My Escape Chapter 13 (Part 2)

**I know, I know! I took forever! I'm so sorry, but this chapter is really long so I hope that makes up for it! Anyways, thanks for all of the comments! The fact that you take time out of your day to leave me a little note totally makes my day :)) Hope you enjoy! Oh, and the picture is of Oliver. Well, who I picture him to be anyways. What do you think?!**

The game was in full swing two-and-a-half hours later. Claire and I were actually standing in the students section because I told her that I wanted to try being in the middle of everything.
In all of my articles, I hadn’t exactly described the atmosphere of the students section and I really wanted to try. It seemed like the perfect thing to do.

And it was a freaking blast. You weren’t able to hear yourself talk because the screaming was so loud. You could smell the body paint coming off of the drunk guys standing on the bleacher in front of us.
Since the band was sitting on the section right next to us, we could hear them perfectly. It wasn’t like sitting in the parents section where it was actually about the football. In the students section, it was about kicking the other team’s ass. It was about screaming as loud as you could.

It was cool how when Claire and I had walked up the stairs to get onto the bleachers, people hadn’t looked at us like we were out of place. All of the students just banded together to scream for our team and that was it. It was pretty surreal.
For once, I didn’t feel like Kara Gregory: editor of the newspaper. I actually felt like a student at Eastwood High. And that was what the championship game was all about.

Westwood won. It had been the fourth quarter, scores tied, and Westwood had the ball. The anticipation, nervousness, and excitement coming from the Eastwood side of the stadium were crazy. I hadn’t even been able to hear myself think.
And guess who had made the final touchdown of Westwood. None other than Oliver Carter. So not only did I have to play strip poker with him; I also had to listen to him gloat forever.

But I was excited for him. I had tried to hold back my scream for him, but I hadn’t been able to. So everyone in the student’s section, including Claire, had looked at me like I was traitor.
Did they not hear the shouts of excitement on the other side of the field? Besides, all of them knew that if their boyfriend had scored the winning touchdown they would be screaming too. It was a total hypocrisy.

The Westwood side of the field erupted into cheers of exhilaration. This was the first time they had ever won the championship game and they beat their main rivals. They were sure to be having parties tonight. Students rushed onto the field even though it was against the rules and Oliver was lifted onto their shoulders.

He looked to be so happy and I felt so proud. My boyfriend had won the game. Damn. Even though everyone around me was disappointed and sad, I was euphoric. I couldn’t help but beam as the trophy was presented and Oliver planted a kiss on the top of it.
He was set on the ground and all of a sudden, he started running over to our side of the field, looking through the crowd. People booed at him and shouted insults, but that didn’t stop the huge smile on his face. When he finally found me, he motioned with his hand for me to join him on the field.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. As I made my way out of the student’s section, I heard something I hadn’t expected. Almost all of the girls in our stands shouted for me. They shouted things like "you’re so lucky!" and "wow, I wish my boyfriend did that!" Some guys booed at him, but I really didn’t care.

Because I had climbed over the railing of the bleachers and he had grabbed my hand and then we had ran over the fake grass into the middle of the field where all of Westwood was celebrating. When he did that; when he had shown me off to his entire school, I knew fully well that I could trust him. He really did like me.

He wasn’t using me just to get in my pants and he really did like sharing things with me. The revelation made me fill with so much happiness that I would explode. My heart widened inside of my chest as soon as Oliver picked me up and planted a kiss on my lips.
The entire Westwood student body shouted for us and I couldn’t help but blush. People loved Oliver; they really did. People looked up to my boyfriend and some guys worshiped him. He ruled the school now; he was practically royalty at Westwood. And he had picked me to be with him.
Damn.

Eventually, everyone from Westwood was asked to get off the field so that the crew could start to clean. Oliver was slapping people’s hands, screaming, and getting congratulated, but not once did he lose the hold on my hand. So many people were begging for his attention and he did give some to them.
But it seemed like I was his number one priority. Wow. When we got near the outside door for the locker rooms, he kissed me again and said, "Wait for me outside, alright?" He looked so exultant, that it was hard to be mad that I had lost the bet. In fact, that was the last thing on my mind.

I nodded; he beamed for the millionth time tonight, gave me another quick kiss, and then followed the other players into the locker room. When the door to the locker room swung shut, I couldn’t help but smile.
"You are so lucky," someone cooed from behind me.

I whirled around and faced Ashley Harrison, head cheerleader for Eastwood. She had light brown hair, blue eyes, and one of the most perfect faces ever at our school. She was one of those girls that was nice to everybody and never had a bad day; the kind of person who had great grades and who seemed like she had a perfect life. She had even dated my brother at one point so we had chatted for a bit. She really was nice.

It was funny, though, how she was supposed to be for Eastwood, yet she thought I was so lucky for dating Oliver. I guessed Oliver had more power than I even realized. But tonight; tonight had shown me how much people really did like him.
"Thanks," I told her with a smile. I really was lucky and I was just now starting to realize how truly lucky I was.

She nodded, smiled again, and then ran off when she spotted one of her friends. Students from either school shuffled past me, chatting excitedly with friends or mumbling how Westwood had somehow cheated. Those people made me roll my eyes.
"Kara?" a familiar voice asked me. I looked up and came face-to-face with my father. Words couldn’t even express how shocked I was to see his face. My dad had never left the house for anything other than work. So seeing him at a football game was astounding.
"Dad!" I exclaimed, and then gave him a hug. I was on such an adrenaline rush at the moment that it seemed wrong not to hug him.

I wondered what had changed his mind, but then I thought: why question it? It was obviously a miracle and I decided not to ask why it had happened. I was so glad it had though. Greg must have been ecstatic.
He pulled away from me and asked, "Was that guy your boyfriend? The one you ran out on field with?"

I blushed furiously and then nodded. My dad had so much catching up to do. Not only did he not know I was dating Oliver, he didn’t know Greg was in love with Leslie, and he didn’t know that I had run away. My dad was so out of the loop that it wasn’t even funny.
He said, "We’ll talk about it at home," and then walked away from me. He probably knew that I wanted to be with my friends and not him. Well, at least he wasn’t totally lost.
"I cannot believe you ran onto that field," Claire said as she walked up to me. Tom was standing with her, his arm suction-cupped around her back. The two would die if they weren’t touching someway or another.

I couldn’t help but break out into a smile. "He made me, okay?" Even though running out onto the field had been a highlight of my life, I wasn’t going to admit it. If I admitted that I had a blast cheering for Westwood then people at my school would shun me.
She rolled her eyes and said, "It looked like you thoroughly enjoyed it."
"Well, that’s not what we’re going to tell people, alright?" I told them, trying to look stern.
Tom chuckled and said, "You’re going to be public enemy number one at that school now. You do realize that, right?"

"Not to me," Oliver said right before he stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Well, that hadn’t taken him very long.
I rolled my eyes at him - he wasn’t able to see because he was standing behind me - and said, "Well your opinion doesn’t count."
Tom slapped palms with Oliver and said, "Great game, man." Tom also went to Westwood, so he was allowed to praise him. I, on the other hand, wasn’t. I was dreading to see what Jessie would do Monday at school.
Oliver told him, "Thanks," and then told me, "And I need my prize now. I won the bet."
Shit.

In all of the excitement from the game and running out onto the field, I had totally forgotten about the bet. Now I was going to have to play strip poker. As much as I was willing to see him without a shirt, I wasn’t ready for him to see me naked. Claire grinned and asked, "What’d you bet?"
Just as Oliver was about to tell her, I said quickly, "Oreos. I have to give him Oreos when we get back to his house."

Claire’s eyes perked up. She probably thought that since I would be going to his house, we would be getting it on. And she was kind of right too seeing as how Oliver’s prize was…strip poker. Oliver chuckled and then told them, "So we need to be going."
We told them both goodbye and then we walked through the parking lot hand-in-hand. I asked him, "Are you sure you don’t want to celebrate with the team?" Maybe there was some way I could get him to hold off the strip poker game. Somehow or another, I would get him to give me a rain check.

He shook his head and then grinned down at me. He said, "I’d much rather play with you, not them." I blushed furiously. Before I had met Oliver, I had never blushed. I had never really gotten embarrassed because I had never put myself out there to even have the chance of humiliating myself. But Oliver made me blush all of the freaking time. And it would be totally random too. Like when we would talk about stupid things or when I would be at his house, fixing the two of us a snack. He would just randomly say these things that would make my cheeks turn crimson.

But then I thought of an idea. None of my ideas ever worked with Oliver, but this one seemed fool-proof. "If I play strip poker with you, I’m not going to do anything else. No touching, no kissing, no nothing."
His eyes widened; he wasn’t used to me saying no to physical things. I was even the instigator sometimes. "You can’t do that!" he exclaimed.
I laughed, "Oh, but I can. You said your prize was strip poker…fine. I’ll play - but nothing else. But if we don’t play…"

By this time we had reached our cars. The night was dark and humid, my hair probably frizzing in a not-so-attractive way. Wasn’t it supposed to be nearing winter? Winter wasn’t supposed to be humid; it was supposed to be cold and windy. He rested his face in between my face and my neck and muttered pathetically, "You don’t play fair."
Neither did he! Did he not notice the daily effects he had on me? I never blushed around anyone but him, I would be freezing if he was around and not touching me, and anytime he did touch me, it was like fireworks were blowing up in the pit of my stomach. And I didn’t play fair? The boy was such a hypocrite.

"Never said I did," I told him, and then twined my arms around his neck. I pulled his face closer towards mine and his eyes closed in anticipation.
I breathed, "So are we playing or not? If not, I’ll kiss you, but if so, then no such luck."
His eyes flew open and he frowned. "I hate you."
"Sure you do," I teased as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck.
He looked down at me from the open window of his shut door and said, "I’ll think about it on the way to my house. You are still coming to my house. I hope you know that."

"Well, duh," I told him, and then gave him a swift peck on the cheek. He even tried to turn his face so that I would get his mouth instead, but I still got his cheek. Hah! I loved when I was able to take charge every once in a while.
"I hate you," he repeated, but this time, he had a smile on his face.
I patted him on the cheek and said, "Sure you do," once more.
He then pulled out of his parking spot and started towards the exit. When his truck was mere feet from where I was standing, he put his arm out of his window and then flipped me the bird. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I walked over to my car.

On the drive to Oliver’s house, I tried to calm myself down. For once, I had no idea what we would be doing. The only other time I had ever been to his house, all we had done was eat popcorn, watch movies, and make-out a little bit. But tonight, I didn’t know what we would be doing.
Even though Oliver knew me like he knew himself, I was still trying to figure out his personality. If the roles had been reversed, he would have known instantaneously what I would have picked. But to me, he was still somewhat a mystery. I knew a lot about him, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t know everything. And I guess that was for the best. That meant that I every moment we spent together, I would learn something new. It was kind of exciting that way.

The route to Oliver’s house was still a little new to me - I had been there once and he had driven there - so I tried paying as much attention as I could to the road. I knew the basics: what roads to turn on and what house was his, but it was still a little blurry. And since it was dark outside, it was hard to see the road signs.
He lived in a much nicer neighborhood than me. There were actually sidewalks and street lamps for the nighttime. Just about every lawn on his road was groomed to perfection and almost every single house had a beautiful flower bed running along the house.

Oliver had told me last time I had been to his house that he had always hated his neighborhood. He had said that it was too perfect and it made him feel like he couldn’t walk around barefoot. He had said that he loved my neighborhood because it felt cozy and lived in. I had said that it was run-down and messy.
His house was two stories like mine, but his house was actually spacious and clean. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that other than mine, his car was the only one there. Were his parents ever home? But then again, that did make me feel much better. I wouldn’t have the pressure to meet his parents just yet.

Oliver had never really mentioned his parents; only the fact that they lived together and that they were never home. But what confused me was that at the mall that night, he had told me his parents had been divorced. Well, if his parents were divorced, why did they live together?

But the good thing about Oliver was that he kind of evaded talking about parents. He had asked about mine a couple of times, but when I had told him that if I talked about my parents, he’d have to talk about his, he dropped the subject. Thank God. As much as I really, really liked Oliver, I wasn’t ready to spill the details about my mom and her "accident".
He wasn’t in his truck like I had expected him to be, so I got out of my car and then walked up the front five steps to his door. His parents actually had two wicker chairs on the front porch. It was kind of adorable. I knocked on the front door about five times and when he never did answer, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I was just about positive some kind of prank was about to be pulled and I was actually kind of worried. So as soon as I opened the front door - yes it was unlocked - I yelled, "Oliver…if you’re planning anything…"
But I couldn’t even continue my threat because a large, warm hand had covered my mouth and the other had covered my eyes. I knew it! Of course he was going to be planning something.

I tried to scream, but the cloth muted any sound escaping my mouth. I tried moving my hands backwards to hit him somewhere - anywhere - but all they did was slap thin air and make me look like a retard.
He dropped the hand from my mouth and swiftly moved it to underneath my knees. He swept me up, causing me to instinctively wrap my arms around his neck so that I wouldn’t fall. "Oliver…what the hell are you doing?" I demanded, trying my hardest to sound like I was actually mad.

He chuckled and told me, "Getting my revenge. You should never make me choose between strip poker and kissing. It’s pure evil."
I stuck my tongue out at him and then I felt him start to walk up the stairs. So he was bringing me upstairs? When he had given me a tour of his house, I had noticed only four rooms upstairs: his room, his bathroom, the guestroom, and a game room with a pool table. Yes, he had a pool table. Lucky duck, right?

"Well your prize shouldn’t be something as degrading as strip poker!" I exclaimed. "And if we do play…you should know that I will be raiding your closet so I can wear as many layers as humanly possible!"
He mumbled purposely to where I could hear, "I knew I should’ve stuffed that sock in your mouth."
I moved one of the hands that had been resting at the back of his neck so that I could softly slap him against the neck. It was pretty easy to find even with my sight being screwed up thanks to his huge hand blocking my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how strong he was until now.

I mean, let’s think about this. I weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds and he was carrying me up the stairs with only one hand. Holy shit! I was lucky to be able to lift twenty-five pounds in one hand.
When he finally put me down and took his hand off of my eyes, he placed me on the futon in the game room. Originally, the game room was supposed to be the master suite but his parents wanted to be downstairs so that if Oliver ever snuck off, they’d be able to hear his truck better. So they had converted what was supposed to be the wine room and the library into their huge master suite downstairs. Oliver had told me all of this on his home tour.

The game room had been his favorite, but my favorite was still his bedroom. And no…not because of the bed! The game room not only contained the pool table, it also contained a plasma screen TV, a huge stereo system, and a treadmill so that his mom could work out.
"So is there any other punishment you want to give me?" I asked him, trying my hardest to give him a dirty look.
He sat down next to me and then picked me up and placed me on his lap. Usually, in this spot, I would make the most of it and curl up against him, but now, I just sat there like a rock. I wouldn’t even look at him.

He placed his nose against the back of my neck and murmured, "I know you’re not mad at me."
"That shows how much you know about me," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. He was going to pay for doing that to me.
He chuckled, making both of our bodies shake. We both knew how well he really knew me. He started pressing kisses all over the back of my neck and then right by my ear. I didn’t know I was squeezing his hand until he whispered tauntingly in my ear, "You’re squeezing my hand."

I blushed furiously; I hated how he had that effect on me. I let go of his hand and then told him, "It’s because I was mad at you. I was trying to make your hand pop off."
"Whatever," he scoffed, and then rubbed his fingers on the small patch of exposed skin below my shirt. My skin lit on fire at his touch, but I tried not to make it noticeable.
But then when it became too unbearable, I turned around and demanded, "Would you quit it?"
"I’m barely touching you," he teased, and then wiggled his fingers on the bare skin of my back. How could he have self control at a time like this? Here I was, about to jump his bones, and he was barely even flinching.

His face bent towards mine and he gave such a seductive smile that it should have been illegal. He whispered, "You’re trying so hard not to jump me right now, huh?"
I rolled my eyes at him and I heard him chuckle. I couldn’t take it anymore. Looking at his face was making it so much worse. So I did the only thing I could. I closed my eyes and then pressed my face against his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around me as I whispered, "I hate you."
This time his laugh was loud as he said, "Sure you do," just like I had earlier.

As I thought about what I had said earlier, I remembered why I was even here in the first place. He had won the championship game for his team. I was here to give him his prize. "Oliver…why didn’t you celebrate with the team?" I asked, knowing fully well how drastically I was changing the subject.
I turned my head to face him and he was smiling at me. But it wasn’t his evil or I’m-up-to-something smile. He did smile at me like this sometimes, but it still baffled me. He said matter-of-factly, "I’d much rather be with you. Besides, they’d have beer and stuff…and I’m trying not to get back on that stuff."

"Because of me?" I hedged playfully, bumping my shoulder against his.
"If saying that’ll make you play poker with me and kiss me then sure," he said, with that taunting smile reappearing on his face.
Oh! He had screwed himself over. I placed my hands on both of his cheeks and then brought his lips to mine. Heavenly.

But after just a second, I jumped off of his lap and clapped my hands together, "Now let’s play some poker!"
His brow furrowed; he wasn’t used to me giving in so easily. He just didn’t know that I hadn’t given in. He had said something wrong and I was so going to use it to my advantage. He slowly got up from his position on the sofa and then walked over to me.
"Are you serious?"
I smiled evilly at him and said, "That time you didn’t specify what kind of poker. So we’re playing regular poker which I am perfectly okay with."

"That is so wrong!" he exclaimed.
"But yet, so right," I teased and then jumped onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I whispered in his ear, "I know you’re not mad at me."
He turned his head to face mine and he shook his head, causing dark brown curls to cloud his eyes. "You’re an evil genius," he mused.
"Thanks," I said and then pressed a kiss against his temple. I untangled myself from his grasp and then walked over to the little table where there was a poker game set up. "And now I’m going to kick your as playing poker."