Black Velvet (39) (Patreon)

(A/N: I just want to clarify that Charlie-Anne is not an antagonist. She’s just a character who happens to have feelings for the wrong person, and that happens to be her close friend and one of the main characters. She will have character growth outside of her crush on Oliver (and Tobias is just insecure because he is unsure of where he stands and she's enviable.) I don’t want her treated as a villain OR as a satellite love meant to push the two main characters together. This is a book about young adults and a character study of their influence on one another, as well as a romance. Not everyone gets a happy ending with their first big crush or connection, and Charlie-Anne is, unfortunately, a realistic example of this.)

I don't know what to show her.  I'm awkward, and she is too.  We're now left as actual pieces of furniture at a raging party. There's no real reason left for our presence.

I manage to turn into a stalking piece of furniture that has uncomfortably caught Tobias' gaze three more times, or really, Tobias has caught me staring at him three more times. He's starting to glare in our awkward exchanges, eyes on Charlie-Anne and I's linked arms.

Charlie-Anne is unfortunately aware of this, and in her drunken nature, decides to return his glare full-force. This ignites some sort of pissing contest from either side of the party area.

It's downright uncomfortable until, thank God, Nic flies past Charlie-Anne and me in a flurry of arms and cape, unintentionally saving me from my awkward inability to understand what the hell is happening.

Nic is laughing, face flushed as he talks to Joseph from the construction site at my work, "No, no dude, she's not too tall for you!" He laughs and then slams his hand down against my back, "Quit making excuses and just go for it, Joseph. Just go for it.  She could be your soulmate."

Oh no. Nic always starts on about soulmates when he's plastered, which should be the first clue of the night that we won't be here much longer.

"Your brother sort of looks like you when he's giggly," Charlie-Anne whispers, humorously stricken by it, "I've never noticed that." I tilt my head, trying to see what she sees and wondering if I should be at all insulted by the comparison.

I look like my brother, baseball extraordinaire when he's - giggly.

Great.

"Oliver, Oliver," Nic presses his hands flat on my shoulders, interrupting my thoughts, "what have you been doing all night?" He's distracted by Charlie-Anne and her snort, something he's probably unaccustomed to, "Hello, Charlie,"  he draws out her name with a silly wink. "I'm amusing, I know."

I don't think the joke is all that original, but Charlie-Anne snickers softly.

"Uh, having my eyes assaulted by multitudes of cleavage and buttcrack?" I shrug, nodding towards a frat boy bent over the couch, a good half-inch of his butt hanging out of his jeans. "The worst part is, most of them are wearing belts. Do you forget how to properly wear a belt when intoxicated?"

"Woah, woah, I have no clue what you just said," Nic is cracking up, bleary-eyed, "but it was a lot.  How do you put up with this, Charlie? Are earplugs part of your costume?" Charlie-Anne doesn't seem to know what to do with his hyperactive attention directed towards her. She drunkenly sways closer to me, and my hula-hoop effectively blocks her, sliding into a more uncomfortable angle.

"How much have you had?" I swipe my hoop at him, pushing him away from us, "you smell. Mom is going to be super pissed if you vomit in the yard."

Nic shakes his gangly body about like he's exorcising the spirit of drunkenness.

"As much as I want!" He smiles, his friend laughing behind him, "how much have you had?  Your little girlfriend seems drunk as a skunk."

"I'm not..."

"What girlfriend?  And none, just lots of candy. I'm driving you and Tobias home, remember?" I avert my eyes as Nic circles me, giggling into the back of my head. I give a small half-smile at his happiness. His drunkenness is kind of endearing sometimes.

"Mom says you can't have that much sugar," Nic chides, "you don't tell her that I let you."

"Mom also says no flashing lights or loud music. I'm an adult; you're making it weird." I roll my eyes. There's not a lot of places for them to roam, so they land where they always do.

Tobias is closer than before; his hands tucked loosely in his pockets. He sways as someone pushes behind him, smirking at something his friend is saying, likely introducing him to the angel-costumed girl in front of them. He glances at me, jaw jumping minutely.

What?  Tobias mouths. He doesn't seem too happy. My eyes drop to the ground in confusion.

"I wanna eat," Nic's attempting to push past me and into the next room, where they're passing around Little Tony pizza boxes, "not too much, I can't get a belly. But I'm gonna get some food, gonna get some pizza —"

"You have a nice belly." Joseph chimes into Nic's song, patting his own, "I always worry about a beer gut. My dad has a beer gut — is it genetic?"

"It's from beer!"

"Hey, you're both beautiful," I bump Nic with my hula, voice straining over the music, "When are you going to be ready to go?"

"Hour - tops? Too drunk for much more," Nic nods, eyes red-rimmed, "Tobias too, he's totally drunk.  Hey, Charlie, do you want pizza?"

"He's drunk?" My nose wrinkles.  I glance back to where Tobias stands. He's running a hand through his hair, a fresh, bottled drink in hand. The haloed girl is talking to him animatedly, hand brushing against his arm, curling around the top of it. He smiles in his false way, encouraging her bright smile, before glancing over his shoulder at Nic, then at me, then back at the woman.

"Yeah," Nic cuts through my thoughts, like it explains everything, "And somehow he's still managed to reel in Madison Todd?  That genetically perfect monster!" He pauses, blinking hard at Joseph, "Did they say they wanted pizza or not?"

They're shouting back and forth over the noise as they walk towards the food, and I'm still staring at the girl in her angel costume.

Madison.

I watch her hand slipping upwards, curling around the back of Tobias' neck. Her other hand joins the first, and her face blocks him from view, but her lips are planting against his cheek with a soft invitation, and —

Oh.

"Um."  I don't mean to voice it, embarrassed at the weird pang that settles in my chest. I just feel I need to say something. I suddenly feel a bit nauseous.  Charlie-Anne's eyes follow to where mine once were.

"Um,"  I repeat.  I squeeze the hula hoop.

"Oliver,"  Charlie-Anne's frowning, "Oliver, look at me." I look down at my feet, and she reaches upwards, a soft hand against my cheek. "Stop looking at him."

"I can't."

"You can."  It's loud; I can see the way she swallows, the way her throat moves when she does.  My eyes track back to the carpet, the parts of it that are frayed, "We could still go to the festival. With me. You could take me."

Charlie-Anne steps back into my vision, brown eyes a bit watery, hand on my face too warm — shaking.

"Just look at me instead?"

She's tipping forward, soft curls touching my face.  I blink once, then twice.

Oh.

I startle and pull away,

"I gotta..." I stare at her, bewildered, "I don't."

I look back at Tobias.

The Amadeus man is staring at us, attention now fully mine. He pushes out his palm at the angel-girl like he's telling her to wait a moment. He's anything but patient when she pushes closer and circles around her, shoving through the crowd in front of him — towards me.

I inhale, turning abruptly, and Charlie-Anne's hands are against her stomach, curled around each other.  Her chest heaves slightly, eyes averted from mine.

A sad love.

"I —"  I swallow,  "You should call me - if you need a ride." I say, but she won't look at me, "please call me.  I'm... I'm so sorry.  I've gotta,"  I shake my head.    I step around her.  "I didn't?"

I push away from my friend and Tobias' approach and into the crowd.

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