My Escape Chapter 4

**I've got to get off the computer in like two seconds...so hope you enjoy and please comment!**

The next morning I had to go to the school’s football game. We were playing a team from upstate and if we won this game, we would have a chance to play in the championships. All in all, it was a really big game and even though I would much rather stay home and think about last night, I simply had to go.
It wasn’t that I had been thinking about last night that much…I had been thinking about it all the time. I could still feel Oliver Carter’s hands in my hair, cupping my face, and I hated how much I wanted a replay. But when I thought about how much I had going on in my life, I realized that I really couldn’t even spent time thinking about him.
When I walked downstairs, my dad was in the kitchen sipping coffee and my brother was eating his game day breakfast: scrambled eggs and bacon. They didn’t even notice me as I walked into the room wearing my fluffy red robe and slippers.

I grabbed myself a cup of coffee and then sat down next to my brother. Every morning I read the paper not to see what was going on locally, but to see how the articles were written. I know it made me sound like a complete loser who was way too obsessed but I really wanted to be a reporter when I grew up.
My brother asked, "Your going to the game right, dad?"
My dad sighed and said, "I’ll try."
Greg took another sip of his orange juice and then muttered under his breath, "That means a no."
I grimaced and I instantly felt bad for Greg. Even though he put on this facade where he couldn’t stand my father, I knew he truly did care. He wanted our dad to be along the others at the stadium cheering on their sons. But my dad wasn’t exactly like that; he would much rather vegetate in front of the couch on Saturday night.
My dad said, "Kara, I’m going to need you to go to the store today. We’re almost out of toilet paper."

I sighed and asked, "Why couldn’t you have told me yesterday? I have stuff to do today."
My dad gave me that look--the one that said he was exhausted and just wanted me to say yes--and I immediately caved. I sighed and said, "Fine." I hated that look; he gave it to me all the time when he wanted me to do something. It always reminded me how much pain he had gone through and I couldn’t stand to look at him like that.
Writing an article and starting on a book report would just have to wait. I took another sip of my coffee and then after putting everyone’s dishes in the sink, I ran up the stairs into the bathroom that Greg and I had to share. I took my hair out of the clip and let it fall against my back. I slipped off my robe and my pajamas and then climbed into a scalding hot shower.
I had so much to do today and I really wasn’t up for it. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night thanks to a certain cocky football player and I knew I was going to be awake for at least fifteen hours.

As I massaged my shampoo into my hair thoughts of last night flooded back into my system. I pictured Oliver sitting way too close to me and driving me insane with his stupid comments. I pictured him leaning in close to me and then capturing my lips in an intense kiss.
All of a sudden, I had to switch the water in the shower to cold. I cursed inwardly at myself for having those kinds of thoughts and tried to force Oliver’s face away from my memory.
When I finally got out of my shower, I rubbed the fog off of the mirror and then looked at myself. I didn’t look any different. You’d think that when becoming a slut, you would look different, but obviously I already looked like a slut.
I wrapped my robe around me again and then quickly walked into my bedroom; not wanting my brother to see me just about naked. He would take a picture of me with his cell phone and then forward it to everyone at school. That was just how evil he was.

I had to arrive at the game two hours early so that I could talk to the football players before the game. They started warming up an hour and a half before the game and I wasn’t allowed to talk to them then. The sponsor of the paper loved it when I had player interviews so now I had them all of the time. And I was sure that the student body didn’t want to just hear from my brother, so I had to talk to all of them.
All of our players were lining up on the field so that they could start getting ready for practice. They all looked to weigh thirty pounds heavier because of all of the pads they had to wear. It was a funny sight, really. The coach saw me on the sidelines of the field and rolled his eyes at me; well that was sweet of him.

You’d think he’d get used to me showing up every game but he never really did. Coach McDonald was a chubby guy with hair only on the sides of his heads. He wasn’t married and he looked like the kind of guy who looked up porn frequently. I couldn’t stand to be around him because he checked out all of the girl students and I had been told that he had tried to look up my skirt a few times.
"Hurry it up, Gregory!" he yelled at me. All coaches at my school called me by my last name. It was like Kara Gregory didn’t exist; just Gregory.
"Sure!" I exclaimed and then jogged over to the only guy who I hadn’t put in the paper before. His name was Bud Jeffrey and his main hobby was drinking tequila; well, that, and apparently talking about me in the locker room.

My brother had told me once that Bud had went on a fifteen minute rant on how good he thought I’d be in my bed. My brother had decked him when he hadn’t shut up. I still couldn’t look at Bud without cringing. All six foot five of him was perverted. I pulled out my voice recorder and asked him, "How do you think the game will turn out?"
"Dude, they ain’t got nothing on us," he boasted and then high-fived with the guy standing next to him. I rolled my eyes but was secretly glad he had said that. Students loved it when they heard how stupid other students sounded when talking.
"Well they’re undefeated. Does that make you worried?" I asked into the voice recorder. All of these questions were standard procedure. I asked them every game and then marveled at how similar all of the answers were. But every game I would throw in a random question so that people wouldn’t get bored.
"Hells no!" he said and then grunted a little bit. Wow.

"If y’all do when, how do you plan on celebrating?" I asked him, dreading his answer. I knew it was going to be vulgar and I really hoped it didn’t involve me.
He smirked at the guy standing next to him and said, "Depends on whether or not you’re free tonight."
I rolled my eyes and then told him, "This is going in the paper."
"Oh…well then, I’ll be going to church…" he joked, earning a laugh from the guys surrounding us.
"Nice," I said and then turned off the voice recorder. I shouted to the coach, "Thanks coach!" and then jogged off of the field. I grabbed my tote bag off of the bleachers and then slipped my voice recorder in.
Even though it was just a stupid football field, I always loved the smell of it before a game. Before the game you didn’t smell the weed or the cigarette smoke; all you smelled was the cleanly cut grass and the fresh air. This was something that you didn’t get to see or smell everyday; it was rare. Teenagers always ruined everything. That was why I walked slowly to my car.
When I did slide into the warm interior of my car, I turned on my favorite radio station and then drove out of the parking lot. There was no way I was going to sit at that stadium for two hours until the game started. Sometimes--whenever Claire wasn’t messing around with Tom--Claire would come to the stadium with me and we would talk for the two hours, but she was busy tonight.

In twenty minutes, I was pulling into the parking lot at the local Taco Bell. Not many people from school came here so I was safe from having to deal with them. I wasn’t one of those people who went out looking for people from my school; I avoided them. The people at my school were far too immature for me to deal with patiently.
I parked my car and then turned off the engine. I swung open the front door and placed my feet on the pavement. As I walked in through the side door, a few people looked at me with mere curiosity and I rolled my eyes. If they had to look at me for entertainment, they were seriously deprived.
It was while I was waiting by the drink dispenser for my food to be called that it had happened. I felt a firm grip on my waist and someone’s husky voice whispered in my hair, "Fancy meeting you here."
I sensed Oliver’s cocky smile within milliseconds. How come ever since that party he had shown up everywhere I had? I mean, really, what are the odds that he was at this Taco Bell at this very hour. Was fate trying to be cruel?
"What? Are you stalking me now?" I sneered, turning around and backing a good two feet away from him. I couldn’t breathe his air, couldn’t smell his cologne. It would drive me crazy.

He smirked and countered, "Or maybe you’re stalking me. I mean, you did show up here after me."
I rolled my eyes and said, "I would never waste any of my time stalking you."
"Well after last night, I’d beg to differ," he added with a toothy grin.
"Last night?" I asked, trying to persuade him that it had never happened. "I studied all last night. I never saw you. You were probably drunk and having hallucinations."
He frowned at the drunken part and then said, "You know we saw each other last night. Well, we more than just saw each other, actually."
My cheeks flushed; it wasn’t going to work. He was too damn smart. "Do you remember what else happened last night? The part when I slapped you and said ‘stay away from me’?"
"Your exact words were ‘stay the fuck away from me’ actually."
"Order 52!" the worked at the counter announced. I pushed by Oliver, grabbed my tray, and then walked over to an empty table by the window. I grabbed my iPod out of my tote bag and then jammed the ear plugs in my ears. Oliver wasn’t messing with me tonight. I couldn’t afford to be distracted tonight; I had to work.

A loud guitar solo sounded as I took a sip of my coke and then ripped open my taco paper. I was taking out my frustration on my food which wasn’t exactly healthy, but it was better than the little kids sitting at the table behind me. I bit a large bite of the taco and then chewed on it, trying to focus on what I was going to have to do at the game tonight.
I was going to have to repeat everything happening into my voice recorder, see what songs the band was playing, see what cheers the cheerleaders were doing…my thoughts were interrupted by a shadowed figure scooting next to me into the booth. I looked over at him and then bit my tongue. I wasn’t going to say anything to him; that would just egg him on.
I shoved another bite in my mouth and then turned my face away from him. Looking at him wasn’t exactly helping either. I turned up the sound on my new green iPod and then switched songs.
At first I thought that he would just leave, but no such luck. He actually nestled his head on my shoulder and blew on my ear, causing me to have to grip the table for support. How did he have this effect on me? I felt him chuckle and I ripped my ear phones out of my ears and asked, "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Everything," he whispered lowly, seductively. To tell you the truth, I wanted to give him everything. Right here, right now, at this stupid Taco Bell. I would have too if I hadn’t had such self control. I knew that giving up-giving in-to him would cause nothing but problems. So that’s why I didn’t.
"How about a foot in your ass?"
He laughed and said, "Kinky."
I huffed and then crossed my arms over my chest. I turned away from him and then took a sip of my coke, enjoying the feeling it brought to my suddenly dry throat. Did Oliver make my throat dry too? Was there something he couldn’t do to my body?
He sighed next to me and then ran his pinky finger down my arm, leaving a trail of fire. I had to squeeze my tote bag handles not to grab something of his-like his hair and drag his face to mine like I wanted.

"So what are you doing tonight?" he asked me, his voice suddenly not taunting anymore.
"Nothing."
"Really? Because I hear there’s a football game at your school tonight. And wouldn’t the editor of the school paper be there?"
I tried to ignore the pleasant feeling his remembering my being the editor and said, "Yeah, I’m going to the game."
"Would you like some company?"
"Nope," I confirmed and then took another big bite of my taco. I looked at it and frowned; I only had a third of it left. I wasn’t going to have an excuse to not talk anymore.
"You know…you might as well just give up trying not to want me."
"Arrogant much?"

"No, observant. Like when I blew on your ear, you had to hold onto the table. And then when I ran my finger down your arm you had to hold on to your bag. You know, I’d much rather you just grab on to me." He said this with a smile on his face, but there was something serious in his eyes. I just didn’t want to spend forever trying to decipher what it was.
"I’ll grab your neck until you turn purple," I compromised.
He stuck his tongue out at me and said, "Well, I’m going to the game anyways. Coach wants us to check out the competition. We could save the planet and you could give me a ride."
"I won’t be able to concentrate with you in the car," I accidentally blurted out. I knew he was going to have a field day with that comment.
"And why is that? Because you have to stare at my beauty instead of stop signs or because you’ll be trying to kiss me and drive?" See what I meant? It was like I knew exactly what he would say if I said something.
"No, because I’ll want to rip your head off instead of driving. Who are you here with anyways? I don’t see Chris."

As if on cue, a cute Taco Bell female employee walked over to our table. She had blonde hair, pristine blue eyes, and a full chest. Her name tag said "Holly" and when she saw me looking at her, she gave me a seething look and then turned towards Oliver, "I’m on my break now."
I laughed and said, "Figures." Of course he would be here to pick up girls. I was just another conquest for him. Too bad I wasn’t going to give in like it looked like Holly would.
Oliver told her, "I’ll be there in a sec." She pouted and then after giving me one final glance, she walked away. I watched her seat herself at a table in the corner and then heard Oliver tell me, "We’re not dating…"
"Of course you’re not. You wouldn’t be a man-whore if you had a girlfriend, right? I mean it’s really classy of you hitting on another girl while one who obviously has it for you bad is working not five feet away. You’re a real gentleman," I lectured at him while rolling up my garbage. Avoiding all eye contact was a must; his chocolate brown eyes had some kind of magical force over me.

"What is your problem? She asked me at school on Friday to come and see her and so I was nice enough to see her. Is that such a problem?" he asked me, looking sincerely angered. Boo hoo, one girl didn’t like him-he would live.
"That’s not the problem. It’s you sitting here practically begging me to make out with you while she’s waiting for you," I argued back. Who did he think he was? I mean, really, it was bad enough that he was talking to me. But now I had to learn some other girl was waiting for him.
He rolled his eyes and pointed out, "I am a guy, you know. And you’re a hot girl, believe it or not, and I like hanging around you. It’s quite entertaining. Holly’s a friend."
I tried to ignore him calling me hot, but really, it made me blush. I really didn’t think I was hot and he was probably just trying to get in my pants, but it still made me happy. That’s not horrible of me, is it? I said, "Well, you shouldn’t keep your friend waiting."
He sighed, running his hands through his dark brown hair. He asked, "Will I see you tonight?"

"Probably not," I told him coldly.
"I’ll keep my eyes open," he said with a smile. After that I thought it was over, but it wasn’t. He had to press his delicious lips against my cheek, blow in my ear once more, and then he left. When I looked at my hand, I realized my fingers were curled tightly around my tote bag handles again. Agh!
But the upside was that when his body heat disappeared from my side, I was finally able to think clearly. I needed to leave this place and never go out in public again. It seemed as if any where I went Oliver turned up, and I couldn’t have that anymore.
I didn’t watch as he walked over to Holly’s table because I knew the kind of look she would give me. It would be full of jealousy and hatred that she really doesn’t need to contain because there was nothing to be jealous of.

The door pushed forward thanks to the force from my hand and the clean air hit me. You’d think that the air outside of the Taco Bell wouldn’t be clean, but at least it didn’t smell like cheap Mexican food. I strode over to my car and angrily jerked the car door open.
Oliver was not having a good influence on me; he was distracting me from my duties as newspaper editor. I should have been thinking about the article-mentally typing it in my head-instead of arguing with him.
Before leaving the parking lot, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and let the leather do its magic. Maybe it would help me calm my nerves, but probably not. I closed my eyes and pictured Oliver rubbing his pinky up and down Holly’s arm. Would it be the same for him as rubbing up and down my arm? Would he be happier flirting with her? I hated to admit that the mental picture made me insanely jealous.
I looked over at the clock and noticed that I had fifteen minutes until the game started. "Shit," I cursed out loud and then jerked the gear into reverse. I was leaving the Taco Bell within seconds and I then vowed to myself that I would never go there again.