Andy, You're A Star

For the past four days, I've been asking myself, Tyler, and anyone else I've come in contact with how I let this happen.

How am I, me, Andrea Ross, set to go on a date with Oliver Sykes?

Let's have a little background check on our grinning boy, shall we? Oliver Sykes has dated at least twenty five percent of our high school (including some boys), has locally famous parties, is in a band, and has every single lip glossed and orange skinned girls falling to their knees for him. And I mean that literally, of course.

And now let's learn a bit about me. I've had two boyfriends in my entire life, one of them in the second grade when boys still had cooties, and one of them last year that ended badly. I read books in my room by myself, I don't have any money or status, and I definitely am not popular amongst the higher ranks of our school.

I've got friends, but not really good ones, except Tyler, and he's spoken no more than seven hundred words to me in the past two years we've been friends.

So you can see my dilemma.

What the HELL does Oliver Sykes want from Andrea Ross?

And now is Friday, I'm sitting in my living room, half-watching the window for headlights, and half-concentrating on the news that was on TV.

I was doubting whether or not Oliver was serious about the date, but he probably was seeing as he reminded me every time I saw him in the hallway at school, or in class, or after eighth period when I sat outside with Tyler.

And then it happened.

A little black car turned into our driveway, the headlights bright against our white garage door, and then the lights were off, and none other than Oliver Sykes was stepping out onto the pavement and making his way to my front door.

I panicked for a moment, wondering if I should just hide and pretend I'm not home, but then I would feel like an idiot forever, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was insanely eager to find out more about Oliver.

There were three quick raps on the door, before I hurried over and opened it.

Before he had a chance to say anything, I held a finger to my lips, silencing him. I couldn't risk my father hearing a male voice; he would completely flip his lid if he knew I was leaving the house with a boy.

I quietly opened the coat closet and pulled out my royal blue hoodie before shutting the door and slipping out onto the porch with Oliver.

I shivered once, slipping my arms into the sleeves, before looking up at Oliver. He was watching me patiently, and when I met his eyes, he smiled a cute smile, and we started toward his car.

Once we were inside and safely out of my fathers earshot, he laughed quietly.

"Good evening, Andrea. I must admit, I shocked that you're actually going along with this," he said lightly, backing out of the driveway.

I looked over at him and noticed what he was wearing for the first time. His attire was a little stunning. He wore a slim fitting black sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his usual tight black jeans and black slip-ons. But for some reason, he looked...neater than normal.

"What brought all this on?" I asked quietly, and he was silent, deliberating for a few moments.

"I see you all the time, and I've noticed that you're not like all the other girls I've met..." he shrugged, and I waited for him to continue. It didn't seem like a good enough explanation to me, and the silence between us must have hinted at that, because he quickly elaborated.

"You read, you've got perfect grades, you're polite, and noticeably aggressive. There's got to be more to you than just that," he chuckled, and I sighed. And here I had deluded myself into thinking that he might actually find me appealing.

"That's not good enough for you?" he asked, his tone a mix between annoyance and confusion.

I shrugged. I didn't know what to say.

"Okay, here's the plan. We're going to have fun, because you're sorely in need of it, and we'll see how things go, alright?"

It seemed reasonable enough. As long as he was paying.

We ended up going to some lame B-Horror Movie that we laughed through, throwing popcorn at the couple making out three seats in front of us. I was reluctant at first, afraid of getting in trouble, but Oliver assure me that he would take the blame, and that there was nothing to worry about. He told me to relax before making me hold out my hand and placing a heap of buttery popcorn in my palm. He grabbed my wrist gently and flung the popcorn for me, causing me to duck down in my seat.

But after a while, I actually started to enjoy myself.

After the movie ended, we left the theater and walked to a near-by park. It was chilly out, and I wished that I had worn my other jacket, but I tried to ignore it.

Which brings us up to present time.

"My parents are a total bust. They're to busy with Baby Annie to fuss about with Grown-Up Andy. I'm not angry at them, though. Annie has had a lot of medical issues since before she was even born. She was really premature, and it messed her organs and whatnot, so she's always sick and in the hospital. It's not much of a deal. I'm old enough to take care of myself, Annie still just a toddler. She needs them more than I do," I only believed what I was saying about half-way. I still missed having my parents to myself, but Annie really did need them.

"It's not selfish to want your parents to talk to you, Andrea. I know you think that your baby sister deserves their affection because she's sick, but you're growing up too fast, and pretty soon they'll have no time left to get to know you."

"What are your parents like?" I asked, looking up at Oliver as another shiver passed over my skin.

"They're pretty cool. Gone a lot on business, so I get the house to myself a bit, but when they're home they're very into family time. It's kind of a pain, but it's good to know they care, you know?" he laughed, probably thinking about some silly adventure he had with his parents.

"Is that how you get away with your parties?" I wondered, and he laughed again.

"You bet."

"You know, Oliver, you're not as big of a jerk as you lead on..." I smiled, looking down at our feet stepping in unison.

"Well, you're not nearly as uptight as you lead on. I guess we all act a little. Even though I'm sure you'll change your mind after you've known me for a while," he hinted, nudging me gently.

"Oh, get over it Sykes. You're not as bad ass as you think you are."

"Well, you are the one that smoked me in the face, so I'll take your word for it."

"I'm not a violent person. You must have triggered some instant defense mode in my mind."

"You hit pretty hard for not being violent."

"Yeah, well I guess you should think before sexually violating me again."

"What if I get permission first? Then can I violate you?"

I paused for a moment, thinking through his last statement. Without me realizing it, we had slowed to a stop sometime within the last two sentences.

"Oliver, are you asking if you can violate me?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, but I'd be satisfied if you'd let me kiss you again. And not walk away with a bloody lip."

"I don't know, Ol-"

"I'll make you a deal. If you get uncomfortable, you can hit me again."

"I don't want to hit you again."

"Then don't get nervous."

He flashed me his beautiful and terribly persuasive smile, waiting for my response.

I pursed my lips and averted my gaze away from his; I looked at my shoes, the white power covering the ground, the trees, then back to my shoes only to see a pair of black slip-ons step within an inch of my old Chucks.

The front of my body was suddenly warm, and I looked up carefully to see Oli standing very close to me, looking at me gently.

My lips parted slightly as my breath left my mouth in a sigh, and Oliver took advantage of it by leaning down slowly, giving me enough time to pull away or stop him, before pressing his lips to mine very softly. I could feel his hesitation, but I wasn't registering much other than the warmth that Oliver presented, and how badly I wanted to get closer.

Without thinking, I took a step forward and leaned into him, kissing him back as his cold fingers came to rest on the back of my neck. I shivered once, but was focused only on Oliver's extremely soft lips, and the warmth. I pressed the front of my body closer to his and in turn deepened the kiss.

My mind was very foggy and wrapped around Oliver like his arms were around me, until his tongue flicked over my bottom lip. I realized what was going on with a sudden jolt of clarity, and I jumped back, one hand shooting up to cover my mouth. I saw Oliver flinch very slightly when my hand was going up, but I wasn't too concerned.

Almost immediately I regretted leaving the heat and comfort of him, but I couldn't move back to him. I couldn't even speak.

"Andrea? What's the matter?" he asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second.

"Nothing, I just....that was...I..." I couldn't form a coherent sentence, so I gave up trying. I hadn't realized until now that I'd started shivering, almost violently. Apparently, Oliver noticed to, because he moved toward me despite my reaction before, and pulled me towards him. His hands brushed quickly back and forth on my upper arms, chafing them and trying to warm them.

"How did you get so cold?" he asked, and I shrugged, leaning into the warmth again.

"Let's get back to the car and warm you up," he suggested, and it sounded like a good idea. It wasn't too far away; we got there quickly and once we were inside, Oliver turned the heat up all the way, before starting the engine. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward my house.

I glanced at the clock on the dash and had to stifle my gasp.

"It's already past midnight! Shit, shit, shit..." I muttered, rubbing my hands together.

"Is your room on the second story?" Oliver asked, and I nodded.

"We'll figure something out," he grinned, and I was worried slightly by the glint in his eyes.

It screamed trouble.