‹ Prequel: Peach Cocaine
Status: Complete!
Polaroid Cancer
Chapter Four
Taking a sip of Oliver’s Gray Goose vodka, Casey forces herself not to scrunch her face up in revulsion. Oliver is leaning against the bar, smiling affectionately at Casey, knowing full well how much she hates alcohol. He kisses her on the cheek and she smiles back at him.
While the both of them are talking, minding their own business, a thin girl with pin straight dirty blonde hair shimmies her way beside Oliver. She orders herself a drink, adjusting her tiny breasts so they pop out more, and leans in an angle where if Oliver turned, her chest would practically be in his face. Casey can’t help but notice her and suddenly feel a bit self-conscious.
The woman taps Oliver lightly on the shoulder with fake, glistening black nails, and he politely tilts his head to catch a glimpse of who is trying to capture his attention.
“Hello, handsome,” Her lips are puckered as she says this, eyelashes batting playfully, “If you want a less… shapely,” The woman eyes Casey up and down in a fleeting manner, “girlfriend, you can hit me up.” Her hand is holding out a piece of paper, a number is scribbled on it and presents it to Oliver.
A look of disgust and anger wraps itself into his features and he snarls, “I love her. I love every inch of ‘er from the inside out. I love being able to grab her ass an’ her hips while we’re makin’ love. So fuck off, cunt an’ find someone else.” Oliver seizes Casey’s hand and storms out of the pub, leaving her there with an agape mouth.
“The nerve of tha’ bitch…” He mutters. Oliver starts murmuring other stuff but Casey can’t understand it as she’s trailing helplessly behind him while he is still clutching onto her hand.
“Oli, please, can we stop?” Casey asks, but he still continues walking, too wrapped up in his thoughts, “Oliver!”
He freezes and turns around to look at her, “You’re no’ angry at me, are yeh?”
“No, I’m not. I’m glad you said what you did, Oli,” Casey says, smiling a fraction, “A little embarrassing, but I think it got the point across to her. I know you probably get girls like that a lot during tour and I’ve come to accept it. I’ve got to have some trust in you, otherwise I’d be a miserable, worrisome wreck.”
Oliver furrows his brows and kisses her heartily on the lips, “Alright.”
Casey tugs at his hair impishly, and he smiles at her, “Lets go back to the hotel?”
Nodding his head in agreement, they walk the rest of the way seeing as the bar is only three blocks away from where they’re staying.
Oliver wakes up to the sound of the shower running, the patter of water soothing to his ears. A single bar of light hits one corner of the bed and shines across it, glimmering brightly in his eyes when he sits up. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and smiles down at the pile of clothes that his feet are sitting atop of.
He shuffles through his suitcase and finds his favorite red tank top with an image of an angry yellow bull on the front, around the bull is Drop Dead, and on the back in messy, white font is the number sixty-nine ( Drop Dead is above the number as well ). Oliver also grabs a pair of black skinny jeans and boxer-briefs.
By the time he is done gathering everything he is going to wear, the shower has been shut off. Oliver waits patiently on the end of the untidy bed, remembering everything that had transpired in it last night.
He hears a click of the door opening, but no one comes out, “Casey?”
When she pokes her head back out, her face is bright red all the way up to her ear tips and she points at him. Confused, he stares down at his crotch and quickly covers himself up.
Never before has he ever been embarrassed about stuff like getting a boner over remembering something dirty until he started dating Casey Wolton. She can be a bit prudish at times, almost a bit like a pre-adolescent girl, even though he’s pretty sure there are girls that age who would probably take it better then Casey.
Oddly, that is one of the many reason he adores her, “Love, yeh can come out now.”
Casey is smiling like an idiot when she shows herself and is dressed in leggings, a fitted tank-top with a wolf printed on it and many necklaces. “I get embarrassed so easily, ugghh… I’m sorry…”
“It’s a surprise you’re able to ‘ave sex without coverin’ your face in mortification,” Oliver jokes. Standing up and still covering his crotch as he bends down to kiss her on the cheek, he inches himself into the lavatory, “Yeh look beautiful, love.”
Without wavering her smile, she pushes him into the bathroom, “You stink, take a shower, silly.”
“Tha’s not what you were saying last night,” Oliver grins before quickly closing the door behind him.
“Whatever!”
Casey blows a gush of air from her mouth, and flops back on the bed, still smiling.
While the both of them are talking, minding their own business, a thin girl with pin straight dirty blonde hair shimmies her way beside Oliver. She orders herself a drink, adjusting her tiny breasts so they pop out more, and leans in an angle where if Oliver turned, her chest would practically be in his face. Casey can’t help but notice her and suddenly feel a bit self-conscious.
The woman taps Oliver lightly on the shoulder with fake, glistening black nails, and he politely tilts his head to catch a glimpse of who is trying to capture his attention.
“Hello, handsome,” Her lips are puckered as she says this, eyelashes batting playfully, “If you want a less… shapely,” The woman eyes Casey up and down in a fleeting manner, “girlfriend, you can hit me up.” Her hand is holding out a piece of paper, a number is scribbled on it and presents it to Oliver.
A look of disgust and anger wraps itself into his features and he snarls, “I love her. I love every inch of ‘er from the inside out. I love being able to grab her ass an’ her hips while we’re makin’ love. So fuck off, cunt an’ find someone else.” Oliver seizes Casey’s hand and storms out of the pub, leaving her there with an agape mouth.
“The nerve of tha’ bitch…” He mutters. Oliver starts murmuring other stuff but Casey can’t understand it as she’s trailing helplessly behind him while he is still clutching onto her hand.
“Oli, please, can we stop?” Casey asks, but he still continues walking, too wrapped up in his thoughts, “Oliver!”
He freezes and turns around to look at her, “You’re no’ angry at me, are yeh?”
“No, I’m not. I’m glad you said what you did, Oli,” Casey says, smiling a fraction, “A little embarrassing, but I think it got the point across to her. I know you probably get girls like that a lot during tour and I’ve come to accept it. I’ve got to have some trust in you, otherwise I’d be a miserable, worrisome wreck.”
Oliver furrows his brows and kisses her heartily on the lips, “Alright.”
Casey tugs at his hair impishly, and he smiles at her, “Lets go back to the hotel?”
Nodding his head in agreement, they walk the rest of the way seeing as the bar is only three blocks away from where they’re staying.
ooo
Oliver wakes up to the sound of the shower running, the patter of water soothing to his ears. A single bar of light hits one corner of the bed and shines across it, glimmering brightly in his eyes when he sits up. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and smiles down at the pile of clothes that his feet are sitting atop of.
He shuffles through his suitcase and finds his favorite red tank top with an image of an angry yellow bull on the front, around the bull is Drop Dead, and on the back in messy, white font is the number sixty-nine ( Drop Dead is above the number as well ). Oliver also grabs a pair of black skinny jeans and boxer-briefs.
By the time he is done gathering everything he is going to wear, the shower has been shut off. Oliver waits patiently on the end of the untidy bed, remembering everything that had transpired in it last night.
He hears a click of the door opening, but no one comes out, “Casey?”
When she pokes her head back out, her face is bright red all the way up to her ear tips and she points at him. Confused, he stares down at his crotch and quickly covers himself up.
Never before has he ever been embarrassed about stuff like getting a boner over remembering something dirty until he started dating Casey Wolton. She can be a bit prudish at times, almost a bit like a pre-adolescent girl, even though he’s pretty sure there are girls that age who would probably take it better then Casey.
Oddly, that is one of the many reason he adores her, “Love, yeh can come out now.”
Casey is smiling like an idiot when she shows herself and is dressed in leggings, a fitted tank-top with a wolf printed on it and many necklaces. “I get embarrassed so easily, ugghh… I’m sorry…”
“It’s a surprise you’re able to ‘ave sex without coverin’ your face in mortification,” Oliver jokes. Standing up and still covering his crotch as he bends down to kiss her on the cheek, he inches himself into the lavatory, “Yeh look beautiful, love.”
Without wavering her smile, she pushes him into the bathroom, “You stink, take a shower, silly.”
“Tha’s not what you were saying last night,” Oliver grins before quickly closing the door behind him.
“Whatever!”
Casey blows a gush of air from her mouth, and flops back on the bed, still smiling.