is that," I breathe heavily, "good enough?"

I want him to say it. To admit that he likes it.

"I think I need more convincing." He pulls my head back down for a second time.

He rolls us in a smooth motion that I am left wide-eyed and under him.

Holy shit.

kisses along my collarbone. He bites the skin and I hiss. But it quickly turns into a sigh when he soothes it over with his tongue. He continues his bitter-sweet torcher along my collarbone and neck.

He sits up tugging at my shirt. "This. off. now"

His breathing becomes harsher when I pull my shirt over my head. His eyes drink me in. He discards his one smooth motion and I gulp. He continues to bite and suck the skin down my neck and to my chest.

"Fuck.." I pant. "Don't leave a mark," I say between breaths, my neck bared to him.

At that moment he playfully bites my skin and l yelp in surprise.

He sucks the skin below my collarbone.

"Oliver" I grunt in warning as he bites my neck. I shiver as he licks ups the side of my neck.

"Why not?" He grunts.

"Because people will see"

"And...?"

He lowers his hips to mine, grinding against me. I instantly lose all train of thought and moan. He continues to kiss down my chest and I become a prisoner to his touch.

***

I wash my face, again. Then brace my hands on the sink. Slow deep breaths in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

My hands tighten around the basin so much that my knuckles turn white. Dark shadows visible under my eyes, but I doubt people will notice that—not when I have love bites littering my neck and chest...

Pink bruises decorating my neck, easily seen and drawing of attention.

Fuck me.

Standing in the mirror I want to jump into a hole and never come out. Staring at my naked— hickey-covered chest. Starting at my love bites.

I have swim races today... The last day of swimming. The finals. The most important day!

Fuckkk.

Thankfully we were interrupted before it got too far. Thankfully the team are louder fuckers and sound like a small stampede walking down the hallway. Thankfully I managed to scramble away just before my roommates came in.

Who knows the further damage he would have done if he kept at it...

I want to kill him. I swear when I see the guy I will make him pay for this.

God no one is going to take me seriously with this shit all over me! I can't even put makeup over it to cover it up because the water will surely wash it away.

It's okay, I can get through this.

I have come to the decision that I am just going to ignore it... Pretend I don't look like Jackson pollock's new artwork and just carry on with my day. I only have two races today. Then can wear a shirt and no one will remember.

Who knows, maybe I act like it's not there people won't notice?

I mean, it's only a few bruises...

Everyone notices.

From the moment I step outside the bathroom, I feel it. People staring. Some snicker while others blush, some even whistle. I grit my teeth and continue to walk past the other team to where my team is.

It's like the hickey walk of shame.

The hickey walk of shame at a national swim competition...

Awesome.

This is a weird experience, I have never had anyone give me hickeys before—let alone let anyone give me hickeys.

Last night... I wasn't doing much thinking, (At least not with my head).

The rest of the team is all waiting together, the coach is briefing us before we warm up as a team. I am late. Everyone else is already there listening intently to the coach and I am late. Late from freaking out in the bathroom over my marks.

This day just keeps on fucking getting better.

I try to subtly stand in the back.

"I see Beau has finally decided to show up," Coach says, arching an eyebrow at me.

Shit.

That's when everyone looks at me. Everyone takes me in with wide eyes as I make my way over to them. Even Coach looks surprised when he notices.

I scowl. It's embarrassing.

Really fucking embarrassing.

Oliver bites his lip, unsuccessfully suppressing his smile.

I think am going to murder the guy. After his races though, so he can win them and get our team some good points, then I'll murder him.

"Seems like Lipski had a busy night," Tasha mumbles under her breath earning some laughter from the group.

I try to act unbothered, but my cheeks are burning and probably contesting the red of the multiple love bites littered across me.

"Shut up Tash." Oliver rolls his eyes, though he doesn't look too annoyed. Oliver can't seem to keep his stupid smile off of his face.

"Today is our last day of races. I need your head in the game." Coach gives me a stern look, drawing the team's attention back to him thankfully. "No fraternising with the competition, alright."

If only he knew these hickeys didn't come from the competition... but his dearly adored captain.

"Yes sir, I'll follow the captain's lead," I nod, voice composed enough he can't tell the sarcasm in it.

Olive bites his lip smiling as he looks away.

Coach looks confused for a second before nodding curtly. "Good, Oliver's a good role. Should be one to all of you." He says now addressing the rest of the team.

Yeah, a real good fucking role model you got their coach.

***

"Damn, you had a number done on you," Andy says, taking in my chest and neck.

I rub my neck awkwardly and then wince when I touch the tender skin. "I look like an idiot."

"A marked idiot. Poor Sophie who has had a crush on you for like forever looks like a kicked puppy."

I scoff, "She doesn't have a crush on me."

Andy scoffs, "Yes, she does. You're just oblivious to like.. everything."

I shoot him a dry look as I sit on the wooden bend, but he doesn't notice because he's too busy tugging his shirt on. He looks out of it, confused maybe?

We are in the changing rooms. Andy has finished his one race for today and I have one more to go. I should be with the rest of the team cheering on whoever is racing now but as soon as Andy got out of the pool I could tell something was off with him.

"You did good today," I say, wondering if he's upset that he didn't place in his race this morning.

He shakes his head shoving his shit into his bag. "No, I didn't. Even on you're bad day you still qualify for finals. I didn't even get top 3."

My brows furrow. "Andy, you're against some of the best swimmers in the country, don't be so rough on yourself."

He sighs dropping his stuff to face me. "I have to tell you something."

"Okay...?" I say nervously.

"I know about Henry."

My throat feels dry and suddenly I want to be anywhere but here.

"I want you to know I am here for you, Beau. Truly, if you need anything, anyone to talk to, I'm always here for you."

I nod, avoiding his gaze, my body tense.

"I also think you deserve to know, that... Josh, is here. He's racing here today."

---

I'm not a violent person by nature. I mean yeah, I got bark (a lot of it). But I don't got bite. I don't usually bite.

I'm grumpy, rude, and mean—but I'm not violent.

But seems I'm all types of wound up recently; with everything that happened to Henry, I'm tense. I'm jittery and I'm all bite apparently.

But only towards him. Towards Josh.

I don't know too much about him, but I do know the moment I met him I didn't like him. I had a bad gut feeling about him, but I'm usually wrong about those things so I ignored it.

Henry looked up to him, he used to include him in group catches ups and parties. Josh is a dick, always hitting on uninterested girls and objectifying people. He is also the one who got Henry into drugs. The one who encouraged him to take the drugs that night.

He doesn't recognise me at first, he doesn't notice me. He is stretching, seconds from going to the diving board to race. But I beat him to it. He is focused. Too focused on the race to notice me storming up to him. Too focused on the person he is talking to to see my clenched fists and locked jaw.

He looks fine... He looks good. He looks okay. He looks happy. He is alright. He is laughing.

I have never wanted to inflict pain on someone as much as I do now. He laughs again and it only adds fuel to the fire. A whole fucking lot of fuel.

He doesn't have bags under his eyes, he is laughing along with his friend. He is fucking smiling.

Smiling.

He doesn't deserve to smile. I am blinded with rage, no logical thought within a 10-meter radius of me.

He doesn't get to smile when Henry can't, and with that thought in mind, I send my fist flying into his face. "You son of a bitch!" I spit as my fist connects with his cheek.

Josh recoils back from the punch, it takes a second for him to recognise me. His face twists into an ugly expression of anger and shock.

Everything from then on is a blur. A Messy blur of fists flying and bodies rolling around on the ground. All I see is red. All I feel is anger. All I want is to hurt him. He doesn't get to smile, not when Henry can't. He doesn't get to be okay. Get to be good. Get to fucking laugh—not this soon.

People are yelling and shouting. People gasping and crying out in shock as a crowd forms. Everyone is too scared to get involved between two muscular swim built athletes. It is all drowned out to me, my only focus is punching him, hurting him.

He lands a few got punches which would normally make me back off because Josh is the bigger guy. He is the guy who has been in a lot of fights and knows a few good tricks. The guy who has got one hell of a punch.

But anger is a great pain killer and I am fucking high on it.

"Come, Josh!" I yell as I barely dodge his punch to my face. "You going to convince me to take drugs next? Huh? Bet you're even doped up right now."

"Go fuck yourself, Beau! It was his choice!"

I laugh, it's a bitter humourless laugh. "You a piece of shit Josh, ever convince someone to take that much drugs again and I will fuck you up."

He snarls tackling me to the ground. We roll around on the ground trying to get the upper hand.

Strong arms wrap around my waist half lifting me off my feet and pulling me away from Josh.

"Woah, calm down," Oliver's voice soothes in my ear.

I am anything but calm. I'm high on anger. I want justice. I want Henry back, but that can't happen so this is the next best thing.

I grunt struggling to get out of his grip to punch the guy again, but Oliver's grip doesn't budge. He effectively pulls me away from him as Josh touches his split lip looking at me with anger and narrowed eyes, still sitting on the ground.

Oliver drags me into the nearest bathroom but I am too high on anger to notice much. I do notice how he locks the door behind him and guides me to the basin.

Now after the adrenaline from the fight kicked down I feel embarrassed. I adjust the collar of my shirt feeling my face heat up. I am low, all that adrenaline run dry and I suddenly feel tired.

I just want this day to be over already. I want these emotions inside me to be over.

Olivers stands up tall, his few inches on me feeling like miles on me. He doesn't say anything as he grabs some paper towels and wets them before gently dabbing the cut along my cheek. I lean heavily against the sink as he does so, avoiding his eyes.

He doesn't say anything but I can tell he is mad. Big mad.

***