"I'm coming," Ollie growls as Bridget pushes him away from the door.
"Just take Aubrey home, or go out and have a good time. Either way, we're fine. Skye has me and she has Patrick, really you don't have to come."
I sigh from my spot in the cab, watching the meter begin to tick, and am half tempted to close the door and leave all four of them behind.
Ollie scoffs in Patrick's direction. "She's known him for, what? Three weeks? I don't trust this guy. I'm coming."
"Back off, man," Patrick growls.
Bridget just rolls her eyes. "Stop being so overprotective. We're fine."
Ollie ignores her, stepping closer to Patrick—a little too close, challengingly close. "Look, I've known Skye since she was five, and I've never let anything happen to her." Well, that's not exactly true, I silently charge—he knows exactly what he's let happen to me. We both do. But Ollie doesn’t even pause, he just barrels on. "If anyone is going to help take her to the hospital to make sure she's okay, it's going to be me."
"Well, Patrick is her boyfriend, so I think he can handle it," Bridget says, tugging on Ollie's arm.
And then everyone pauses.
I start silently choking in the backseat.
What did I say before, about the boyfriend conversation only happening in awkward sober conversations or totally drunken slips? Yeah…crap.
"Bridge!" I hiss. She looks at me with a broken expression, clearly aware the situation is getting away from her.
"Since when are you her boyfriend?" Ollie spits.
"Since now," Patrick replies.
Wait, what?
I grin.
"Oh, give me a break." Ollie crosses his arms. I can’t help but notice Aubrey is shrinking in the corner, looking at me with some concern.
Okay, time for me to step in.
"People!" I shout, a little louder than I intended, but the ice has almost completely melted and the pain in my hand has turned to a throbbing pulse. "Remember me, the one who needs to go to the hospital?"
They all jolt, shocked, turning to look at me. And I realize—yes, they did completely forget about me. Wonderful. What better saviors could a girl ask for?
"Okay, Patrick, get in the car," Bridget says, giving him a shove and then blocking the doorway. "Don’t leave, just give me two minutes to talk to Ollie." And then she slams the door on his face. Well, almost.
"I do not like that guy," Patrick mutters. And I mean, I can't say I blame him.
"He just…" I trail off with a sigh. How do I finish this? He just what? Truthfully, I have no clue what could possibly have gotten into him. Ollie was the most popular guy in high school. The captain of the football team. That guy every girl was in love with and every guy wanted to hang out with. He didn’t get in fights. Ever. Well, except with some of Bridget's boyfriends, but that was like a macho big brother thing…
Wait?
Is that what's happening? Does Ollie really think of me like a little sister? I mean really? After everything…
I shake my head.
Doesn't matter. For now, it's as good an excuse as anything.
"He's just really protective of Bridget and me. Like he said, he's known me since I was five. And I mean, Bridget and I were best friends from the start, playdates every day, doing all the same clubs, and Ollie was with us most of that time. He's always been super overprotective about any guys Bridget or I see, and," I pause, biting my lip, unsure of how much to say. But the words just tumble out anyway. "And Ollie was there when my parents got divorced, there to cheer me up when I snuck through Bridget's bedroom window at two in the morning because my mom and dad were fighting again. He saw me cry, a lot, and I think he just doesn’t want to see me get hurt like that again."
And I know what I'm saying is true. But when I think of the top three worst times of my life, there's no question what they are—my parents' divorce, when my grandfather passed away, and how I felt after everything went down with Ollie over four years ago. Which is funny really, because I dated John for more than three years before I found out he cheated, and what Ollie did was still worse—far, far worse to my heart.
And now he's here. Pretending like a few weeks of living together has erased all of the history, has given him back the right to be overprotective of me, when it hasn’t. Not by a long shot.
"Okay," Bridget says as she opens the door, shocking me from the dark direction of my thoughts, pulling me back to the real world. "So, Ollie and Aubrey just left. And to top it all off, I think I thought of a great way to solve this whole mix up."
Patrick and I look at each other, both slightly confused.
"What mix up?" I ask.
"Well, I mean," she says with a shrug, "isn't it obvious? The whole Patrick, Ollie mix up. Clearly the two of you haven’t gotten off to a great start, which trust me, my brother can be an ass sometimes so I totally understand. But if you and Skye are going to keep dating, then you and Ollie need to be friends. Well, not even friends, just civil with each other."
"Bridge…" I growl. "What did you do?"
"Nothing, I just set you all up on a double date for next weekend. That way all four of you can get some quality time. Though, between you and me, I don't really think Aubrey is going to last." She rolls her eyes, frowning as though to say typical.
But I'm still caught on her last words. "You set us up on a what?"
"A double date, the four of you. Ollie has an early shift at the restaurant on Saturday, so I thought dinner or something that night would be perfect. I mean, if you can make it, Patrick."
I glance at Patrick, whose jaw has also fallen slack. His eyes find mine, widening with some alarm.
"You set me, Patrick, Ollie, and Aubrey up on a date?" I repeat.
"Did you hit your head during the fall?" Bridget asks, eyebrows rising higher by the second. "A double date. Yes. You, Patrick, Ollie, and Aubrey."
"And Ollie agreed to this?" I question.
"Actually, he came up with the idea."
I lean back against my seat, deflated. Why am I not surprised? More importantly, what the heck is he planning?
"Saturday night you said?" Patrick asks, turning to Bridget. She nods. "I can do Saturday night."
And there's just a little bit too much joy in those words. My questioning changes—just what in the heck is Patrick planning?
"Skylar, does Saturday work for you?" he asks. I narrow my eyes, trying to read his expression. But I can't. He might apparently be my boyfriend, but I still haven't known him long enough to decipher what meaning hides behind the green flames in his eyes, sparkling with some sort of mischief.
Every fiber of my being urges me to say no. No! Just say it, come on. Nip it in the bud. But of course, this pops out instead, "Um, sure."
I really am a glutton for punishment.
Ugh.
A few minutes later we arrive at the emergency room, which really looks more like rejected circus performers anonymous with all of the bright colors and costumes. Patrick, Bridget, and I settle in between Dracula and Medusa, waiting our turn to see a doctor. And all I think as I ease into my chair, is holy crap, it's going to be a long night. And I'm not sure if I'm talking about this one, or the double date I just barricaded myself into.
I repeat. Ugh.
There is one benefit to knowing someone for your entire life. Sure, Ollie has dirt on me. And well, a lot of it, because as you know, I have issues. But I also have dirt on him. Oh you know, just little things like he used to let Bridge and I braid his hair—butterfly clips, fake pink hair strands, glittery ties, the whole shebang. And, yes, before you ask, I have the photos to prove it. Dirt!