Looking to Score(64)

I was the candy in this scenario, despite how ridiculous I looked.

“He doesn’t need a babysitter, Amanda.” Legacy laughed at my attempt to lure Oakley out of the bar. She was drawing lazy circles on his chest with her long nails. If it wouldn’t have looked ridiculous, I bet she would have straddled him right there in the middle of the bar. I mentally rolled my eyes at what she thought was a display of dominance.

“Oakley? Come on. Come home with me,” I said softly.

He quickly pushed everyone away, as if he’d just realized we had an audience. His movements were slow and forced, each choppy extension of his limbs was like wading through syrup.

“I didn’t kiss thennnn,” he slurred, swaying toward me. “Why didn’t you fall—call?”

“I’ll explain when we get back. Come on, I’m going to fix this.”

Seeing Oakley drunk broke me. He was struggling today, and I wasn’t there for him. This wasn’t about me being his publicist. This was about being his friend—his person.

“You’ve always been an attention whore, Amanda. Can’t even let the poor man drink. He’s had a hard day, and you’re making it about yourself. You always fucking make it about yourself,” Legacy spat. She realized she had lost, and insulting me was a last ditch effort, trying to regain her control.

Oakley’s face twisted up in rage, but this was one battle I wanted to fight for myself. “That’s rich coming from you,” I snarled. “You humiliated me to make yourself look better.”

“You humiliated yourself. I was just along for the ride,” she sneered.

“We were supposed to be friends. I’m responsible for my actions, yes, but when you care about someone, you protect them. You don’t show the world their indiscretions while you laugh on the sidelines. That is what I’m doing for Oakley right now, protecting him.”

I took a step closer to Legacy, seeing her with clear eyes for the first time. She was trying just as hard to fit a role as I had been; the only difference was I escaped it. All the anger fled my body, and a surprising emotion overcame me: pity.

“I wish I could hate you, but you probably saved my life that night, Legacy.” Her eyes widened in shock, as if she wasn’t expecting that. “You forced me to change—to be better. And I hope one day you learn that you are beautiful and capable of better things, too. I’m not letting you walk all over me with your knock off Louis Vuitton heels anymore. You are nothing. No one. I don’t want or need your validation anymore. And when my boyfriend isn’t drunk—”

“I’m still your boyfriend?” Oakley interjected, his voice sloppy and full of awe. I ignored him but felt a burst of affection.

“He’s not going to want you. He wants something real—something you’re not capable of being right now because you’re too busy tearing others apart and using their mistakes to make yourself look superior.”

“Yep. What she said,” Oakley added, making the growing crowd watching us laugh. Legacy’s face soured as she realized they were laughing at her. It was probably something she wasn’t used to, considering she was usually the one pointing the finger.

I took Oakley’s hand and led him out of the bar. I didn’t look back at Legacy as we left; I wasn’t about to give her another second of my time. My mom helped me get Oakley settled into the backseat of the car, and she started the drive home.

“Thank you fer coming to get me, Solbeer,” Oakley slurred as he fell asleep with his head in my lap.





28





Oakley slept like the dead. I, however, was up before the sun, because apparently being drunk made snoring about a billion times worse. It was a cycle, his soft gentle purr escalating into a burst of roaring snores, finishing with one final explosive snore. A snorgasm.

I sat up in the bed, all protective feelings from earlier gone. I was now thinking about whether or not I could get away with smothering him with my pillow. I finally gave up on the idea of getting any more sleep and opened up my laptop. I was briefly concerned about the bright screen waking Oakley up, but he snorgasmed again, and my moment of concern passed.

I wanted to face my demons head on, so I pulled up Instagram to see what the damage was. I didn’t even bother looking at the tagged posts, I went straight to the last photo he’d shared. I knew the first step would be to delete any unsavory comments or maybe turn off commenting altogether. The photo was of him on the airplane that brought us here, with his award winning smile and bright, hopeful eyes. He looked hot as hell. With a deep breath, I started reading.

LickMyKitty69: Omg did you get arrested for defending your gf?

Mrs.Hemsworth20: I want to sit on your face.

Comefeelme: Amanda Matthews is one lucky gurl.

ItWasntMe: #PutOakleyBackInTheGame #NoFatShaming

ILikeToBeChoked91: I would have punched that dude, too.

ClevelandHotWaffle: Oakley! I have a great opportunity for you. If you’d like to make extra income while working on your phone, join my #Bossbabe empire.

TheKentuckyKlondikeBar: #TeamOakley #TeamAmanda #FuckBodyShamers

Smashturbating: I got pregnant just looking at this photo.

What? How did they know about… I quickly started searching, and it didn’t take me long to find what had everyone buzzing. A full video of what happened last night was uploaded by a girl I didn’t recognize. Based on her Instagram feed, she obviously attended USC, but I had never seen her before. I clicked on it and watched with a frown, shame filling me up as the embarrassing debacle played like a movie before me.