Lust Has No Mercy

A pity invitation to an awkward house. 

They sat casually on the torn leather love seat in Godfrey's parents basement. The thick stench of smoke one of the lasting scents that penetrated Rowan's clothing way after leaving the Godfrey Manor (As her and Oli liked to call it). 

The black coffee table covered in stickers from different bands and clothing companies wobbled with the weight Oli kept putting on it. His legs would shift every so often causing the empty beer bottles to make a soft jingle. 

The lights were low and Rowan sat next to Oli. She hadn't said very much upon arrival. Her face constantly scrunched up as if she were weighting out options in her head about problems she'd still hadn't solved. Oli thought it was cute. The way she'd sink her teeth deep into her lower lip. It was obvious she didn't want to be there. The black curtain of hair shielding her face from the group but him. Her fingers twirling the loose thread on the sweater he had given her the first Christmas she had started working for him. His arm stretching casually over the love seat. They may or may not have one too many drinks. Or, at least he'd help himself to more than plenty. His body felt warm, as if someone had turned the heater on facing it towards his lanky frame. This, Rowan liked. Her usual cold frame tried to mask the draft in the basement, even with her loose crochet sweater and leggings, they didn't help contain the heat her body was trying to grasp. 

"Are ya okay?" he whispered softly into her ear, his opened side shifting softly into her side, trying to get her attention. Oli's breath reeked of the strawberry vodka shots him and Godfrey had done earlier, Rowan didn't mind that either. It made him almost more alluring? 

She smiled softy, nodding her head. She wouldn't dare to open her mouth in case that shiver that she'd bury deep inside of her spill out of her lips. 

"Stop trying to cover it up." he told her, dropping his arm to her side. He pulled her body closer to his, rubbing his free hand up and down her right bicep trying to create more friction to heat her up. Rowan was much smaller than Oli, her petite frame fitting perfectly next to his long slender one. 

The group of friends now hung around the garage of Godfrey's. Cigarettes all hanging between the lips of three out of the four drunken boys. Rowan was used to being the only girl in most gatherings, a time like this didn't bother her. Oli and Rowan leaned against Oli's black car, his arm still wrapped around her trying to shield her from the cool Autumn air. 

He began to pull his arm through the sleeves of his own sweater, trying to get his arm out of the hole. 
"Stop that!" she told him, grabbing his wrist to keep him from taking his cover up from the cold. "Keep it on, I'm okay." she told him reassuringly, keeping her jaw tight to hold back how truly cold she felt. Oli managed to free his wrist from her flimsy grasp, trying to grab both her wrists to peel off his cotton blanket of warmth. She tried to pry her wrists from his grasp; finally able to get one free, she pulled the sweater back down his chest only for him to repeat the same process of grabbing her wrists. 

Oli pressed his forehead to hers. Perhaps his judgment a little clouded from the shots they did. He'd let go of her wrists, her cold cheeks now in both palms of his tattooed hands. 
"You're cold. Take my jumpa." he told her sternly. Rowan shook her head stubborn in his hands. His breath felt warm on his face as Oli just smiled at her. He pressed his lips lightly to hers, catching them both by surprise. 

He pulled away seconds later, peeling the jumper off, and pulling it over Rowan's head. His arm, hung loosely around her side.