"The other two don't have parents who drag them here," he said through gritted teeth. "Lucky them," I chuckled. I pulled my hand back and looked at him, "Wow, you really hate me," I said. "Can you say the feeling isn't mutual?" he asked, leaning in closer to me, his lips merely inches away from mine. I started leaning in before pulling back. I am not going to kiss Ethan Archer just to annoy Justin. "Never," I grinned. "Hmm, Justin's gone," I said, still not moving because I could feel Annabelle's gaze on us. "Probably had a boner," he whispered in my ear. I smiled, trying not to laugh. You know how when someone you hate says something funny, you try acting like it wasn't funny? Yeah… that. "Does that mean she had a lady-boner? Cause I see her walking away too," I said, pulling back and increasing the distance between us. "Olivia!" I shot up from the stool as my dad approached us. "You-" he stopped talking when he saw Ethan. "Sir, I'm Ethan Archer," Ethan smiled, turning his charm on and shaking my dad's hand. "Keith Carrington," my dad smiled, "Nice to meet you." "You too," Ethan nodded. "Olivia, Mr. Thomas has requested you join the dance. Find a partner. Do you dance, Ethan?" I opened my mouth to reason but… "I sure do," he smiled. "Very well, come on you two," my dad said, leading us to the floor. Ethan held his arm out and I linked mine with his. "Don't put on the act in front of my parents, I don't need them thinking I have a boyfriend," I said. "Sorry, I'll just flip him off next time around, hmm?" he asked as we reached the floor and I turned to face him. "Olivia!" I turned and saw Mr. Thomas, "I thought you'd be bored by now, maybe you'd enjoy dancing," he smiled. "I certainly do, Mr. Thomas, thank you," I beamed at him. He's a nice old man. I turned back to Ethan, dropping the smile. "Tell me you don't have two left feet," he said. "I don't, but I can't make any promises about my heels not digging into your feet," I replied. "Very nice of you," he nodded sarcastically while the music started. It was a simple routine, it's how all posh people dance. Swaying, rolling out, rolling in, spinning, pulling closer. In other words, bullshit. "You don't think your dress is a little long for this?" he asked. "You were complimenting the dress earlier. Offend it like that again and I can guarantee you'll trip over it," I scoffed. "So full of hate," he smirked at me, "I like it." "If you didn't want it, you shouldn't have pushed me off that swing and broken my ankle." "You shouldn't have punctured my soccer ball after that." "You shouldn't have splattered paint over my drawings," I retorted. "You shouldn't have tripped me in basketball," he scoffed. "You shouldn't have filled my locker with water balloons." "You shouldn't have sent out that picture of me from middle school." "You shouldn't have kissed me," I said. I realized what I said and immediately regretted it. Long story short, he stole my first kiss for a stupid dare in ninth grade at a party. He didn't know it was my first and that was the one time he genuinely apologized to me for something. I agreed to never bring it up again because when his friends found out he apologized, let's just say they weren't very nice to him and since then, it's been him, Daniel, and Austin. The trio. "Bitch," he mumbled. "It's your fault for doing it," I shrugged, "I wish I slapped you that night." "I wish I didn't apologize to you. It was a kiss." "It was my first," I snapped back, "You don't steal people's first kisses like that," I said, lowering my voice when Annabelle and Justin came nearer. "Like what?" he raised a daring eyebrow at me. "I wish I poured that red wine onto your white shirt," I whispered, stepping closer, leaning in against his ear. "I wish I did it first," he whispered, his fingers hitting the zipper of my dress. I pulled back, looking at him. I do not trust him. "Don't touch that," I said. He smirked and started taking his hand lower and lower and lower. "Or that," I said through gritted. "They're watching," he said smugly. "Good, then they'll get a nice show when I kick you in your dick," I whispered. He lifted his hand and settled it on the small of my back. "So hostile," he smirked. "Hmm, I bet you're fucked up enough to like it." "You know I am," he winked, before spinning me around and then pulling me closer than earlier. The music slowed to a stop and I took a step back, increasing the distance between us because I did not like how fast my heart started beating. It's probably because I hate him so much. "Bar?" he asked, linking my arm with his. I didn't say anything, just silently walked with him. "Oliver," he said as we sat down, "Why must you bring up that kiss? I already apologized right after it happened," he said, standing beside the stool I sat on, both of us leaning our backs against the bar. "I don't know why I brought it up, you were annoying me, I had to shut you up," I shrugged. "There's other ways to shut me up," he smirked. "Right, next time I'll gag you with a sock," I rolled my eyes. "Mm-mm," he shook his head, "Think again." "With a grenade?" I smiled. He chuckled, shaking his head, "Mm-mm." "Then?" I asked, leaning in hauntingly. "With a kiss," he mumbled, leaning in. "Are they watching?" I asked. "Maybe," he smirked. "You act like you're in love with me," I teased. "You act like you're obsessed with me," he grinned. "I'm obsessed with the thought of murdering you, get it right," I said, trailing a finger down the side of his face. He caught my finger and pulled my hand down, "Doesn't that make you a psychopath?" he whispered. "Sure it does," I said, pulling away because I knew Justin or Annabelle weren't here, watching us. He was just messing with me. "Oh, and next time, at least look around and pretend to spot them before you try flirting with me," I said. I give him all the attitude I have to give and he hates me for it. Lucky for him, the feeling is always and always shall be mutual. "Call me when you need my help, Miles. I'll see you around," I said, heading to the ladies room. . . . . . Chapter 2