***
The rest of the week passes in a blur. Mackenzie gives me a hard time during training. She keeps describing her intense nights with Oliver loud enough for me to hear when we’re in the changing room. I shouldn’t be jealous, but I can’t help imagining her face when I win the competition in front of the whole crowd, waiting for Oliver to congratulate me. It’s lame. He would never do that.
I see Alexander during lunch. He sits with a bunch of French students. He can see me, but he doesn’t approach me or try to talk to me, which is odd. We had a great time, but now he treats me like he doesn’t even know me. Dora thinks that he is gorgeous but gay. He confuses me so much.
I don’t hear back from Alexander until Saturday night. Dora left for London with Jacob yesterday, packing a suitcase of clothes. She told me to go out and have a good time if Alexander calls, but now I’m not so sure. On Saturday morning I wake up feeling refreshed and ready for a long TV show marathon with my favorite CSI Miami.
I buy a lot of junk food and stay in bed with my laptop until early evening. My phone starts ringing later on and I don’t pick up, seeing that it’s Alexander. After around five phone calls, I give up and answer.
“What?”
“India, it’s me, Alex.”
“I know. What the hell do you want?”
“Chill, India,” he says like everything is fine. “Are you all right?”
“Why are you even calling me? I haven’t heard from you for the whole week. You didn’t even text or talk to me in the canteen,” I tell him, knowing that I have to put my cards on the table. “Just spare me the tears later on. Does Oliver have something to do with this?”
“India, I don’t know what are you talking about,” he says, sounding tense. “And I have no idea who Oliver is. Is he your boyfriend or something?”
I don’t respond straightaway, wondering if I’ve gone too far. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Alexander is Swedish; he has no idea about Oliver. He doesn’t even play rugby.
“No, he isn’t. I told you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” I reply, feeling mortified. “I’m—”
“No, don’t apologize. Just listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t call you earlier. I felt like an idiot, because I really wanted to kiss you that night, but I panicked. Then I thought that you wouldn’t want to talk to me, so I avoided you,” he says, sounding uneasy.
“You really wanted to kiss me?” I ask quietly. There is a silence on the other line.
“Yeah, and I won’t stop bugging you until you give me another chance,” he assures me. “Let me take you to that party. I just got the text.”
“What text?”
“You know, about the secret party, the one I told you about,” he says. “It’s a pajama party dress code.”
“Pajama party? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, of course not. A few girls that I know have been invited. They are wearing sexy nighties. Those instructions are pretty clear.”
I roll my eyes, already imagining what kind of party he is talking about. The house probably belongs to a single student who wants to see half naked girls in their sexy nighties.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to show up in my lingerie. It’s embarrassing. I don’t know anyone there.”
“No one knows anyone there, and that’s the whole point. It’s totally sexy, plus I want to see you,” he insists. “It’s Saturday night, India, so come on, we’ll have fun.”
“All right, but I’m not wearing anything too revealing,” I tell him, laughing.
“I’m sure that you’ll look amazing. I’ll pick you up in half an hour. Can you be ready by then?”
“Yes, I’ll be ready.”
Then he hangs up, and I wonder where Dora is when I need her the most. She would know what I should wear. It’s freezing outside so I would wear something to cover myself up. I jump out of bed and search for the one and only nighty that I’ve got. My butt is covered, but I look sexy, and that’s what matters. Other girls will probably wear much more revealing stuff, and I can turn up looking like some kind of prude.
I put a full face of makeup on, one with smoky eyes, and style my hair. My nighty cover is black with lace mesh and pattern in front.
When my doorbell rings, I let Alexander upstairs. He is wearing grey pajama pants and a vest revealing his large arms. I can tell he works out. His eyes pop open as he stares at my body. I’m not bad looking, and after a few weeks of rowing I’m much more fit than before.
“Wow, India, you look hot. That’s the look that I was talking about.”
I add high heels and put my coat on. “Are you sure that it’s not too much?”
“It’s perfect. Everyone will love it, trust me,” he adds, smiling.
He orders a taxi for us, and we reach our secret destination fifteen minutes later. The cold breeze ruffles my hair as we get out of the taxi. We are most definitely on a street filled with student parties. The terrace house in front of us looks busy. I can hear the loud music and my stomach tightens.
Alexander doesn’t let me change my mind. He suddenly takes my hand and brings me toward his body. “I’ve got to do this before we go in,” he says, and then his lips crush mine.
I’m not prepared for this, but I part my lips, enjoying his sensual kiss. His lips are sweet, but he only lets me taste him for a brief second or so, before he pulls away. It’s pleasant and once we are done he smiles, standing in front of the door.
I blush, smiling. “That was unexpected,” I say, looking at him. He looks slightly tense and I wonder if he is nervous. “What are we waiting for?”
“We need to take off our coats, otherwise they won’t let us in,” he says. It’s cold and it’s already dark so I doubt that anyone would notice us here. We both take our coats off, and then Alexander knocks. Someone opens the door and Alexander tells me to go in.
There are a lot of people, but none are dressed like I am. The alarm bells go off in my head. We both walk into the living room, and I feel like someone drops a bucket of stones down into my stomach. Suddenly I can’t breathe, seeing that other people aren’t wearing any pajamas. I look at Alexander who is standing by the door watching me carefully. Some people start laughing at my silly nighty, pointing at me like I’m some kind of freak.
Heat creeps over my entire face. “Alex, what is going on? I thought you said that this is a pajama party?”
“Sorry, Indi, I was only doing what I was asked to do,” he says in a different voice narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry to say, but you don’t even know how to kiss.”
“We didn’t order a stripper, Indi. Plus your legs are too fat for what you’re wearing,” says deep familiar voice. The air freezes in my lungs when I notice Oliver coming out from the corner. So, this is a trap. Obviously, Oliver asked Alex to bring me here, to pretend that he was interested. I was so naive to have fallen into that old school joke.
People laugh out loud, and I stand there rooted to the spot, looking like a complete moron. Oliver’s eyes harden on me; then he lifts his phone and takes my picture. His eyes then move downwards to my breasts, my legs.
Then I do the only thing that’s right. I turn and walk away.
“Come on, where are you going, Indi? Show us what you got; everyone is waiting,” Oliver shouts and people laugh harder.
When I get to the door, I see Mackenzie. She is standing with her arms folded together, staring at me. She looks good wearing a tight black dress. “You’ve got to work out more, sweetie.” She smirks. “I told you he’d get you one way or another.”
I brush past her and storm out of the house. My hands are shaking and tears are steaming down my eyes. I don’t care that I’m standing half naked in the middle of a busy street on Saturday night. Oliver got what he wanted. I was mortified. A few years ago I played exactly the same prank on him. I should have remembered.
I run as fast as I can. People stare, but I don’t stop until I reach my apartment.
My phone keep
s vibrating, but when I finally lock my door I cry out, punching the wall and bruising my hand. How could I be so stupid and believe that anyone could be interested in me?
The pain is fresh and the memories of that party from a few years ago flood back to me. I fall onto my couch, sobbing until I’m finally numb and empty. Oliver hates me and he proved to me tonight that his bet is real.
I check my phone, as it keeps vibrating, and I see tons of Facebook notifications. People took my picture as soon as I stepped into the living room, and they’ve posted it and tagged me. There are comments, some laughing at me, other blokes congratulating Oliver. The girls are telling me how ugly I look and how fat I am.
I toss my phone on the floor, pissed off. Oliver just showed me that I never meant anything to him.
Then my phone starts vibrating again, but I just leave it there. He is digging deeper than I thought; he is letting me taste what he was going through when I bullied him. I did many more horrible things to him when he was in high school. He suffered constant abuse from guys and he was the subject of nasty gossip. I lie on my couch, unable to move, feeling like there is a large hole in my chest. I finally got what I deserved.
My life in Braxton will only get worse, so maybe I should give up and leave. Now Oliver is empowered by my pain and humiliation. He enjoys seeing me hurt.
I sob into the pillows as the memories of that terrible night with Christian sink in. Oliver is just like his brother now, cold and devious. He found his way to get to me. All my wounds are slowly opening up.
I doze off shortly, exhausted. In my dreams, I’m my old self, confident and popular.