I Can Taste the Failure

“Well, don’t you look…” Oliver grinned, a half smirk half smile that was his specialty. He raked his eyes down my body as I stepped down my front steps in a sunny yellow free-flowing top that helped the sun reflect off my red-tinted hair, dark straight-legged jeans, and canvas sneakers. “Sexy.”

My raised eyebrow made him chuckle, low and throaty. “It’s still not the second date, Oli. And, might I add, you’re breaking the terms of your license agreement by driving here unsupervised,” I poked him in the chest lightly, eyes teasing. “Should I turn you in to the police?”

“Well-fuck-me,” he muttered under his breath, just catching both the joke and the arrangement of the swear. He ducked his head as he spoke, looking up at me through his lashes.

I tried to withhold the grin from my face, but it slid on my face the second I looked at Oliver, really looked at him. He was shining, somehow more than usual; hair sort of sticking up, lip ring tugging at his lip, golden eyes bright with the possibility of the night before us.

“You’re really being too hopeful,” I told him, more amused than wary. “It’s really going to be a letdown.”

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, but Louise popped up in the doorway, cutting him off with a half-stern, “Oliver, I want her back by midnight.”

“Louise.”

Oliver just raised an eyebrow, slightly amused, and slid his arm around my arm just as I planted my hands on my hips, ready to tell Louise off. He pulled me gently from the step, but I put up a fight with a “Hold on- Louise, I am not your bloody kid!” Oliver pulled harder and I wobbled on the top step. He circled his arms around my waist, flipped me over his back, and said, “No promises, Louise.”

“Oliver!” I shrieked loudly against his back, curled fists beating against him.

“Serves you right, Stryder,” Louise muttered.

“I’m coming for you when I get home, Plaebo.”

“Her last name is Plaebo?” Oliver said once he tipped me into the passenger car seat.

“Louise May Plaebo.”

“Wow, that’s shameful.”

Louise shrieked and slammed the door shut as Oliver slid in the driver’s seat and started the car. “Moody one, she is,” he mentioned once we were safely pulling out of my driveway.

“You have no bloody idea,” I said, turning to face him and liking the way he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the stereo. The Misfits roared to life at his touch. “One time, she was on a date- well, actually, she was supposed to be interviewing Alex from All Time Low, but she ended up scoring dinner with him after. So she comes home four hours after the interview supposedly ended, crying, just a mess. She blubbered about how she ordered a salad, but he insisted she get pizza, and then when she came onto him, he told her he had a girlfriend. Twenty minutes later she wanted to track him down and pour a drink on his head.”

Oli shook his head, “Like I said, moody.”

I started to sing along with the radio after some time and he smiled at me, “You can sing.”

I shrugged my shoulders, blushing a little, “I’ve been told that, yeah.”

He nodded, “You’re good.”

“Thanks, I- well, I’ve always loved it,” I leaned back in the seat. “I always thought I’d be a singer, not a crappy driving instructor.”

“Well, why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I guess I just gave up after a while.”

The sky had darkened considerably in the past half-hour and Oliver flipped on the wipers as it began to drizzle.

Trying to change the subject, I shot him a hopeful smile. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the surprise, love?”

“Oh, come on,” I whined.

“Pouting, Holley?”

Biting my lip, I slowly slid my hand onto his upper thigh. “Please.”

“Holley,” Oliver said in a low voice. I slid my hand up an inch. “You’re going to make me crash the car,” I only went up a fraction of an inch this time. “I swear to God, I will pull over this fucking car and you can forget about that second date crap.”

“Fine,” I muttered and sank back into the seat, crossing my arms. “And it’s not crap.”

We slowed down on the road and Oliver took a wide turn, violently swinging us into a parking lot behind a row of buildings. “The pizzeria?” I asked, actually excited, immediately forgetting Oliver’s annoyance. I had been worried about the possibility of a fancy restaurant.

I jumped out of the car the second the ignition turned off, and Oliver followed after me, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Oliver,” I sighed, dancing back and halting in front of him only to yank on his wrist and pull him after me. He grumbled something under his breath and I turned on him, “What is your problem?” His face, blank, made me dig my nails into his wrist. I blinked through the steadily increasing shower up at him. “Really, you’d think one fucking date wouldn’t be such a big deal. If you’re going to fuck with me, Oliver, you can just drive me home right now.” He growled under his breath, shook his head, and walked past me, pulling me after him by the same hand that I had just used in the identical fashion.

We were silent as we sat down in the red plastic benches.

I pulled a menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers, popping it up so that it hid Oliver from view. I knew what I wanted immediately, of course; I was a sucker for habit, but I continued to stare at the menu. I didn’t want to look at Oliver; I still felt the anger biting at me, unusual because I was more of a forgetter than a forgiver.

“Hi, I’m Emma,” said a voice, and just above my propped up menu I saw our waitress; lengthy, blue-eyed, with deep chestnut hair that shined even under the harsh overhead lighting. “What can I get’cha?”

“Now, love, I’m a vegetarian, so what would you suggest?”

Face like stone, I lowered the menu. Oliver was completely ignoring me, keeping his eyes riveted on our waitress and her black skirt as she chattered about the vegetable pizza. He ordered the pizza, not even bothering to ask me what I wanted, and stared at Emma’s ass as she walked away.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I told him stiffly, pushing myself out of the booth.

Shaking, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Away from Oliver, I no longer felt angry, only pathetic. He was rude and revenge-seeking when he didn’t get his way, and I didn’t understand his mood swings. I gripped the lip of the porcelain sink, swung away from the mirror, and marched back out.

I stopped cold, anger and pain and jealousy gripping my stomach in a vice.

Oliver was leaning against the counter, pressing a pen into Emma’s palm as he scribbled down his number. Tears of anger and embarrassment stabbed at my eyes- was I so awful that my date was already searching for another within ten minutes? Louise had been right to originally call him a prick, and I had been an idiot for agreeing to go out with him.

I curled my hands into fists, storming straight at Oliver, not caring that my tense body and determined movements were attracting stares. My shoulder connected roughly with his as I passed, and loving the revenge, grim satisfaction seeped into my mind as I knocked him off balance. I blew out the doors like an angry gust and stepped out into the street.

His voice- I almost stopped, but my mind overpowered the want to see his face.

He followed after me, easily faster even when I broke into a cold run. He roughly grabbed onto my arm and wrenched me to a sudden halt, yanking me towards him, forcing me to look into his eyes. I tried to jerk away, but stronger, he held me fast against him. His eyes seared in anger while rain drove into mine.

“What the fuck is your problem, Holley?” growled Oliver.

“You fucking arse-hole, my only problem is you.”

“I didn’t do a bloody thing to you!”

I finally wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “Next time, ask out a girl that actually wants to fuck you on the first date.” I turned away from him and started down the street, only to be followed. I rounded on him at the end of the street, annoyed, “Stop following me!”

“No.”

I blinked into the rain. “No?”

Oliver took a step closer, and confused, I didn’t back away.

“You are not my girlfriend, Holley, and you don’t have any claim over me. If I want to hand out my number, I will. I’m going to fuck whoever I want, and I’m not going to care about who I hurt, including you,” Oliver gently pushed me against the red brick building behind me and rested both of his arms on either side of my head. “You can either accept that, or I’ll drive you the fuck home.”

I stared at him, frozen, rain dripping down my cheeks like tears.

“Tell me… tell me you’re sorry.”

“Why should I apologize?” His lips dipped to my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. “When did I ever say I would date only you?”

“You acted like I wasn’t even worth five minutes of your time.”

“You’re worth much more than five minutes, Holley, and you should know that.”

I blinked back actual tears, “But I didn’t.”

“Don’t cry,” Oliver said, putting a hand on my cheek. “You’ll always be worth my time.”

I gasped as he kissed me, slow with restrained frenzy. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his weight pressed me into the brick wall. His tongue ran along the bottom of my lip, pressing for more, and then he was exploring my mouth. Oliver pulled away from me, his hand tight on my hip as he pulled me away from the wall and against his curved body.

“I want you.”

“Okay,” I breathed, and then his fingers were intertwining in mine and he was pulling me back to the car.