Andy, You're A Star

It's New Years Eve.

Two months have passed since Oliver came over that afternoon.

We're not dating, not in the normal context of the word. He's not my boyfriend. I am certainly not his girlfriend. But he still takes me out, he still kisses me and holds my hand, and he still makes me warm.

Now, as I stood in front of my door-length mirror, looking myself over, I let out a small sigh. Oliver would be over in fifteen minutes to pick me up for his annual New Years Eve party. I was his date for the night, lucky me.

Unfortunately, it left me the very difficult task of finding something to wear that would hold Oliver's attention. Nothing scared me more than the fact that we weren't officially together; it left the options wide open for him to leave me and chase some other girl. I was pretty sure that he did this on purpose, but I never mentioned it.

Right now, I wore a pair of black skinny jeans, a pair that Oliver has influenced me to buy on our recent endeavor to the mall, and my pink, lace-trimmed bra. I could not, for the life of me, find a shirt that satisfied me. I had been through my closet twice, sifting through all of the random shirts that I owned. I was now choosing between a very casual, blue and white baseball style t-shirt that said West Sheffield Cricket Team. On the back, it said Ross in capitol blue letters. It was Mum's from when she went to my school, and it was very comfortable.

The other shirt was a black tank top that had black lace trimming that resembled my bra. I didn't particularly like the shirt, but I knew that Oliver did, because he's told me on more than one occasion.

After a few more moments of internal debate, I went for the cricket shirt. It probably would do nothing to hold Oliver's attention tonight, especially when the much prettier, much more willing girls would be parading around in short skirts and tube tops.

The thought had me reaching for the tank, but I changed my mind again at the last minute. If I couldn't hold him without having to use clothing and my body, then there was no hope for our relationship, whatever type that may be.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and I yanked the shirt over my head, yelling for Oliver to come in.

He did, and I was still pulling my shirt on when he looked over to where I stood. I didn't notice until I heard him purr playfully behind me. I felt his hands on my bare sides before I got the shirt down over my stomach. He nipped at my neck, and I squeaked, immediately embarrassed by the involuntary noise.

Oliver kept his hands underneath my shirt, and pulled me against him so that my back was pressed against his chest.

"Ready to go?" he whispered against my ear, before taking my earlobe between his teeth and biting gently. He started sucking, and I couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped my lips. Again, I was embarrassed, but he didn't seem to notice how my neck and face grew warm.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice would have shook if I would have spoke.

"Right then," he twirled me around and pressed his lips against mine, pushing me back with the force of the kiss. I met him perfectly so our lips didn't crash, and he leaned into me, his arms supporting my lower back. These were the best kisses from Oliver. The way he put all he had into them made me weak at the knees.

He pulled back and smiled that wonderful, room brightening smile, before lacing our fingers together. We made it to his house ten minutes later, and it looked like everybody was already there.

An hour passed, two hours, and by the time the third hour rolled around, Oliver was considerably drunk. I had a few less drinks than Oliver, but I was still pretty smashed. I was small compaired to Oliver, who wasn't too big himself, so it didn't take much to get me drunk.

Oliver somehow managed to get me upstairs, where we stood in the hallway. I was pressed against a wall, and Oliver was very persuasively trying to get me to his room. It took a lot of my will power to push him away when he started sucking gently on my collarbone.

"Oliver, stop it," I laughed, and he did, but he looked up at me with a devastatingly adorable pout on his lips.

"'S not like we're doin' anythin' wrong," he slurred, pouting some more. It was hard to concentrate, having him looking up at me through those thick lashes and giving me the puppy stare.

I sighed, and he backed away, holding onto my hand, and twirling me until I was next to him. With his arm around my shoulder, we stumbled to his bedroom. There was another couple in the hallway, and Oliver smacked the guy in the back of the head, resulting in a string of curses.

"Don't mess the carpet, Tommy. You know mum gets all fussy when you fuck up the carpet," he snickered, and the boy flipped him off, but grabbed the pretty brunette and led her down the hall. I recognized Tom as Oliver's brother, and the girl that was with him as Shauna. He was around a lot when I came over, and Shauna, being Tom's girlfriend, was here often too.

Oliver giggled and we continued down the hall, until we reached his room. Once we were inside, he shut the door and pressed me into it, smirking at looking into my eyes from inches away.

"Oliver, you're very drunk," I tried to sound serious, but it's hard to do when you're slurring your words.

"So are you," his smirk turned into a grin.

"Flattery will get you nowhere when you're this hammered, Oli," I laughed, and he groaned.

"Can't you just kiss me, Andy? I know I'm a bit sick right now, but I still want your kisses," he pleaded, and I smiled, pressing my lips to his very softly. I felt his lips pull up into a smile.

He kissed me back, and it was clumsy and his lips tasted of alcohol. Then again, so did mine, so I didn't complain.

I knew that I would end up spending the night, and taking care of Oliver's hangover in the morning. It made me happy being the one that Oliver could count on to be there the next morning with aspirin and a glass of water. I guess I felt that it would make him want me around more often.

I walked Oliver over to his bed, sitting him down with our lips still attached. I climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist, and he moaned, his hands finding their way to my hips and pulling me closer. His fingers squeezed my sides slowly, something he knew drove me crazy, and continued to kiss me.

I pulled away, my breath coming heavily, as Oliver's lips moved to my neck and collarbones. His hands pushed up under my shirt, fingers gliding over my skin and pulsing against my back.

"Oli, maybe we should slow down," I breathed, and he nipped at my neck in response.

"Don't you think we should start kicking people out? It's already...three in the morning," I said, placing my hands on the sides of his face and pushing him back enough for me to look at him.

He sighed, "you're probably right. Like always."

I grinned, and he kissed me again, before I slid off his lap and took his hand.

We walked to the top of the stairs, where you could see the entire living room and part of the dining room. A lot of people cleared out in the time that Oliver and I were upstairs, but there were still quite a few left.

"ALRIGHT EVERYBODY, GET THE FUCK OUT! GO HOME! GO TO HELL, JUST GET OUT!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and more people filed out. There were a few passed out on the floors and tables, so Oliver and I went around waking them up.

The ones on the floor, I nudged with my foot. I rolled the one sleeping on the coffee table to the ground, and he woke with a start, before glaring at me.

"Go home," I said, and he sighed, standing and stumbling to the front door with the rest of them.

A pair of arms wrapped around my waist, and I immediately identified them as Oliver's when he started sucking on my neck.

I shivered, before turning in his arms.

We stood there for a few minutes, our lips pressed together, until I pulled away and looked around.

"Is that everyone?" I whispered against Oliver's neck.

He nodded, and I smiled, kissing the hollow base of his throat.

"Let's go to bed, then," I suggested, feeling Oliver's grip tighten on me.

I yawned, feeling tired suddenly. I leaned into Oli, pressing my face against his chest and taking in the smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke.

"Right then, up we go," he agreed, and turned his back to me, offering me a piggy-back ride. I had to step on the coffee table to be able to get onto his back, but once I finally got on, his arms latched around my hands, and I wrapped my arms around his neck loosely, resting my head on his shoulder.

We made it to his room without incident, and I slipped down from his back.

I layed down on his bed, yawning again, as he stripped down to his boxer-briefs. It bothered me the very first time I'd ever stayed at his house after a party, but he told me that he didn't have any pajama's, and I knew that skinny jeans wouldn't be very comfortable to sleep in, so I let it go.

He climbed into bed next to me, and we slipped under the covers. I shifted myself closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around me while my eyelids started to drop.

"Happy new years, Andy," he whispered, pressing his lips to mine for a long moment.

"You too, Oli," I smiled, and snuggled further into his warmth, resting my head on his shoulder.

Tomorrow would be hell, but it would be worth it with Oliver there.