"What happened to your face?"
Oliver laughed mirthlessly, then glared at me. "You enjoyed the show my mother and I put on outside, didn't you?"
"No, I—did she do that?" I gestured to his face.
"Scarlett..." His tone was alarming. He ran his fingers over his black eye, wincing. "She may as well have."
I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"
"Fuck. Just leave it alone, Scarlett. It doesn't concern you." He turned to leave, then called over his shoulder, "You're still naked."
My jaw dropped, and I quickly grabbed my towel, wrapping it tightly before going downstairs. Jeez. I just wanted to know what happened... He obviously doesn't like sympathy. He's too good for it.
No wonder he is the way he is though... Look at his damn mother. He comes back from her place beat up.
After getting dressed, I decided to find him, searching the house. Where the hell is he? Maybe he left. I checked the driveway; his car was still there. Okay, but he's not in his room.
I found him in the garage, shirtless, sweat dripping down his body as he punched a bag in the corner. When did they put that there? My eyes lingered on his sculpted back. Damn... he's really fit.
"Are you just going to stand there staring at me?"
"Shit, sorry. Didn't think you noticed me."
"Of course I noticed you!"
I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped forward. He turned the music down and looked at me. "Just fucking leave, Scarlett."
I frowned, placing my hands on my hips. "Not until you talk to me." I shrugged. "It's not good to keep all that shit in. You gotta let it out." I know firsthand about dealing with bullshit. I used to wonder if we'd have a place to sleep. Keeping it bottled up just makes it worse.
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" He slammed his fists against the bag, panting. His hair was slick with sweat. He wiped his forehead and ignored me.
"What happened? Who did that? Does your dad know?"
"He doesn't need to know. I can handle it."
"Oh yeah, beating a punching bag and hiding a toxic home environment is really handling it."
He stalked toward me, towering over me. I saw the tension in his body, but I didn't back down. I met his gaze. "What don't you understand? I don't want to be bothered."
I scoffed. He needs to know what persistence means. "I'm just doing what you do to me. Pestering you to get what I want."
Oliver sighed, throwing his arms up. "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"
"I can't guarantee that."
"It was my mom's boyfriend, Rick."
"He hit you?"
"No shit."
"Why?"
"No, I told you who hit me. That's it. The door is over there." He pointed. Like I don't know where the door is... asshole.
"God forbid someone actually cares."
"I don't care. I don't want your pity. I don't need your 'sad eyes bullshit,' okay?" Sad eyes bullshit? He's more messed up than I thought.
I nodded slowly, scrutinizing him. "Now I see why you treat women the way you do... you resent your mother, so you take it out on everyone."
"Fuck you! You don't know shit about me."
I tapped my chin mockingly. "How much more is there to know? There's no depth to you, babe. As shallow as it gets."
Oliver left the garage. I followed. "Running from your problems doesn't solve them."
"God, you can't take a hint."
"That makes two of us. You should tell your father."
He stopped suddenly, and I bumped into him. I stumbled back. He spun around, glaring. "Do yourself a favor and don't worry about me. I'm not with you. I could fuck you and throw you away. I wouldn't even blink. In fact, I'd probably enjoy it. Worry about yourself."
Are you serious? Wow. I can't believe I let him touch me in the car... I can't believe I wanted him. He's a player. A jerk who doesn't care about anyone.
"Glad to know where I stand. Don't worry. I wasn't interested. You're too broken. Besides, I wouldn't waste time with someone who claims they're a man but acts like a child."
He was quiet, then sighed and left. Why do I do this? Why do I care about people who don't deserve it? Well, whether he wants me to or not, I feel bad.