You Distract Me - S01 E06

Story 6 months ago

You Distract Me - S01 E06

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 6

King Kong

I stayed frozen to the floor for three reasons.

One, Shayne's body was pressed firmly against my own.

Two, the fierce scowl that was plastered against her face.

And three...

"This is Olivia, my girlfriend."

What in the world was going on?

The guy Shayne had been talking to was long gone, walking off right after Shayne introduced me as her girlfriend.

At least a minute had passed, but it was long enough to be considered awkward that Shayne was still holding me against her with a death grip. But as stupid as I was, I couldn't think of a better place to be.

But before I'd ended up drowning in her heady cologne, I summed up the courage to at least move an inch, my hand on her hard abdomen moving slightly.

And it certainly got her attention, her head snapping down to look at me, hazel eyes finding mine staring.

As much as the scowl on her face terrified me, I couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement rush all the way from my furiously blushing cheeks to my tingling toes.

Then the scowl instantly disappeared, and got replaced by a mixture of realization and regret.

Shayne closed her eyes and sighed heavily, face palming herself as she growled.

Mmmm. That sounded good.

Then she started chuckling into her hand, humorlessly at first, and then nervously as she carefully let me go.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, concerned.

I shook my head despite the stinging on my upper arm where her hand had gone around to grip me against her.

"Look at me."

I couldn't, at least not until I could control the brutal heat caressing my cheeks.

"Let me see," she said when she probably realized I wouldn't look at her. She reached forward and pulled away the hand I hadn't known I'd wrapped around my stinging arm.

She instantly hissed and I looked down at my arm.

That's not pretty.

Her long fingers had left a nasty print against my slender arm, the dark looking color probably a little too alarming.

"It's nothing," I lied, ignoring the sting of disapproval in my arm.

"Damn it, Olivia. I'm sorry." The complete remorse in her husky voice made me lift my head to look up at her.

No one had ever looked as sorry as she looked, her worried gaze moving between my face and my arm.

"Really, it's fine. All I need is some ice, and I'll be good to go." I tried a smile, but failed horribly, not because of the stinging in my arm, but because of the inability to look away with the way those hazel eyes captured mine in sheer nakedness.

I swallowed hard.

How ever am I going to survive this?

"Let me get you some ice then." Shayne said before dashing off and leaving me to stand alone at the bottom of the staircase, awkwardly greeting the few people that passed by.

At some point, it got too awkward to be standing alone, so I just started walking, making sure to veer away from the barbeque in case I met my mother and she'd start asking too many questions.

Knowing the mansion so well, I headed for the home theater where I knew my mother wouldn't find me.

Shayne had probably already forgotten about me, considering how long she'd taken.

Once I was safely in the home theater—thankful it was empty—I turned out the lights and succumbed to the sheer bliss of being alone with a screen in front of me, and a really comfortable sofa.

For some odd reason, I wasn't in the mood for the barbeque, or anything to do with too many people and loud music.

I just wanted peace because I felt uneasy, like something was nagging at me, but not telling what was wrong.

I winced from my stinging arm as I settled myself on the comfy U-shaped sofa.

I sighed tiredly when I realized the TV remote was quite far from my reach. In fact it was way above the screen. Probably Christina's dad who had placed it there, his towering height a consideration.

Getting up from the sofa, suddenly in a terribly foul mood, I walked towards the large plasma TV and tried to reach for the remote. But since I was assigned the height of 5'5, my idiot self couldn't reach it.

I was suddenly so angry.

"Come here..."

"Whoa! Did I come in at the wrong time?"

I turned my head to find Shayne standing beside the sofa, the obvious shock of seeing her beauty once again caught me off guard.

Then it hit me. Wrong time?

I then realized that I'd hooked my right leg over the platform where the screen stood, and my dress hitched up too high. My hands splayed against the screen in a way I'd never intended to be naughty.

But it must have looked like I was trying to get it with the TV or something.

"It's not what it..." I said standing on my two feet only to find Shayne grinning in amusement.

My eyes widened at the realization that she was only playing with me.

But unfortunately, I didn't find it funny. I was infuriated.

Then I did something that shocked the hell out of the both of us.

Lifting my leg behind me, I pulled off my shoe, and flung it towards Shayne's face, the wedge connecting dangerously close to her left eye.

And almost immediately, I realized what I'd done.

She's never going to talk to me again.

"I'm. So. Sorry," I said my hand cupped over my mouth as I took off my other shoe and tossed it aside, afraid that I might attack again.

"Damn, girl. I'm sorry about your hand, but you didn't have to go all King Kong on me to get back at me," she said as she held a hand over her brow.

And nothing in the world could have relieved me more than the easy smile that came across her mouth, and the open amusement in her voice.

"You're not mad?" I asked in shock.

"Nah, it's my fault. I guess you're not in the best of moods, huh?" She moved so that she was able to sit on the edge of the sofa, her hand pulling away from her face.

I gasped.

Her fingers were bloody and the end of her brow had been split open, allowing a slow trail of blood to form.

Without hesitating, I rushed to one of the antique drawers in the hope of finding a first aid kit.

But then I found a small bag of ice and a pack of food on the drawer closest to the door.

She's brought food too? I'm a horrible person.

Finally finding the first aid kit in the theater's bathroom, I turned back to Shayne.

Now, when I say my brain short circuited at the sight in front of me, that's an understatement.

There stood Shayne—hair, free and wild—standing in front of the screen and easily reaching for the remote.

But she wasn't wearing her shirt anymore.