Page 9 of Broken Silence
Moping around in your own self-pity really passed the time.
I smiled apologetically and sat up. “Sorry, lost track of time. You look nice.”
She wore an extremely low-cut, tight black dress. It looked painted on. I wasn’t used to seeing quite that much of her, but Iwasn’t exactly complaining. She was beautiful. Oakley would never wear anything like that, not that it was at all bad, it just wasn’t her style.
Stop thinking about her.
Chelsea laughed and playfully slapped my shoulder, running her hand down my arm, her pink tipped nails raking over my skin. I waited for the need to have her hands on me more, and to want to touch her, but those things never came. I wished they would.
“Thanks. You look the same as earlier,” she said and arched a dark brow.
“Yeah, I should get changed.” I got up and grabbed a pair of jeans and a black shirt.
She sat down on my bed with no offer of privacy. I watched her looking around my room, her eyes lingering over the photo of me and Oakley in Italy—a selfie we’d taken on her balcony.
“Back in two,” I told her before going into the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure how much Chelsea knew about Oakley as she’d never asked me for any details. She knew Oakley’s past, though—it was hard to find anyone around here who didn’t—the tragic story of the little girl whose dad allowed a sick man to sexually abuse her. Only it wasn’t just a story, it was very real, and so far there had been no happy ending.
I changed and styled my hair. Staring into the mirror, I tried a bit of a pep talk.Have fun. Move on. You deserve to find someone… else.Thing was, so much reminded me of her. Our eyes were a similar blue. She was everywhere still, my personal ghost, there to haunt me.
Sighing, I sprayed aftershave and looked away, no longer wanting to see her staring back, and left the bathroom.
“Let’s go,” I said, poking my head around the door. Chelsea glanced up, her eyes roaming over my chest and legs. I didn’texactly hate being wanted by a gorgeous woman, but I couldn’t help feeling like I should.
“You’re going to enjoy yourself tonight,” she said, getting off my bed.
“Always do.”
Pursing her lips, she made an expression that told me she thought I was full of shit. “I wish you would.”
I put my hand on her back as we walked downstairs. “Promise I will.”
Her toothy smile over her shoulder made me laugh. “You can’t break a promise. I’m getting you drunk.”
Sounded fine with me.
Kerry was sitting in the back of the car when we reached the drive, Ben driving. It was as if she had known I’d want to escape any awkward scenario with Chelsea because she rarely let me have the front seat.
Not that being close to Chelsea was always awkward, we’d just been alone in my room, but I definitely felt pressure when I was around her, like she was waiting for me to make a move.
“Ready to get smashed?” Kerry asked when I shut the door.
“Beyond ready,” I replied. I wanted to get so off my face, I wouldn’t even remember Oakley’s name.
Not enough fucking alcohol in the world would do that.
“If anyone pukes in my car, you’re paying for it to be cleaned,” Ben told us. “Actually, you puke, you buy me a new car.”
“Can you say dramatic?” Chelsea joked from the backseat, making Kerry laugh.
It wasn’t often that Ben was accused of being the dramatic one.
His ancient Land Rover got us to the carpark in one piece… but then it took five minutes of circling before he found a spot that it fit in. I watched as we passed the same cars over and over.
He reversed into the space, and I looked out of my window. “I guess Kerry and I are climbing across the other side.”
“Hey, that dickhead is too close to the line!” Ben said, defending his parking.
