Page 20 of Lines

Just when it looks like there is going to be a cat fight, Sanders has to come and interrupt it. His hands are around Amelia and Brook like they belong to him. A cocky smile is plastered all over his arrogant face. They are all standing there, talking, but then Sanders takes Amelia’s hand and starts pulling her away.

I stand up from the couch I was sitting on in the corner of the room, and start after them. I’m furious. I don’t know at whom exactly, or why, just that I am. Maybe it’s at Amelia because even though I warned her, she still came with Sanders to the party. Or, maybe, it’s at Sanders because he’s putting his hands where they don’t belong. But the feeling is there, hot and ugly creeping at my insides, wanting to come out. There is no way I can just keep sitting there waiting for the two of them to come back. God only knows what he would do to her. I know what I want to do to her, and Sanders would be a fool not to want the same. However, Amelia is mine, and I’m not a guy known for sharing.

“You know, you have to stop doing this,” my best friend’s voice breaks into my fuzzy, rage-filled mind. Always looming in my shadow, that bastard.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I deny, but my feet keep moving forward, chasing after her.

“Pff… Like hell you don’t. She’s messing with your head, man.”

He’s right, and I hate when he is right, but there has to be a way to get her out of my head. If Sanders didn’t sniff around her all the damn time, maybe I would be able to return to how things were before. She would be there, in the background, and I could be myself.

I enter the kitchen, Andrew hot on my heels, and stop when I see a blur of strawberry blonde hair just seconds before she collides with my chest, stunning me.

Her hands grip my shirt to steady herself. Fingertips grazing at exposed skin of my upper chest, just under the neckline of the t-shirt, cause a bolt of electricity to run through my body. They are soft and delicate, just like her. The air hitches in my lungs and the blood starts running faster in my veins.

“Look at what the cat dragged in.” Andrew chuckles lightly behind me. “Dotty, it’s nice to have you on one of my famous parties.”

In the blink of an eye, I return to the present moment. My hands are still gripping her shoulders, not giving her the opportunity to move an inch from me.

I want to hiss at my friend to stop being a dick and grow up. Name calling is so old school, but I guess Andrew didn’t get the memo.

“Ma-x …” she stutters uncomfortably, her eyes moving to the floor. “Max invited me.”

The first word that came out of her mouth is his name, and I hate it. The blood boils in my veins, but this time for completely different reasons.

“Ohh, I know,” Andrew declares, amusement loud and clear in his voice. “He told us so. Didn’t he, Derek?”

Her eyes connect with mine. They are warm brown with just a sparkle of gold, wide in surprise and bit of fear. Her lips form a little ‘O’, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

“7up, Lia?” Sanders shows up next to her, his fingers curling around her slender wrist to gain her attention.

I shoot him an annoyed glare. My hands trace the length of her arms until I get to her wrists, brushing away his hand. I don’t like him touching her. As a matter of fact, I don’t want him close to her or even looking in her direction.

“She doesn’t need it,” I take her hands in mine and start walking backwards pulling her behind me. They are calling for us to come back, but I don’t slow down.

If it’s even possible, her eyes grow bigger, but she doesn’t say a thing. I turn around so that I don’t crash into someone on the way, but don’t let go. Passing through the dark hallway, I take the back staircase, the one hardly anybody outside of the family knows about, and start climbing upstairs.

“Derek…” she whispers like there is somebody around who can hear us. When there is no answer from me, and we are already at the top of the stairs, she tries again: “Derek, stop! Where are you taking me?”

Her muscles are rigid under my fingertips, and the fact that she is trying to break away from my touch enters my brain.

I stop and turn around to look at her. There is no light in this part of the house, only the one coming from the street through the window, so I can barely see her shape in the darkness.

“I don’t want you near that douche Sanders, so we are going upstairs,” I mutter quickly and then I turn and continue on my way.

It’s like I’m obsessed. There is no other explanation. The only thing my mind can process is to take her away, not to give a chance to Sanders to touch her again.

Without giving it much thought. I open the first door and pull her inside before closing them with a loudthudand pressing her against them.

My hands still hold her wrists and I’m leaning into her.

Amelia’s sweet, fresh scent surrounds me as I whisper in her ear: “What did I tell you about the whole Sanders thing, little one?”

I can feel her shudder beneath me as my hot breath caresses the side of her face. From my peripheral vision, I see her looking straight ahead, her cheeks pink—in embarrassment? In need?—so I let myself close my eyes and breathe her in. Chances to have her like this, under me, almost at my mercy, are so few that I have to make the most out of any chance I get.

“I … he …” she murmurs softly, her voice trembling.

Opening my eyes I look down at her and watch as her cheeks become an even brighter shade of pink and how she nervously licks at her lower lip, only to softly bite it a moment later. I want to groan loudly when I feel my body react at her unconscious movements. “He … and Jeanette came. And, uhmm … my mom and Brook were there … and he, kind of invited us. In front of her. My mom, that is. And then she practically kicked us out of the house. She was that excited. You would think she was the one going to the party. Ohh, but not before she made us go up and change. She said she wanted us to be pretty. Huh, like that’s possible. And now you are staring …”

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