My Escape Chapter 3

**Okay, so I know the first part is a little boring, but once you get towards the end, some stuff with Oliver happens. Thanks for the comments, guys! Hope you like it! Oh, and it's really long :)**

My dad was-of course!-waiting for me again as soon as I walked in through the doorway. Our house wasn’t exactly beautiful. When our mom had died my dad had sort of let himself go. He gotten a new job at the local fast food joint alongside my brother-yeah, it is pretty hilarious; my brother hates him-and gained twenty pounds. There was also an endless supply of Bud Light in his fridge.
He had nothing to worry about though because neither of his two kids drank. I thought it was a stupid thing that you got nothing out of and my brother didn’t want to get a beer belly. My brother was totally superficial. He didn’t listen to the music he really liked because he knew no one at school liked it. He only dated blonde girls even though I knew he had a crush on this red head mathlete.
My brother went to at least two house parties a week and almost got arrested for mooning the old lady that lives by the pharmacy. He nearly gave her a heart attack-literally.

So you see my home life wasn’t exactly the best. But it was what I had so I dealt with it. And if that meant crying myself to sleep some nights, then oh well. I did find the best concealer to get rid of the bags though.
"Hey dad. Shouldn’t you be at work?" I asked him and then walked into the kitchen. As always, there were empty cereal bowls and coke cans littering the island in the middle. And also as always, I picked them up myself and then shoved them into the dishwasher.
He said, "I took the day off. Your brother is going to work my shift."
"Do you feel sick?" I called out, even though I already knew the answer. My dad never got sick, but his excuse always was…
"Sick in the head," he repeated for the millionth time and I just rolled my eyes at him. I mean, I know that my dad always had a lot to think about. His wife of twenty years had committed suicide right in front of him. That was enough for someone to be locked into a nut house.

But my dad got through it for the most part. Other than not speaking to us that much and rarely ever going to work, he was fine. Oh and he never cooked anymore either even though he used to own his own four-star restaurant down town. With my dad’s cooking, it so could have been five stars. But ever since my mom’s "accident" he had given up his dream of being a famous chef.
"So…I was thinking tacos for dinner. Is that okay?" I asked him. Oh, and did I mention that ever since he stopped cooking, the spatula has been passed down to me? I was basically the maid/cook around the house. And when living with my dad and my brother, I usually had to double recipes.
"Sure!" he said and then I heard the volume on the TV go up. My dad always watched TV so that he could drown out his real life with someone else’s. His favorite time was around one in the afternoon to four in the afternoon because that was when all of the soap operas came on. Yeah, you heard right, my dad watches soap operas.
After cleaning the kitchen and then grabbing myself a can of coke, I walked up the stairs into my room. I pulled out my calculus book and then started reading over the formulas that we would be using this week.

I studied until my head hurt and then after that, I hopped into my car and headed off to the local supermarket.
The closest grocery store to us wasn’t exactly Wal-Mart. It didn’t sell clothes designed by the latest tween queen and it didn’t have a nail salon inside. It was food and food alone. There were also the trashy tabloids that no one ever read.
I grabbed a buggy from the friendly old man by the front entrance and then headed straight for the aisle with the Taco Kits. Yeah, I did cook, but it didn’t mean that I cooked the hard way; when it came to cooking, I always took the easy way out. I didn’t have time to slave over a meal. I really needed to be doing my schoolwork.
Luckily not many people were even at the store-most people had better things to do on a Saturday night-so the check out lines weren’t very long. I was stuck in line behind this lady who was desperate to use her coupons and I was so close to telling her off. But then someone standing behind me distracted me.

"Hey Kara," Jameson said from behind me. Jameson was on the school newspaper and he was the only one I could depend on to turn something in on time. Probably because he was beyond shy so he never really did anything on the weekends. He had floppy orange hair, glasses, and freckles that looked like they belonged to a farm girl.
"Hi Jameson," I greeted and then motioned to his buggy, "Starving?" His buggy was chopped full of junk food. I could never see Jameson eating this kind of stuff seeing as how he was beyond skinny but just the sight of his purchases made my mouth water: Twinkies, oatmeal cream pies, potato chips…The list went on and on.
He shook his head and told me, "My sister is having a slumber party tonight and there isn’t enough food to last them very long. It’s either buy them food or get make up smeared on my face while I sleep, so…"
I laughed and said, "I’d much rather drive five minutes then get lipstick all over my face- even if I am a girl."
He smiled and then I heard the cashier say, "Excuse me miss."
I turned around and noticed that the lady with the coupons had already left. "Sorry about that," I said, and then placed everything I had bought on the conveyer belt.
It took only a few seconds for me to buy everything and I was so glad that I could go home. I waved goodbye to Jameson and then hurried out of the market.

At dinner that night everything was silent; just like always. We tried to avoid looking at the empty chair opposite my dad but it was as if we had to. You’d think after two years, we’d get over it, but it wasn’t exactly something you got used to.
My brother tried to make conversation by saying, "I’ve got a big game on Friday."
I rolled my eyes at the topic that always came up and then took another bite of my soft taco. My dad said, "Oh, that’s great," but it sounded as if he were distracted so Greg just frowned and then picked at his fourth taco of the night.
Dinner was probably the worst time at our house. Greg was rarely ever home and when he was, we had to sit at the table to eat as a family. But when Greg wasn’t home, my dad and I would eat in different rooms. And since Greg had worked two shifts today, he was exhausted and not in the mood the go party.
When everyone was finished eating, the two of them left their plates on the kitchen table for me to clean up-of course. My dad once again became a couch potato and I heard loud music coming from Greg’s room. This was what my family had resorted to; three people who barely knew each other.

The next time I saw Oliver was at the mall was the next Friday night. He was with Chris from the diner and a blonde girl that kept a permanent hold on Chris’ arm. I was shocked to see no girl on Oliver’s arm. He had always seemed like the type of guy who had a different girl with him every night. I was usually never wrong in making judgments about people.
Later that same night, Claire and I were browsing in Hot Topic. I was too busy getting dirty looks from people to even look around. That was one of the things I hated about this store. Not only did it sell way too many Twilight products, it also had employees who gave you dirty looks if you weren’t wearing any black or had no piercings.
I had been counting how many Twilight T-shirts they had when Oliver and Chris stopped in front of the store to look inside. I tried to squeeze by one of the clothing racks to that he wouldn’t spot me, but it was already too late.

Chris spotted me and pointed me out to Oliver as "the rival’s sister". Wow, I already had a nickname. Nice. Oliver laughed and then walked over to where I was standing in the clothing rack. My heart rate increased just at the sight of his face and my mind started conjuring up dirty thoughts again.
"You never called," he said, smiling. "But I did get a few calls from girls who told me my number was in the girl’s bathroom."
"I thought that since I wasn’t desperate enough to give you any, maybe you’d want another desperate girl."
He placed his hand on his heart and then said, "Ouch. Kara, you cut me deep."
"Not deep enough," I muttered and then looked around the store. I saw Claire rummaging through a shelf of spiked necklaces and she had a smile on her face. She was laughing at the horrible situation at hand.
He removed his hand from his chest and said, "I’ve got two ideas. One, I follow you around the entire mall all night telling everyone we pass that the two of us are madly in love. Or two, you come with me for half an hour and I won’t annoy the hell out of you. Which do you choose?"

"Do any of these options have the possibility of you falling off a cliff?"
He gave me a toothy grin and shook his head. God, he looked adorable when he did that. He probed, "Come on…" in a high-pitched voice. "Do I need to tell the worker here how we’re soul mates who bonded over a piece of pumpernickel bread or are you going to stop being so God damned stubborn and just give in to what you really want?"
"You know…one day your head is going to get so big that it explodes…can you please video tape it for me?"
"Kinky," he joked and then grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the clothing rack. He called out to Chris, "I’ll catch up with you later, man!"
Chris nodded, winked at me, and then he and the blonde girl walked away. "You’re not coming with me," I warned him.
"That’s what you think," he pointed out and then told Claire who had just walked up, "Me and my lover are going for a walk. You want to come?"
Claire shook her head and then told me, "Just call when you two are done screwing around, alright? I think Tom is at the food court."
I shot her a look that I hoped said "go to Hell" and then watched in horror as she walked away from me. She was so not my best friend anymore. She had just left me alone with a guy I was two minutes away from shooting!
Oliver looked down at me and asked, "Now, are you going to walk all by yourself like a big girl or do I need to hold your hand?"

I rolled my eyes and confirmed, "Half an hour. Any later than that and your head will be the next new bowling ball at Lucky Strike down the street."
He chuckled and then started walking out of the gothic store. I fell into step beside him and felt a light bead of sweat break out along my neck. Why did being near him overheat my body? Maybe there was some kind of answer in my Biology II textbook at home. I would have to look it up when I got home.
He started, "So I know your name, your brother, and that you are picturing me naked…what else?"
I rolled my eyes and then decided to ignore the whole naked comment, partly because it was true. I just wasn’t going to admit that to him. "What do you want to know?"
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen; will be eighteen in two months."
"Sports?"
"Nope."
"Drinker?"

"Nope. I’m not an alcoholic like the person who’s playing twenty questions with me."
"I’m going to ignore the alcoholic comment," he said as we sat down on a bench outside by the fountains. I hadn’t even noticed that we were heading outside. He said, "We can play another game. I’m up for strip poker."
"How about not? Besides, hasn’t it been thirty minutes already?" I needed to get away from him because he was sitting so close that it made me feel like all my nerve endings were on fire. It felt like I wasn’t in control of my body and I needed to be in control.
He pulled his cell phone and said, "Only five minutes. I’ve got twenty-five more."
I groaned and then he asked, "Who’d you know at the party? Or were you just there because you’ve heard so many things about me and just had to kiss me?"
"You attacked me!" I argued and then told him, "My best friend Claire was there with her boyfriend and made me go." I really needed to hit her for doing that too, by the way. Because of her, I was being harassed by an infuriating boy who made weird things happen to my body.
"Is your best friend the one who gave us lovers our privacy at the diner last weekend?"
I turned to face him and once again realized how close his face was to mine. If I moved half an inch, we would have had a repeat of what had happened at that party last weekend. Too bad I didn’t want that to happen; well, I kind of did, but there was no way it was going to. "We are not lovers!" I told him.
"Then why do you want to kiss me right now?" he asked, his gaze falling down to my lips. Holy shit, was he a mind reader too? Or was he just really, really cocky and thought that every girl in the world wanted to kiss him? I decided it was the latter of the two.

"You are so…"
He cut me off by grinning, "Sexy, talented…"
"I was going to say infuriating!" I spat, but then he cupped the back of my head. One word escaped me lips before they met with his in a heated kiss, "No…"
This time he was sober so it meant that he actually tasted good. He no longer had the sour taste of alcohol lingering on his lips; now he tasted like mint. That just made everything so much worse. Oliver was sexy. Oliver was talented; well, at kissing anyway. I had never actually seen him play football. But he was definitely talented at making me want to kiss him back.
Even though I knew he would make fun of kissing him back, I couldn’t stop myself. I mean, I knew that other people were probably out here, and I had always thought that public displays of affection were disgusting, but I just couldn’t stop. His hands moved around to cup my face, and if at all possible, he brought it closer to his.

If my nerve endings had been on fire a while ago, they were now shooting cannons. I wasn’t able to control myself and for once, I liked the feeling. His tongue pressed lightly against my bottom lip, seeking permission to enter, and that made me shiver. Of course, I let him in and our tongues met in a playful embrace. I pulled mine away from his and he groaned a little. The sound made me snap out of my Oliver-filled daze and head right back into reality.
My eyes flew open and I pushed hard against his chest. His mouth tore away from mine and when he saw me, he smiled. "See, I told you so."
I rolled my eyes at him and then jumped off of the bench. As soon as I was off, though, I was missing his body next to mine. No, I wasn’t going to let myself act like this. I tried to run away from him, but he caught up to me in a matter of seconds. He grabbed my waist from behind and then turned me around.
I could see the mall from here and I could see the people happily shopping. How I wished to be one of those people right now. He pointed out, "I still have fifteen minutes."

Shit. I had kissed him for ten minutes? I was such a slut. Then he pointed something else out, "I play sports and you don’t. I’m pretty sure I could outrun you. Look, I won’t touch you again. I promise. Let’s just…talk."
My eyes flickered to his face, expecting to be met with joking eyes, but instead, they were completely serious. He really wanted to just talk. "About what? I have nothing to say to you."
"Kara, you just made out with me. We could talk about that. I really like your choice in chap stick."
"Ugh!" I pivoted around, but then he caught me by the elbow.
"I was just kidding. God! I want to know more about you. Come on…you fascinate me." This time I was positive he was making fun of me. I didn’t fascinate him; I didn’t fascinate anybody. "Please…" he begged, folding his hands together in a pleading motion.
I rolled my eyes and then said, "Fine. Fifteen minutes."
He beamed and I felt my heart flip-flop a little bit. He grabbed my hand, trying to be friendly, but I jerked it out of his embrace. "No touching," I commanded him, and then sat down as far away as possible on the bench. "Now…what do you want to know about my fascinating self?"

"Do you have a job?"
"Other than cooking and cleaning for my piggish family, no."
"Who else is there? I know of your brother."
I sighed and said, "Him and my dad."
"Mom?" he asked. It was a perfectly harmless question, but it still made me want to cut his throat. He had no right to ask about her.
I said tightly, "Brother and dad. That’s it." Apparently, I looked pissed enough, so he decided not to further the topic. "You?" I asked, trying to get the attention away from me. I couldn’t talk to him about my mom. I would never talk to him about my mom. I hadn’t even told Claire about my mom. All I told her was that my mom died; case closed. I hadn’t given her any details other than that.
"I’m an only child and my parents are getting a divorce-next." By the way his eyebrow when he spoke about his family, I could tell it was a touchy subject for him too. "Or do I get to ask you a question next?"
"What’s your favorite thing about football?" I asked him, rattling off the first thing that came to mind when I looked at him. As long as the questions weren’t directed at me, I was fine. Even if I was with the devil himself.

"Being able to smash heads in without getting in trouble," he admitted with a goofy smile on his face. I couldn’t help but smile back. Gah! Why was I acting like such a girly-girl around him? How come every time I looked at his mouth, I got butterflies in my stomach? How come every time he smiled or laughed, I wanted to smile or laugh along? "What do you do at school? Everyone does something."
"I’m editor of the newspaper," I told him. The newspaper was one thing that I actually could talk about. Never ask me about my home life, but if you ask me about my school life, I can talk about it for hours.
"Wow…impressive," he said and then playfully rubbed his chin. "What do…"
I held my hand up to stop him. "My turn, remember? Favorite food?"
"Steak and potatoes." I rolled my eyes at his typical boy food choice and then he pointed out, "I’ve seen you roll your eyes at me tonight more than anyone has in my entire life. You know, your eyes could get stuck back there."
"Sure," I scoffed.
"See I’m not so bad? I bet you haven’t even thought about how much longer we had together."

"You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?" I asked him and then I noticed something. When I had sat back down a while back, I had distanced myself a good two feet away from him. So why was I now sitting right next to him with our legs touching each other?
"I’m getting there," he informed me and then looked down at our legs. He was noticing the same thing that I just had. Of course, this made him break into a toothy grin that I wanted to slap off of his face. He chuckled and said, "I do know that you want to kiss me again before we leave."
"If it’s the kiss of death, then sure, I’ll kiss you."
He laughed and said, "I’ve been threatened to be killed so many times by you. You do know that you don’t scare me, right? You’re not exactly threatening looking."
I rolled my eyes and when he saw, he pointed at me and laughed. Not exactly helping squashing any thoughts I had of killing him. Why did he have to piss me off so bad? "And you know…" he started, "You never denied it."
"Denied what?"

"Wanting to kiss me again; you even mentioned kissing me again! See, it’s all you can think about. Thoughts about kissing me are consuming you."
So what if he was right? Maybe I did want to kiss him again but I wasn’t going to. I was going to show him that a girl could actually reject him. He wasn’t perfect like he thought he was and I was going to prove it to him. I scooted away from him and crossed my arms over my chest. "How much longer until I’m released from hell?"
He laughed and then said, "Oh I was so right. You totally dropped the subject and you’re acting all defensive. Man, am I good at reading you or what? You really do want to kiss me again."
"Not all girls are attracted to you!"
"Maybe not all girls...but you are. I can tell. You’re trying so hard not to want me, but you so do. That’s what makes everything so entertaining."
Fury raged from inside of me and I blew up. "I don’t want you! Why would I? You’re a cocky…"
He cut me off by holding up his right hand. He touched his pinky and said, "Alcoholic," he touched his pointer finger and said, "Infuriating," he touched his middle finger and said, "Molesting," and he pointed to his next finger, but I cut him off.
"I’m leaving. I can’t just sit here and watch you pass all these judgments and false accusations against me." I stood up, fixed my shirt, and then started to walk away from him.

For the millionth time since I had met him, he jogged up next to me and then grabbed me by the arm. He asked, "Well can you stand here and watch me pass all these judgments and false accusations about you?"
"Why do you have to be so God damn infuriating?"
"See! Infuriating was the pointer finger. You just don’t want to admit that I know you better then you think I do."
"Look, I’ve known you a week. If by a week, I know that I can’t stand you, doesn’t that mean something? It means I can’t stand you! Now move! I’m pretty sure half an hour is up."
"Maybe you can’t stand the fact that you want me but you can’t be with me because you have so much other stuff going on. You’re afraid that I will be too big of a distraction."

How the hell did he read my mind like that? It was like I was a book on his shelf or something. I huffed and he smirked when he realized how right he was because for once, I didn’t have a comeback to that one. He was actually dead on about that one.
"See?" he said; a condescending smile on his face. He took a step forward and when he slipped his arms around my waist, I didn’t object. He just didn’t know what was next. I smiled at him, urging him to continue, and when I did, he looked shocked. But he went along with it.

When he finally bent his face towards mine to kiss me, I slapped him across the face. "Stay the fuck away from me!" I ordered before he could say something and then jogged back into the mall.
I whipped my cell phone out of my purse, ignoring the guilt and regret itching at the back of my mind, and dialed Claire’s number. "Where are you?" she answered bluntly on the first ring.
"I’ll meet you by the food court," I told her and then hung up the phone. I knew that Tom would be there and that they’d be itching to be alone, but right now, I couldn’t care less. I needed to get home; I couldn’t stand to be around this place anymore.