Silver Tides (Silver Tides Series) (8 page)

fight

People were slowly flowing through Miranda’s resplendent white double doors as we arrived. Tammy, Jaimie, and I strutted into Miranda’s house, turning heads. Tammy was wearing a tiny white dress that made her look like Pamela Anderson, while Jaimie was looking fit for a fashion runway in her little red dress. I felt like the chew toy between two show dogs, but boys were leering at me as much as them, so they must have done a decent job of my makeover. Since John had come into my life, I’d been dusted with his popularity—I was cool by association.

We entered the hall. People were dancing in the living room to our right and others cued for the toilets on the staircase to our left. In front of us the kitchen stretched out with drinks and snacks. It was a typical Miranda Steven’s party.

"Where's John?" Miranda demanded the minute we were in the door.

"Hi, Miranda," I greeted. "So good to see you. You look nice."

She glared at me as Tammy giggled. People around us noticed my entrance flanked by my own posse. I suddenly realized that our arrival looked like a challenge to Miranda's reign.

"You got some style." Miranda shrugged, looking at my dress. "But after tonight John will be mine and you will disappear back to wherever you came from."

"Can't we all just get along," I said, trying to create peace, but aggravating Miranda further.

Jaimie interjected to avoid a scene. "We're all just here to celebrate you becoming a single lady; just chill."

Miranda composed herself as she noticed the growing attention around us. "Get yourself some drinks; the party's just getting started." The tone she used suggested that she meant the contest for John’s affection was on.

Miranda's mansion sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, with a pool that looked like the edge dropped straight off the cliff. It was a white marble palace, one that my family couldn't afford in fifty lifetimes. Jaimie and Tammy grabbed drinks while I stayed sober to drive.

Tim flew down the stairs and wrapped himself around Jaimie immediately; they disappeared shortly after. Tammy and I joined some dancers in the living room, until a preppy private school guy claimed her on the dance floor, leaving me alone. I began to move toward the kitchen to get a juice when a hand grabbed mine. I smiled assuming if would be John. Turning, I found myself face to face with Dylan Sands, Miranda's ex.

"Hi." He smiled, his fringe flopping into his eyes. "I'm Dylan."

"I'm leaving," I replied, emotionless.

"I just want to dance," he said, pulling me closer.

Alcohol stained his breath, and his eyes told me he was after more than a dance. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I looked around for help but Tammy had disappeared. The other couples around me were in drunken dancing mode.

I reigned in my panicked thoughts. ‘I’m over-reacting,’ I told myself, ‘there is no need to make a scene.’ If Miranda saw me with Dylan she would drag me out by the hair and have a screaming fit in her driveway. That was something I wanted to avoid.

"I'm Miranda's friend," I told him resolutely. "I'm not going to hurt her."

"You're Mya Belan, the girl who saved 'aquatic hottie'—that's what she calls him. And Miranda's not your friend; she hates you. So why not give her something to really hate you for?" Dylan said, putting his hands around my waist and trying to kiss me.

I pulled away planting my hands firmly on his chest, pushing him back, but he was drunk and strong and I was losing ground fast. His bin breath was on my face, my stomach heaved and my arms shook with the exertion of keeping him away. This was not the way I imagined my first kiss.

"Get off her!" John ordered, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Sorry, man," Dylan slurred, stepping back and putting his hands up in surrender. “I didn't know she was taken."

"She is," John shouted, his fists clenched.

"No, I'm not," I disagreed hotly. "I'm not a toilet that's engaged. I'm a person."

John looked at me, anger and amusement playing across his face.

In one fluid motion he stepped forward and threw me over his shoulder and began carrying me toward the stairs. Classmates and strangers alike ogled us amused or jealous. My face burned with shame as he carried me out of the living room.

John stopped at the foot of the stairs, I couldn’t see who he was talking to.

"Do you have a spare room?"

"Upstairs," Miranda replied, too surprised to deny John his request. Of all the people for John to ask, it had to be her---I was dead at school. I hid my face but I could feel Miranda’s eyes glaring daggers at me.

As John carefully navigated the stairs, the shock of the situation wore off. I began to beat on his muscled back. "Put me down!"

He ignored me, entering one of the bedrooms with an open door. He tossed me onto a queen-size bed in a room that overlooked the ocean. It was fancier than any of the hotels I’d ever stayed in, but I was so angry that there was no time to be impressed. John deliberately walked to the door and locked it, blocking my exit. He was ready for a showdown.

"What was that?" I demanded angrily, crawling off the bed while trying to keep my skirt down.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he shot back heatedly.

"I'm not a cave woman that you can carry off!" I yelled, frustrated.

"Well, you could have fooled me," he snapped, running his hand through his golden curls. "What was all that about?”

"Nothing!" I defended myself indignantly. "He was drunk; I appreciate you saving me, but I don’t appreciate the manhandling."

"Why don't you like me?" he yelled, still angry. "We were supposed to come here together, then you’re not at your house and I find you with that creep. What's he got that I don't? .... Don't answer that… he’s rich and attractive… I just don't get it. Don't you have any feelings for me?"

John’s anger only aggravated me further. "Of course I do!" I shouted in response. "I like you heaps; I like you more than I should."

"Then what's the problem?" he asked, his frustration dropping significantly. The tone of his voice tugged at my heart. "Why don't you want to be with me?"

My face flushed, and my heart rate accelerated exponentially. They were the words that I wanted to hear, but was not ready for.

"Who said I don't want to be with you?" I asked, crossing my arms across my chest to protect my heart, still angry.

"You did, like two minutes ago, in front of that baboon." He exhaled, running his fingers through his hair again. "Why aren't you my girlfriend already?"

"You never asked." I stood my ground, but I was weakening. He actually liked me, maybe more than liked me. That realization was toying with my emotions in the most pleasant and unpleasant ways. My chest swelled with emotion.

"You'd knock me back if I did." He sighed, defeated.

Seeing him hang his head made me cross the room and take his arm to drag him to a mirror hanging across from the luxury bed. The room was decorated like a hotel in Dubai, with its crisp slate sheets and an opulent mirror hanging over a low black chest of drawers.

“Look at you; look at me,” I replied logically, motioning between us. “You’re going to get your memory back, and you’re going to remember that you’re dating a supermodel… You’ll break my heart.” I couldn’t disguise the tremor in my voice.

The curly-haired girl with the flawless skin and rocking dress in the mirror looked bereft as she looked at the blonde Thor, who stood beside her.

John turned my body to face him. "If I get my memory back and I had a supermodel girlfriend in my former life, I promise I will dump her bony-boy butt for you. All there is for me, is you," John said, taking my face in his hands. "Now, will you please be my girlfriend?"

His cold hands on my face set my heart racing. I was setting myself up for heartbreak, but looking into his genuine eyes filled me with courage. "OK, yes, fine, I'll be your girlfriend."

John let his fingers trace along my cheekbone and brush lightly against my lower lip, making my breath catch with anticipation. His eyes were filled with affection unleashed by my accepting him. He licked his lips slightly before leaning down and brushing his lips gently against mine in a whisper of a kiss. My knees literally felt weak from the rush of his lips touching mine. His lips were cool and salty. My head was swimming in a sea of ecstasy.

"Finally." He laughed, pulling me into a bear hug.

"Are you guys OK in there?" Miranda yelled, beating on the door.

"Get lost, Miranda," John yelled. "I'm kissing my girlfriend."

The pounding party music and Miranda’s designer house all disappeared as John brushed his lips along my jaw and trailed kisses down my neck. My nerves were working overtime. I kept still worried that I’d do something embarrassing. Then I worried that I was being too stiff and let my hand wander shakily up John’s back.

What if I kissed sloppily or if I did something to embarrass myself so that he wouldn’t like me. Then his lips claimed mine, his confidence stole my jitters; he’d clearly done this before.

Miranda knocked forcefully on the door. "I don't want people upstairs," she screamed.

John pulled back, glancing at the door. "This is great, but Miranda is really killing the mood."

“Just a few minutes more,” I argued, pulling him into another kiss. My eagerness ignited a new round of kisses.

Miranda began kicking the door adding an unwelcome pounding to my first make-out session.

John pulled away and laughed when I refused to relinquish my grasp; his eyes asked me to follow his lead.

I let go reluctantly. "Fine," I agreed, belligerent, "but you owe me."

"I always will," he joked, but before I could ascertain his meaning he'd dragged me to the door.

Miranda stood in the doorway pouting like a spoiled child. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, fixing me with an angry look.

John answered for me. "No, Miranda, it's our night. We're going to dance. You might want to start being nicer to your friends."

John pushed past Miranda, pulling me behind him. We left her with her arms crossed and a look that should have killed me.

John and I joined Jaimie, Tim and Tammy in the living room. Despite being surrounded by my friends all I could see was John. Our bodies moved rhythmically to the music, our foreheads joined when our lips weren’t. I felt like Cinderella at the ball dancing with her handsome prince. Even when the music was fast we managed to kiss.

I occasionally glanced at Miranda giving me death stares. When that didn’t work she began dancing with Dylan. Miranda could feel the tides changing. I felt sorry for her as she cavorted with her ex-boyfriend, never taking her eyes off John.

“You are such a tool!” screamed a familiar voice. My eyes found Jaimie; her eyes were teary as she stumbled toward me.

“Can you take me home?” she sobbed.

“Sure,” I agreed. It was not the first drunken fight that I had to help Jaimie flee. John was overly supportive unaware that these disputes happened at every other party.

John agreed to follow us to Tammy’s house to ensure we were safe. I kept glancing in the rear vision mirror, grinning like an idiot at the thought of John’s cold lips pressed against mine. Tammy comforted Jaimie in the car and I tried to keep my face serious as Jaimie poured out Tim’s list of sins. I made the right comments at the right times, but my mind was with the demigod following us in the Blue Bomb.

Tammy and I helped Jaimie out of the car. She was drunker than I thought, and I was glad when John picked her up and carried her inside. When she was seated comfortably, Jaimie repeated the car conversation with added expletives and detail. John held my hand as I continued to comfort Jaimie. Having John so close made it difficult for me to concentrate as much as I usually would. I suddenly understood why Jaimie had become so involved with Tim; boys required a lot of brain space.

Tammy sprawled across a luxury lounge opposite us, as Jaimie unloaded her drunken diatribe. It was an alcohol-fueled argument rather than an actual problem; sleep and sobering up would cure it. So after commiserating the fifth time I encouraged Jaimie to bed. I was so keen to be alone with John I just about tucked Jaimie and Tammy into their respective beds. After making sure they both had water and buckets, I descended the stairs with my heart on my sleeve. I hoped that he hadn’t changed his mind about me, but when I entered the room his smile told me that we were a couple.