Ferrari (1) DRAFT

13

"I can't get it off!" I cry, scrubbing my loofa over my skin.

"Get what off?" Oliver questions, but I can't see his expression.

He's sitting on the toilet outside the shower curtain. I thought having him near me would urge me to stop crying. I'd feel safer and less alone, and that's just what I need right now.

I got in the shower as soon as I got home. Oliver didn't push me too much about what happened. He doesn't know why I need to shower so badly, but he understands why I don't want to talk about it just yet. I need to process it.

Oliver was hesitant about staying in the bathroom while I showered, but I assured him not to worry. It's nothing inappropriate. I've been in here for at least 20 minutes now, scrubbing and washing my skin.

Suddenly, I have an idea.

I turn the shower head off, and reach for my towel on the wall. I quickly dry myself off, and wrap the towel around me.

Oliver stand up from the toilet to help me over the edge of the bathtub. I take the hand he offers me, and secure the towel over my chest.

"Are you sure you're okay with me being here?" he asks, the doubt evident through the creases of his frown.

I nod. "Could you maybe do something for me?"

"Of course," he aggress. "What is it?"

My hair is soaking, but I still tie it up in a knot at the back of my head. I grab a jar of charcoal, mud, and cement face mask out of one of the shelves. My mum bought me this for one of my birthdays once, but it was too rough for me. When I took it off, it felt like I was removing my skin. That's exactly what I need.

"Could you just rub some of this over my neck and between my shoulders?" I ask.

He gives me a quizzical look, but nods anyway. I open the jar, and let him dip his fingers in. He barely touches me, but the mask runs over my skin. He follows my directions and forms a rectangle shape from my neck to between my shoulder blades.

"I need more," I tell him.

He nods, and applies a second coat. I smear some over my shoulder and arm myself, where the first boy spat on me.

I make Oliver apply a third coat, and then place the jar back in the cupboard. I look up at him in the mirror. He towers over me, but the mirror is big enough to fit both of us.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened now?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I just need to get this over with first."

"What exactly is this for?" he asks, motioning to the mask on my neck.

"To clear my skin," I tell him.

"From what?"

I sigh, and look away. He groans in frustration from behind me, and takes a step back.

"Look, Lucy," he begins. "I want to help you, but you've got to let me."

"You are helping me," I tell him. "I just need to do this first."

He raises his eyebrows, and lets out a disgruntled breathe.

"I'm sorry you had to come," I say. "Liam was in an exam, and Mary was busy. I didn't think that you'd be working."

"Lucy," he sighs. "If anything, I wish you'd have called me sooner."

"I don't want to be a bother," I admit.

"I want to be the first person you call if anything happens," he tells me. "Besides Mary and Liam, of course, but they're closest to you. And I'd like you to see me as that close to you."

I smile. "I can't believe I thought you were so angry when ai first met you."

"You did?" he frowns. "You're important to me, Lucy, even before I actually met you. You should see me as your go-to person when your brother isn't around."

"I like you, Oliver," I grin. "I really do."

He gives me a sweet smile, his lips remaining pressed together. There's something shining in his eyes, making my smile grow.

I'm not sure if he's being so kind to me because he actually cares about me, or just because I'm his best friends younger sister. The genuineness in his voice tells me it's all him, but I don't want to trust my instincts completely just yet. Either way, my appreciation towards him still stands.

The face mask begins stinging much more than usual, so I wet a hand towel, and scrub it off my arm. But I'm not gentle.

"Wow, wow, wow," Oliver takes a step over to me. "Are you sure you should be that rough?"

I nod, and rub as hard as I can, putting as much pressure as possible on the spot. It hurts like crazy, but it's only good. That means it's working. I rub back and forth, scrubbing my skin as roughly as possible.

"Lucy, relax, you're going to draw blood," Oliver moves in even closer, about to stop my hand.

I pull the towel away, and sure enough, the mask is gone. There's a few little dots of blood, and small circles of dead skin little red on the area. It definitely feels cleaner.

I smile, and raise my eyebrows at Oliver.

"Your turn," I say, handing him the towel.

He sighs, unhappy with what I'm asking of him. I eye him in the mirror, taking in the frown on his face. He places the towel on my neck, but he doesn't scrub like I did. He rubs it off as gently as he possibly could, but I don't want to push him too much.

"Could you just rub a bit harder please?" I ask.

"No," Oliver says.

"No?"

"No way."

"What?" I scoff. "Why not?"

"I'm not going to be that rough with you."

"But you need to!"

"Why?!"

"Otherwise it won't work!" I exclaim.

"What won't?"

"I need to get him off me!" I call.

Oliver freezes, his face instantly dropping. I let my frustration get the best of me. His eyes fill with fury. He takes a step away from me, resting his hand my his side. My eyes momentarily flicker down to his fists, watching his knuckles clench and unclench.

"What the fuck happened?" he demands. "Who ducking touched you?"

"Oliver, I don't want to get upset again," I say.

He takes a deep breath, shitting his eyes briefly to calm himself.

"Lucy," he begins. "I need you to tell me who touched you."

I hesitate for a second, my eyes shooting all over the room. Finally, I decide to get it over with.

"Jack Matthews," I say, my voice a mere whisper.