Rite of Passage

In short, the next thirty-three minutes and twenty-eight seconds comprised the most uncomfortable car journey of my life. No one spoke. At all. Nor did anyone bother to alleviate the silence that settled heavily over us like a dark cloud by turning on the radio.

By the time the car rolled to a stop at the edge of the woods, it was safe to say that nobody was in a party mood. Vegan and Oli looked very much like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole, Lee looked vaguely constipated, and I was well aware of the sour expression that contorted my own features.

Any other time, I probably would have made an attempt to disperse the awkwardness of the situation, brushing aside the tension and making a witty remark about the state of my brother’s face. But it wasn’t any other time, and I wasn’t in a very dispersing-the-awkwardness mood, so I just calmly undid my seatbelt and stepped from the car, closing the door gently behind me before setting off without another look back.

The blowouts at the woods were officially Rotherham’s worst kept secret. They were a sort of unspoken agreement between the ‘troublemakers’ and the police, who were willing to ignore the underage drinking and debauchery that occurred in favour of a peaceful town. For one night, at least. The parties were by no means invitation only events, and as far as I could tell, there were no age restrictions; I almost immediately walked by a nervously giggling group of thirteen-year-old girls wearing too much eyeliner and too-short skirts. The music of drunken adult laughter drifted temptingly out to me from deeper within the trees.

It was in this direction that I wandered, following the warm glow of firelight, aware that the guys were somewhere behind me. My breath fogged in the air before me, slithering through the sky in an imitation of tobacco smoke. I pulled my parka more tightly around me, thankful that the warmth of the coat warded off the worst of the autumnal chill. It could have been worse; I’d been to many a rain-drenched and snow-coated party in those woods.

Someone had managed to hijack a keg, I noted as I stepped through into a conveniently located circular clearing. The barrel was leaning precariously against the trunk of a fallen tree long since covered by moss, the normally muted silver gleaming with vibrant oranges and reds from the flames of the central fire. My eyes rested on it briefly before flitting to the group of guys sitting just a few feet from it on a fallen tree trunk, their bodies angled towards its heat.

I honestly didn’t know whether to cry or run the fuck away; I’d unwittingly marched straight up to the guys from Architects. That in itself wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, had Matt Nicholls not been in their midst. I groaned inwardly, turning sharply on my heel, but someone was calling my name before I’d even managed to take a step.

“You alright, Hols?” I turned and planted a thin smile on my face, nodding awkwardly at Sam Carter. His expression was vague but friendly, the spaced look in his eyes telling me that alcohol was not in short supply tonight.

“I’m good.” I studiously avoided looking at Matt as I let my eyes skim the faces of the members and crew of Architects. “What are you guys doing in Sheffield?”

“Couldn’t miss the party before we went home, could we?” Tom Searle piped up, sending me a warm grin. He patted a space on the empty log beside him, shoving his twin slightly to make room. “Pull up a pew.”

I’d always had a weakness for Tom and his cheeky smile, so hesitated only momentarily in taking him up on his offer. I regretted it immediately however; no sooner had my arse touched the damp surface of the log than Matt was springing up and walking away without another word. His gait was, by all appearances, as casually suave as ever, but there was a tension in his shoulders that belied his apparent ease. No one else seemed to think anything of his retreat, but I found myself frowning after his lanky figure.

“You know what, I, uh, think I’m going to get a drink,” I stated suddenly, shooting Tom a quick smile. “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay.” Tom’s brow was furrowed slightly, but he didn’t stop me as I rose and started in the same direction Matt had disappeared.

It only took me a few seconds to locate his red beanie through the throngs of people, hovering in front of what seemed to be a makeshift alcohol station. My legs were carrying me toward him before I’d even made the conscious decision to move. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, but I’d been suddenly and shockingly overwhelmed by anger and frustration. It was a mystery to me what Matt’s problem was, but I was completely fucking sick of walking on eggshells around him.

My heart was hammering beneath my ribcage, my suddenly clammy hands were quaking and my brain was pleading with me to turn around, but I took a deep breath and closed the distance between us.

With his back to me and dubstep pumping loudly around us, he didn’t hear my approach. He sure as fuck seemed to sense it though, because an instant after I came to a stop behind him, his shoulders tensed and his hands stilled on the bottle of alcohol he’d been inspecting.

I didn’t wait for him to turn around, because part of me somehow knew he wouldn’t. I did, however, reach out to roughly shove him; not hard enough to make him fall, but with enough force to let him know I was pissed off. He whipped round instantly, shock and confusion etched onto his features. “Holly?”

“No, it’s the fuckin’ Tooth Fairy,” I drawled sarcastically.

His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded.

“My problem?” I asked thoughtfully, the epitome of calm. “Uh, lets see, shall we? Well, there’s the fact that you seem to have a massive problem with me.” My shoulder rose in a jerky shrug, my hands spreading before me. “Care to explain that one for me?”

He scoffed, a cocky smirk twisting his lips, and for a moment all I wanted to do was kick him in the balls. Instead of answering me, he turned to pick up a beer, bringing it to his lips for a casual sip while I stared at him in expectation. I really thought he wasn’t going to answer me, but then he sighed and eyed me with boredom, as though I wasn’t even worth sparing any emotion. “I don’t have a problem, Malia. Do me a favour: fuck off and leave me alone.”

All I could do was stare at him incredulously as he sauntered away without a single look back – he’d never been so openly hostile to me before. Suffice to say, I wasn’t remotely satisfied by his response. And I like to believe that I would have stormed after him for an explanation, had Abby not chosen that exact moment to pop up in front of me.

“Hey, Hols!” she chirped. I groaned, not even bothering to hide my eye roll.

“What d’yeh want?” I sighed. It wasn’t that her presence annoyed me; it was just that I knew she had an agenda tonight.

“Well, hello to you too,” she pouted, gloss shimmering on her pink lips.

“Seriously, what d’ yeh want?”

She shrugged, twirling a strand of honey hair around her finger thoughtfully. “What’s up with Matt?” she wondered, noticeably avoiding my question. Her gaze skimmed over to where he sat once more, laughing with Tim Hillier-Brook as though my anger wasn’t significant or remotely worthy of remembrance.

“You tell me,” I grumbled, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

“Probably just needs to get laid.” Oh God, here we go. “Speakin’ of…” she brought her gaze slyly back round to me, smirking widely.

“Fuck’s sake, Abby! Can we please go one day without havin’ this conversation?” I demanded, throwing my hands up in the air.

“I’d stop buggin’ yeh if yeh’d just-”

“Just what?” I interrupted shrilly, taking her completely by surprise. I wasn’t usually so quick to anger, and my tolerance of Abby was abnormally high in any case. It took immense provocation to get me to blow like this. “Just fuck a random guy? Just forget all my morals; forget that I like someone else, or…” I trailed off suddenly, my eyes landing on Matt.

I swallowed the giant lump in my throat, blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened to form.

“Holly?” Abby’s voice seemed so faint over the pounding of blood in my ears. “Hols?”

Matt looked up and, for a brief moment, our eyes connected. But then he was looking away, laughing at something Tim had said and shaking his head. I tore my gaze back to Abby’s face, seeing the worry that folded her brows and marred her pretty face.

“Just do it,” I murmured almost inaudibly, causing her face to twist in incomprehension. I swallowed again, inhaling deeply through my nose. “Forget everythin’ I just said… I’ll do it.”

“Yeh’ll do what?”

“It. Sex. Whatever yeh wanna to call it.”

“Oh.” Now there was pure doubt in her expression. “Really?”

“Yeah… I just...” Want to feel wanted. Want to get rid of this fucking sick feeling in my stomach. “I guess I just realised that I’m ready,” I chose to say, ignoring the words that were desperate to escape me.

“Really?” Abby was smiling now, bouncing on the pads of her feet. “Great! Well, er, who with?” It seemed like this problem was just occurring to her now – knowing her, it was.

“Ugh, I don’t even care anymore,” I grunted, turning to the table of alcohol. For a moment I just stared at the bottles while Abby twittered in the background, taking in the different colours of the liquids and the lettering on the labels. I may not have liked alcohol, but I’d been around the guys enough to know the strengths and effects of the various substances.

It was as I stared at the bottles that a realisation hit me: I really didn’t even fucking care anymore. I just wanted to be numb. I didn’t want to feel anymore.

I’d heard enough tour stories and hangover tales to know that if there was anything that could make me numb, it was alcohol. And it seemed like I was forgetting all my other principles for the night, so what was one more to abandon?

Abby stopped talking the instant my hand closed around the neck of a bottle. The clear liquid sloshed inside as I picked it up, hastily uncapping it and throwing the red plastic aside.

“Uh, sweetie, that’s not water…” Abby murmured as I brought the bottle up to my mouth and, closing my eyes, took a long sip. The vodka burned the moment it touched my mouth, sour and heavy on my tongue. It lit a fire in my throat, the artificial warmth strangely comforting as it worked its way down my body. The shudder that wracked me was unstoppable.

“This is turnin’ out to be one for the books,” Abby stated, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead.

“Just find me a guy, yeah? I’ll be here.” I took another sip of the vodka, pulling a face. It truly was like drinking cleaning chemicals.

“Are yeh sure?” Abby questioned uncertainly, twisting her hands. “I mean, I don’t really wanna leave yeh alone.” She eyes the bottle in my hands uncertainly.

“Fucking go, will yeh? How much trouble can I get into surrounded by my brother’s friends?” I had a point and she knew it, but she still backed off slowly, as though waiting for me to yell at her that I’d changed my mind.

I hadn’t, and I watched her go with an eerie sense of calm. I didn’t know whether it was a result of the alcohol or my own careless idiocy, but I embraced it nonetheless.

One thing I did know, however, was that vodka starts to taste a lot better after the first few sips. The burn dulled to a warmth that was more welcome than unfamiliar, and after a while I wasn’t even forcing myself to drink anymore. My stomach twisted at the alien substance, but my mind welcomed the feather-light feeling of carelessness. It was this carelessness that made me smile at the people who passed by me to reach the alcohol and sway along with the breeze that rustled nearby leaves.

But after a while the swaying made me dizzy, so I backed up lazily to a tree, sliding down the trunk when my limbs loosened and shook. When I next raised the bottle to my lips, I amused myself by filling my mouth with the transparent liquid, puffing out my cheeks and then spraying the vodka out. My laughter was maniacal, I’m sure. I groaned when I realised I’d sprayed the alcohol all over myself, and hastily stripped myself of my wet parka. The cold breeze didn’t even seem to touch me, and I realised then that I’d reached my desired state: complete numbness. I really don’t know how long it took for me to achieve it, but it was an alarmingly short space of time.

“Holly?” Footsteps approached me.

“Mhhmm?” I hummed lazily, squinting one eye open.

Abby was leaning over me, her expression a mixture of humour and concern. I amused myself by reaching out to pat her cheeks lightly, and she smiled at me before taking a step back. It was then that I noticed the guy hovering behind her, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark hoody.

“Heeey!” I greeted him brightly, lurching to my feet.

He smirked, a dimple popping out in one cheek. I wanted to poke it, but even in my drunken state managed to restrain myself. “Hey yourself.” His voice was deep and rumbling, and his left nostril was adorned with a thin silver hoop. “I’m John.”

“Hey, John. You here to fuck me?” I questioned bluntly, blinking up at him. Fuck, he was tall.

Abby let loose a wild laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave yeh with her then.” She turned briefly to wink at me before ambling off, no doubt to look for Tom.

“Well, at least yeh’re not shy,” he commented. “I wouldn’t have put it that way myself, but-”

“Stop talking now.” Without pause for consideration, I stumbled forward and planted my lips on his. He grunted against my mouth, but kissed me back nonetheless, moving to place his hands on my hips. It didn’t occur to me to question the morals of a guy who was willing to fuck a complete stranger at a moment’s notice; I wanted to lose myself in something so completely that there was no room for thought, and this ‘John’ guy could provide that.

At this point, I think it’s important to note that despite my actions, I really wasn’t normally such a slut. Well, obviously I was still a virgin, but I also wasn’t the type of girl to snog random guys at parties. But I was beginning to see why drunken girls became such messes: it was so fucking easy to do. It made me not care that my first time was going to be with a stranger, or that he wouldn’t be concerned about (or even knowledgeable of) my situation.

His lips were warm and surprisingly plump, and what surprised me most was that I liked it. I liked kissing this guy. Or maybe I just liked kissing, I don’t know. Either way, I thought nothing of bringing my arms up to wrap round his neck, dropping the vodka bottle so that it landed with a dull thud on the mossy floor. Vodka spilled over to saturate our shoes, but I was past caring.

I pressed myself to John as he slid his tongue into my mouth, moaning lowly against him. Had I not been completely spaced, I would have been mortified at the sound. As it was, I barely even noticed. I also seemed not to notice that we were in plain view of every single person in the clearing.

John did. Someone nearby wolf whistled, and he tore his mouth from mine long enough to grab my hand and head for the trees. I followed mindlessly, panting slightly. His hand was large around mine, and seemed unnaturally warm. I guess I was just too stupid to realise that it was because I was so cold.

I expected him to stop once we reached the relative darkness of the trees, but he kept going until the music of the party faded and I had to stop myself from falling over random forest debris. “Where are we goin’?” I whined, causing him to halt.

“I guess this is far enough,” he murmured, more to himself than me.

Before I could even ask him what he was talking about, he’d turned around and pressed me up to the nearest tree, coaxing a small moan from me when his hips pressed to mine. Evidently, he was turned on. His lips were on my neck in an instant, nibbling and sucking at random intervals. My eyes rolled back and my breathing became choppy, whines emanating from my mouth at an embarrassing rate.

This guy would good with his mouth. Really good.

He was apparently good with his hands too, as the feel of his warm, calloused palm sliding beneath my shirt to my bare stomach made my muscles quiver.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I murmured, and his lips curved against my skin in a smirk.

He dragged down the neck of my shirt in an effort to reach more skin, but the cut was high and the material stubborn. Impatient, I shoved him back and drew the shirt up over my head, all sense of shame and awareness of temperature completely abandoned.

John smiled widely, unashamedly staring at my heaving chest. “I think I like you,” he murmured.

“Shut up,” was my only response.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him back to me, eager for the warmth that spread over my skin when he touched me.

His mouth was back on me an instant, teeth grazing the soft flesh at the curve of my breast. I dragged my hands up under his shirt and hoody, feeling the muscles of his back contract under my chilly assault. In return, he dragged a hand up over my stomach and, without so much as a pause for consent, dipped it under the cup of my bra to close over my breast. My answering cry was instinctive and loud, my eyes slamming shut.

It was all happening so fast, and my head was whirring, but I was completely aware that I wanted this to happen. Maybe it wasn’t how I’d imagined losing my virginity, and I was studiously ignoring the voices in my head screaming at me to stop, but I was so caught up in the reactions of my body and the vodka swimming through my system that it seemed like the best place in the world to be at that moment in time.

I reached for John’s belt buckle as his thumb ghosted over my nipple, shudders wracking my body. My head lolled back, the rough bark of the tree biting into my scalp when my beanie was dislodged from my hair, a guttural whine escaping my throat.

My body was a mess. John bit down on my throat while his hand squeezed my breast firmly. I don’t know how, but he managed to use his other hand to pop the button of my jeans and pull down the zipper in the space of about three seconds. I’d just opened my mouth to take a deep breath when he pressed his palm to me over my knickers.

I groaned, fingers clutching at his shoulders as my hips rocked forward with a mind of their own. I pressed myself to his palm desperately, the contact causing waves of electricity and heat to roll over my body.

We were so engrossed in each other that neither of us heard the trampling of twigs nearby, or the muted curse of someone as they stumbled over a rock.

He saw us before we saw him.

“Shit, sorry,” he started. Even in my drunken haze I recognised the voice, and though John hadn’t moved an inch, I whipped my head round to meet the eyes of the man standing not three feet from us. “I didn’t realise-” he trailed off when he got a good look at my face, his jaw slackening.

For a second, Matt was frozen, but then his eyes flickered over the scene before him. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but still I made no move to push John away.

“Dude, do you mind?” John barked, brow furrowed, when Matt continued to stare.

“Holly?” he finally breathed, face twisting in disbelief.

His expression changed in a flash; his jaw tightened to what seemed like a painful degree, his eyes darkened over dangerously, and he took a staggering step forward.

“Holly, who the fuck is this?” Matt barked, pointing to John, who had the presence of mind to remove his hands from my person.

“Um, this is John…” I murmured, perplexed. “And if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something.” I glanced pointedly down at my semi-naked form, ignoring the panic that threatened to overwhelm me.

Matt ignored me completely, turning instead to John with an indecipherable expression on his face. “Who the fuck are you?”

“She just told you.” John sent an annoyed, questioning glance my way, but I was too busy concentrating on breathing steadily to pay him any attention. I didn’t feel so good all of a sudden.

“You’re right, and I don’t care. Fuck off.” Matt crossed his arms tightly over his chest, feet spread, and jerked his head in the direction of the clearing. His message was clear: John needed to get out of his way, now.

“You fuck off. I got here first,” John retorted, crossing his own arms.

I rolled my eyes at the macho bullshit, then groaned as my stomach spasmed painfully. I bent slightly, clutching my bare midriff and suddenly hyper-aware of the chilly breeze. All previous pleasure forgotten, my body shook with the cold. “I don’t feel good,” I groaned. Neither man paid me any attention.

“You got here first?” Matt questioned incredulously, turning his gaze to me. “Do you even know this guy? What the fuck is wrong with you, Holly? When did you turn into such a slut?”

“Dude, that’s a little harsh…” John backed up when Matt sent him a searing glare, spreading his palms wide. “Christ, what’s a guy got to do to get laid around here?”

“Fuck off!” Matt all but roared, bounding forward to grab John by the front of his hoody and slam him into the tree I’d just been pressed up against. Somewhere in the back of my mind, surprise registered. Matt was known to throw a few punches in a fight every now and then, but he never truly got wound up about anything; they were normally petty fights that were forgotten with a few back slaps and a beer.

“Okay, okay… Jesus! How was I supposed to know she had a boyfriend?” He jerked free of Matt’s grip and, with one last glance at me, stormed off toward the party.

“He’s not my-” I murmured, only to be cut off by Matt.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” His face was twisted in what could only be described as utter disgust as he regarded me. “Jesus, Holly.”

“What is your problem?” I slurred heatedly. “Yeh’ve got no idea what yeh just fuckin’ ruined, do yeh?” My stomach turned violently and, before either one of us could say another word, I turned and emptied the contents of my stomach into a nearby bush.

Matt muttered obscenities somewhere behind me. “Are you fucking drunk?”

“Fuck off.” I tried to shout it, but it left my throat as a pathetic croak. “Just… fuck off,” I finished pitifully, retching. Matt shifted behind me as I fell to my knees. “You don’t care about me, so just leave me alone.” I was horrified to realise that hot tears were rolling down my cheeks in quick succession, dropping to the mossy floor beneath me. A large shudder wracked my body.

“Fucking hell, Holly.” Warm, gentle hands were pulling me to my feet and guiding me to lean against a tree. I closed my eyes lazily, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When I opened them again, it was because Matt was lifting my arms over my head. Confused, I started to pull away, but he was already pulling a soft jumper down over my body.

His, I realised, when I saw that he was just wearing a shirt and tie now. He’d taken to dressing kind of like a toff lately, and I’d found it kind of cute. “What are you doing?” I murmured. “I told you to fuck off.”

He zipped up my jeans and, sighing, lifted his eyes slowly to mine. They were warm and wide, like they always used to be when he looked at me. All traces of anger had vanished, replaced with something that seemed a lot like concern. “I care, Holly.”

“No, you don’t,” I said softly, my bottom lip trembling dangerously. I stumbled forward; the only thing that stopped me from face-plating completely was Matt. He steadied me as best he could, but I thrashed away from him. “Stop it! Leave me alone!” I sobbed. Part of me was embarrassingly aware of how much of a pathetic tool I was being, but a much bigger part of me couldn’t bring myself to care. “Fucking cunt.” I slapped his chest half-heartedly.

“You done?” he questioned patiently - calmly. I was so used to him being spastically hyper that all I could do was sniff at him. “Good. Are yeh gonna come back with me, or am I gonna have to drag yeh?”

“I don’t wanna go back,” I sniffed pathetically. “I wanna die.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Matt grumbled, rolling his eyes at my childishness. “I can’t believe yeh’re hammered. I go away for one fuckin’ tour and everythin’ changes.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I spat bitterly.

I think he knew what I was referring to, because for a moment he simply stared at me, mouth opening and closing rapidly. Finally, he just groaned, rushing his hands through his hair impatiently. “Fuck it,” he stated.

Before I could ask what the hell he was talking about, he’d hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. My stomach turned in warning, but I ignored it, desperately trying to adjust to the change in gravity.

“Matt! What the fuck are yeh doin’?” I slapped at his back, wriggling in a futile attempt to be freed.

“Yeh’re pissin’ me off, so would yeh please just shut the fuck up?” he demanded sharply, tightening his hold on me so that I could barely move an inch.

It might have been the fact that I was feeling nauseous again, or that I’d realised just how cold I was compared to Matt’s warmth, but I shut the fuck up. My head started spinning as blood rushed to it, so I shut my eyes against the world and concentrated on breathing in time to Matt’s steps.

Up and down. In and out.

The world faded to black until the only thing I was aware of was the large spread of Matt’s palms on my body and the rhythm of his hasty footsteps. Distantly, I recognised my brother’s panicked voice as he shouted my name, but it all faded to insignificance. I passed out within seconds.