Free Finding Evan by Lisa Swallow Page A

wall next to me. He snakes an arm around my waist. I dig my nails into his hand but he won’t let go. “Fuck off, mate,” he says.
    Ollie.
    “Ness?” His widened eyes fix on my torn dress.
    I shake my head at him, tears forming. “Get him away!”
    Ollie grabs the guy by the T-shirt and jerks him backwards so he falls across the sofa. “I don’t think she’s interested.”
    “Yeah?” He turns his drunken eyes to me.
    I refuse to meet them. “Ollie, I want to go home.”
    “Not much of a fucking boyfriend, is he?” retorts the guy. “Leaving you here on your own while he parties with his mates.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m here now. Fuck off.” Ollie straightens, taking on an intimidating stance. He’s a few inches taller than the sleazy guy, and heavier built. “Go. Now. Before I fucking punch you!”
    “Fine,” he mutters. The guy holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat and backs away, blending into the crowds. I slide down the condensation-covered wall, landing on the floor, and my dress rides up to my knees. The dress falls down at the front where he ripped it, and I hold the strap up, reddening as Ollie’s gaze quickly shifts from where I was exposed.
    Ollie crouches down. “You okay?”
    I chew inside my mouth, biting back the growing hysteria. I don’t want him to see that I’m not. “I want to go home. Can you get me a cab?”
    “Come on.” He takes me under the arms and pulls me to my feet. I slump against his chest, pleased for the support. Physical and otherwise.
    “Just get me a cab,” I mumble.
    “I’ll take you home. Honestly, Ness…”
    “I didn’t want him to do it!” I shriek, pushing at him.
    “No, I was talking about how drunk you are. Not that scum touching you up.”
    His strange calmness soothes me. Ollie picks up my shoes, and then guides me through the throng and down the stairs; all the while, I grip onto his arm. Outside, the winter air hits a tiny piece of sobriety into me and I drop onto the pavement edge, head in my hands. I’m not the only one – there’s a few other girls staggering around or slumped near me. I place a palm on the bitumen path and focus on not vomiting, ignoring the way the ground moves around.
    Voices mingle behind and I catch snatches of conversations.
    “So you’re not coming back with me?” A girl’s voice.
    “No. I’ve got to take my friend home.” Ollie’s talking to someone. The same person? Sonya? I’d turn and see who, but if I move I might throw up.
    “Friend?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Do I get a kiss goodbye at least?” I doubt she’s sober either from the sound of her voice.
    I’ve no idea if he does or not, but moments later, heels click away and Ollie crouches back by me. “How’re you doing?”
    I can’t hold the nausea anymore, and I retch the contents of my stomach over Ollie’s boots and the pavement. I groan and to my surprise, he laughs at me.
    “This is a whole new side to you, Ness. You’ll never make a proper med student if you can’t hold your drink.”
    I ignore him and put my head back on my knees, wishing I could wash the bitter taste from my mouth. And the memory of the guy from my mind. Car wheels appear on the road in front, and a few moments later, Ollie helps me inside. The smell of the taxi air freshener turns my stomach and I gag.
    “She’s not getting in here if she’s going to be sick!” protests the driver.
    “She won’t be; she already has.” Ollie leans around and straps me in.
    As the car moves away, I hold my head against the window and close my eyes. “Sorry.”
    “You’re not the first drunk girl I’ve helped. And I doubt you’ll be the last.” At least he’s amused and not pissed off. And not mentioning what he just saw.
    “Sorry for the girl.”
    “What girl?”
    “The one you left. Who wanted to kiss you.”
    Ollie snorts. “I didn’t want to kiss her. You probably helped me out.”
    “Not as much as you helped me out.”
    “True.”
    The journey consists of