My Escape Chapter 7

**Guess what! Tomorrow morning at like 5 AM, I am going to Disney World!! Ahhh!! I'm going to be there for a week so the chapters might not come out until then. So... I'm going to publish two chapters today!!! Hope you enjoy them =) And thanks so much for the comments! You have no idea how happy they make me!**

Wednesday morning at school, that decision was taken right out of my hands. Claire rushed up to me while I was grabbing a few things out of my locker and she had exclaimed, "There’s a party on Friday and Tom’s going to be there! We have to go."
"We don’t have to do anything," I pointed out and then shut the locker door hard. For some reason I knew exactly what party and I knew exactly who would be there: a certain hot football player with a drinking problem. And that was exactly the reason I didn’t want to go.

She rolled her eyes at me and then we started walking towards our second period class. It was the only class we had together and we were always getting yelled at for talking too much. The teacher still loved me though, seeing as how I had never gotten less than a ninety-eight percent on any assignment.
She said, "You know my grandparents won’t let me go anywhere without you. It’s just one party. Find a guy, get you some."
"I’m not going to spend my Friday night getting me some," I told her as we walked into the classroom. Everyone else was already in their seats and the only two available were on opposite sides of the room.
I knew Claire wouldn’t have that and I smirked knowingly when she made her way towards a guy on the verge of falling asleep. He was sitting right next to an empty desk. She bent over to whisper in his ear and his face was suddenly filled with energy. He nodded enthusiastically at her and he hurriedly made his way towards the other empty desk.

Claire grinned at me and then motioned with her head for me to join her. "What’d you tell the guy?" I asked her as I sat down in my desk.
She joked, "I’d tell you, but then I’d have to go to confession."
I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head, laughing. Claire was so out there. She told me, "You’re going Friday night."
"Oh, and you’re going to make me, I assume?" I asked her looking around the room. The teacher needed to come in so that the conversation would cease but I didn’t see her anywhere.
She nodded and said, "You assume correctly."
"Fine," I sighed and then thought of the horror of actually showing up. Oliver would think I showed up for him and odds were he’d be hammered out of his mind like at the last party. He’d harass me the entire party and then we’d end up making out in a closet or something because I had no control when he kissed me and he knew it. I just hated how much I really did want to make out with him.
Claire smiled at me and then the teacher walked into the classroom; figures.

Friday night Claire stuck to her promise and was outside of my house by ten o’clock that night. She honked her horn loudly at the house and I scurried down the stairs. My dad was sitting in front of the TV and when he saw me wearing a skirt that ended five inches above my knees and a somewhat tight T-shirt he asked me, "Where are you going?"
"A party, I’ll be home around two," I told him and then walked out of the door. Like my dad would argue. It would probably save him from going to bed and having to think about my mom. That was probably why he never slept; he probably dreamt of my mom. I know I did.
When I got into Heinz, Claire said, "You look hot."
"Yeah, whatever," I told her and then urged her to drive. See I had come up with a plan today. I was going to look somewhat hot and maybe that would boost my confidence. Boosting my confidence would make me more immune to Oliver and more open to other guys. See? Great plan, right?

"No, really, how’d you get your eyeliner to look like that? It makes your eyes look amazing, and my eyeliner blows. Let me in on your beauty wisdom," she smiled and then pulled out of my subdivision.
But she was so wrong. Claire always looked so much better than me. Even though she was definitely a punk girl, she always looked gorgeous. Her black hair was always straightened to perfection and her blue eyes were always piercing, even through the heavy eyeliner. Her multiple piercings worked for her and her skin was perfect.
No one ever understood why we were best friends; she looked gothic and I was an overachiever. She was just the only person who I felt like myself around. "About forty-five minutes in front of the mirror," I told her and then sighed. Did I really look that different?

"Why did you get so made up? Wait," she gasped, "Is Oliver going to be there?’
"Yeah," I admitted, "But I didn’t get made up to impress him. I did it so that it would help me get rid of him."
She pointed out, "The mini-skirt sure as hell won’t repel the boy."
Yeah, maybe my plan wasn’t exactly so fool proof. Even though I didn’t see it-I thought I looked ridiculous-she thought I looked gorgeous. And Claire never said stuff like that so I knew it must have been a good thing.
We pulled up the house and already I could hear the music from outside. People were outside chain smoking and laughing at something that was probably not even funny. Claire pulled behind a way too familiar black truck and then turned off the engine. She hurried inside of the house and I had to trail behind her so that I wouldn’t look like I came by myself.

When we entered the house, no one took a second glance at us. Everyone was already talking to someone, dancing, drinking, or kissing someone. Claire grabbed my hand and we walked into the kitchen together. She grabbed a beer and tried to offer me one, but I declined. I would need all of the brain power I could get.
Claire told me, "If you don’t try to have fun tonight, I will hang you by your toes, alright?"
I nodded and then we went back in the den. I could tell that she was keeping a watchful eye on the crowd so that she could try and find Tom and leave me all by myself. If she did do that, I would be really pissed.

The new Black Eyed Peas song game on and two guys climbed onto the coffee table and started to do a strip tease. People started laughing and drunkenly cheering them on while I rolled my eyes and then wished that I was back home, working on school work. I didn’t care if I was an uptight nerd. At least I would be sober when I graduated.
"You came," a pleasant, husky voice whispered in my ear. It was Oliver, of course. He wrapped his arm around my waist and when he saw my face his eyes widened. "Wow," he murmured.
Claire’s face then lit up; of course now that Oliver had found me, she had found Tom. She smiled at me and then said, "I see him. Catch you later."

Before I had a chance to protest her leaving me, she scurried off to the other side of the den and within moments Tom had a major lip-lock on her. I sighed; now my only companion was Oliver who reeked of beer. I turned towards him and said, "Someone must have been hitting the drinks hard tonight."
"Of course, darlin’," he joked and then pulled me onto the couch by my shirt. He maneuvered himself to where I was sitting on his lap, but I instantly scooted over two feet to where I couldn’t even feel his presence next to mine. Sitting on his lap felt good-too good-and I had to get away. I had a plan, remember? He looked over at me and told me, "I knew you’d come."
I rolled my eyes at his cockiness and said, "I’m actually only here because Claire forced me. This has nothing to do with you."

He placed his hand over his heart and said, "And here I thought I was special."
"You wouldn’t be special if the special fairy bit you on your ass," I snapped and then looked around the room. Everyone else here seemed to be cutting loose, having fun. Why couldn’t I do that? It made me so mad that I couldn’t just let myself go and have a good time.
He scooted over towards me and then wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I bit back the rude remark and then leaned in towards him. It was all about having fun, I reminded myself. Besides it wasn’t that hard. Leaning into him, letting him snuggle me into me into his side, felt pretty good-amazing actually.

I sighed in defeat and then he asked, "You do realize I’m touching you, right?"
I looked up at him and noticed that he was looking down upon my face, his expression light yet serious. Once again I didn’t let my sarcastic remark escape my lips and I nodded. "Enjoy it…this is a one time thing."
He chuckled and said, "Tell me what I did differently. I want to do it all the time."
I rolled my eyes at him and told him, "I want to have fun for one night. Don’t ruin it for me."
"I can help you have fun," he said low, husky. It sent pleasant shivers throughout my body and I could feel the minuscule hairs on my neck stand up straight. I really wished he didn’t have this kind of affect on me.

"Really?" I asked, not even the slightest bit surprised. "What’d you have in mind?" I felt so ridiculous doing this; actually flirting with him. I mean, I was so used to arguing with him, side-stepping his ridiculous efforts, but it was nice to just give in for once.
He grinned at me and then stood up. He held out his hand for me and my heart started pounding in my chest. If I grabbed his hand, then I knew what he would lead me to. He would lead me somewhere that we could be alone; somewhere where music and drunken screams weren’t the only thing happening.
If I gave him my hand, it would be a sign of my surrender. I would be giving into temptation and the chase for him would be over. He would be able to hold this over my head forever, but for once I didn’t care. For once, I was going to do exactly what I wanted.

So that was why I slipped my hand into his and let him pull me up. He held my hand as he led me through the crowded kitchen, people watching us as we made our way though. People didn’t know who I was because these weren’t Eastwood people. These were people from Westwood who had no inkling at who I was.
All they knew was that I didn’t go to their school and that I was about to go into the backyard with their star quarterback. Their stares made me a bit anxious, as if maybe I was getting myself into too much. Maybe this wasn’t what I should have been doing…maybe I should just go home…

By the time I had had this thought, we were already outside and the difference was exponential. No one was outside; just us and the trees. The wind was starting to pick up and the sky was blanketed in clouds. You could hear the reverberations of the music on the back porch, but it was no where close to the volume it had been inside.
There wasn’t much light either; only the glow coming from the glass siding door leading inside. The lack of light made me a bit nervous to be alone with him, but it also made me want to jump his bones. He was just so…there.
His eyes were shining and intent on my face and they made me shiver in anticipation. I knew what accepting his hand had meant; I knew what we would be getting up to out here. Normally, this would be so against everything I went for. But tonight, I just didn’t care.

He walked over to me and slipped his arms around my waist. I looked up at him and he gave me the slightest of smiles before pressing his lips against mine. Of course I knew that this was what we would be doing and at first, I really wanted to, but now, I just wasn’t ready. It wasn’t that the kiss was bad or anything--in fact it was quite surreal-but for some reason, I just couldn’t so it.
I so wanted to be able to just not care about anything, to just kiss him, but for some reason, my body wouldn’t let me. I broke away from him and all of a sudden, I couldn’t look at him in the face anymore. His arms fell limp at my sides and when I turn away to leave, he grabbed me by the arm.

Tears threaten behind my lids--why couldn’t I just be normal?--and I had to try with my utmost power not to let them fall. "You okay?" Oliver’s voice asked me. For once his voice wasn’t full of jokes or pick-up lines, it actually sounded like he cared.
Which became my new problem. Oliver wasn’t exactly the caring kind. All he cared about was hitting on girls and being popular. He didn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own. "Like you care," I spat at him, earning a hurt expression.
All of a sudden, he looked really angry. I backed away from him, wondering what was coming up next. "I’m just trying to help for God sakes. Is that so horrible?"
"You’re just pretending to care so that I’ll make out with you," I argued back. There was no way he actually cared about me. I wasn’t going to fall for that.
"That’s not true," he defended and then said, "If that was all I cared about, then how come I’m not forcing you to kiss me, huh?" He actually looked hurt right now. Did he take acting lessons or something? There was no way on Earth that he would actually care.

"Because I won’t let you! All you care about is getting into girl’s pants and most of the time, the girls are fully willing. I’m not though, that’s why you’re pretending to be a good guy!" The look on his face was gut-wrenching. His acting skills were amazing.
"Did you ever stop and think that maybe I am a good guy?" he asked, but when I rolled my eyes and scoffed, he looked at me and then said, "You’re nothing but a tease; did you know that? It’s like you have a stick permanently shoved up your ass!"

The words should have killed me; they should have made me burst into sobs and question myself on whether or not I was a good person. But they didn’t make me feel bad about myself. Instead, they only infuriated me.
"Oh!" I exclaimed and I walked up to him. "You’re the one talking! You think you’re so amazing just because you’re hot and because pathetic girls are willing to screw around with you!" I knew fully well I was being harsh, but I didn’t care. "Statistics say that being a whore comes from self-esteem issues. They say that there is a subconscious problem that causes the sleeping around. Has something hurt you, Oliver? Huh? Or is it just because you want to impress your idiotic friends and be looked up to by the entire male population?"

"What about you, huh?" he shouted, looking me dead on in the eye. The middle vein in his forehead was throbbing and he looked livid. I was terrified to see what he was going to say next. "All you care about is school and work and college. You don’t have any friends except for that gothic looking chick and you’re getting onto me about self-esteem issues? Obviously something has happened to you! You’re terrified to let people get to know you, to actually find people that care about you! Is that because you yourself don’t like what you’ve become as a person?"
"Stop it," I begged him, not being able to take this anymore. I wanted to run away, to not hear this anymore, but my feet were stuck.

"Is this too much for the big, strong, Kara?" he asked. "Huh? Because it seems to be getting to you."
"Please…" I looked up at him, tears filling my eyes. I hadn’t cried in forever and I sure as hell didn’t want to do it in front of Oliver. I didn’t want him to know how emotionally scarred I was.
"You," he seethed, "Are nothing but a cold, heartless, bitch." His mouth was pressed into a hard line and his nose was flared. He hated me. He really hated me.