36 | ruined

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E P I G R A P H

The ocean and you; my happy place.

thirty six | ruined

Halo's POV

"If you'll excuse us, I'd like to go have a word with your girlfriend."

Holt glared at Santana, I stood there awkwardly feeling extremely uncomfortable that Holt just found out about her and me because she couldn't keep her trap shut, that and now she wants to speak about me.

Holt nodded, "Go for it." he told Santana, "Bring her upstairs when you're finished."

I rolled my eyes, "Firstly, I am not his girlfriend." I retorted, "And secondly, I do not need to be bought to you, I'll come to find you if I want too."

I get it, he cares, but I am not some child. I can take care of myself and I do not need to be bought back to him, I can find my way perfectly on my own. I'm not as weak as I look.

Holt nodded, clearly not wanting to argue which I was grateful for, "Keep an eye on her." he said directed towards Santana before turning around and heading back up the stairs.

I watched as his broad figure ascended the stairs before he disappeared down the hallway, turning my attention to Santana whom still stood next to me with her arm slung over my shoulders like we were best friends.

It felt strange.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" I asked curiously.

She smirked, "Come get a drink with me."

I followed because, in all honesty, I would rather be with her rather than Holt right now. I was excited to come here and spend time with him, whether that be as friends or. . .whatever, something is always better than nothing, but tonight—I don't know, something just feels off.

I came here for him, to talk to him and gain some understanding as to why he has been so absent lately, but I don't understand why he bought me here of all places to talk. Maybe it's just a distraction, as in a smoke-weed-and-put-it-off distraction.

Today is filled with maybes. Maybe he isn't ready, maybe he doesn't want to talk, maybe he doesn't even want me here.

Maybe I really really like him. Ha, who am I kidding? Liking him is a definite, not a maybe.

I just expected tonight to be different. We drove here which was alright, we talked and joked but then me being me--I couldn't resist, so I had to bring up the fact that he chose this awkward and not so relationship-like relationship status and that was it, the whole night was doomed once I uttered those mere few words.

We entered the party and it was average, nothing out of the ordinary. Holt led me upstairs and then he delved into a meaningless conversation with his friends, disassociating from everything around him as smoke filled his lungs, so I took that as an opportunity to sneak back downstairs and get a drink quickly, grabbing two so that I could skull one down on the journey back.

As I returned, Holt panicked until he realized I was back—and just in a nick of time—then we went back downstairs after I admitted how horrible and boring this event was, which then led me to try to lighten the mood and rid of some tension by dancing like a lunatic. Holt smiled the whole time as I did so and it gave me hope.

His grey orbs concentrated on nothing else in the room but me as I swayed back and forth, dancing completely on my own and then as soon as he gives in to my encouragement to dancing, Santana waltzes on over and demolishes the once light atmosphere.

"Hello," she waved her hand in front of my face, "earth to Halo."

I blinked, "What?" I shrieked.

"Are you deaf?"

I nodded, "Sometimes."

"Just follow me." she whined.

God, this girl is stubborn.

I followed her through the movement of drunk teenagers, entering the kitchen where the alcohol covered countertop was, where I had been a mere twenty minutes ago, downing a guava flavored cruiser.

Santana grabbed two skull-shaped shot glasses out of the top cupboard of the kitchen, sliding them onto the bench before grabbing a bottle of gin and filling the shot glass to the rim, then sliding it across to me carefully.

I grabbed the petite glass, tipping my head back as the liquid splashed down my throat, the strongness of the substance burning the walls of my throat like poison.

I cringed, placing the glass back on the bench, the collision of the glass against the marbled countertop causing an echo.

"Another one?"

I nodded.

Four shots later, I was tipsy. Call me a lightweight, but four or five shots is all I needed to feel like I was on top of the world dancing on the clouds, looking down at everyone below me like they were meaningless and my presence was the equivalent to pure royalty.

"So, what'd you want to talk to me about?" I asked honestly.

Santana grinned, her perfectly straight teeth on full display, "I told you the other day that I'd tell you about Holt, about what he says about you."

My senses flooded with realization as I remembered the dinner with Aubrey and my father, going into the restroom to get some air when she came in and claimed Holt has made her extremely familiar with who I am.

"You don't have to tell me."

It's his business, honestly. If he is telling her something and not me, obviously Holt doesn't want me to know otherwise he would have told me himself.

Santana rolled her eyes, "Quit the innocent 'i want to protect his privacy' act." my eyes widened, well okay then, "The shit he said about you was fuckin' adorable and obviously by the tension between you two, you need to hear it."

My cheeks flushed with red, "You noticed that?"

She nodded, "I think everyone within a one-meter radius could feel it."

I didn't know it was that bad.

"Damn," I laughed lightly, leaning against the counter, "okay, well enlighten me then."

Santana flicked her bronzed hair off her shoulder, raising one of her perfectly arched eyebrows, "He said that you broke his heart. He said that you ruined him, you being with Zayden and Everest ruined him."

My heart sunk. What?

I ruined him. . .I—I broke him?

"I thought you said this stuff was cute?" I think that sentence literally just tore me in half.

"It is, I'm getting there!" she exclaimed, raising her voice slightly, "He said that you make him feel, he said that he put these walls up to keep himself from getting hurt, but in his words 'she didn't need to climb those walls, she found a secret door and entered with ease'."

And just like that, my heart rose back to its place, the steady beat of my heart becoming more rapid as it filled with angst and adoration.

Did he say that about me? I always knew like me he had these tall protective walls built up because Holt and I do not trust easily, we're lovers, not haters. Well, Holt has a different approach to showing it, but I know that despite his bad-boy image, he can't hate, his kind soul is incapable of it. He loves, he is caring and that is exactly why he encased himself between four tall walls.

Holt is protecting himself, he's hurt and he still aches. I do too, sometimes. But I think Holt found a door for me too because I cannot even pinpoint a clear moment when I decided to let him in, it just happened.

Maybe it was a few months back when I had an anxiety attack and without knowing, I searched for him. he found me. He always finds me. I remember his soft words "angel. . .I need you to speak to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

That same moment, he realized how enticed I was by the art on his arm. He used that to his advantage and he told me the meaning of everyone I asked about.

I distinctively remember the one that situated on his upper arm 'don't tell me how to feel' it said in black lettering.

'it's just a big fuck you to my parents, really.' he said making me laugh.

That day was really a turning point for us. We realized we can trust each other and help each other.

Maybe it wasn't that time either, maybe it was the day he took me to go get ice-cream and remembered my favorite flavor after years, or maybe it was the day he defended me in front of Xavier in Zayden, or maybe it was that night at Alix's party where we kissed for the first time.

We touched and our bodies entangled on the random bed, our mouths moving against each other with ease. That night was the first night I had truly felt alive in so long, my heart raced, my lips were swollen from his passionate assault.

God, it's been so long since I have had his lips against mine. When even was the last time? I think it was at that party honestly.

"He really likes you, hon." she said pulling me out of Holt-land.

I smiled widely, nodding, "I really like him too."

"Is he coming to the wedding?"

I shook my head, "I wasn't going to ask him," I sighed, "It's not really his scene."

It's just before Christmas. A week before, which I am grateful for, that way I'll be able to use my arm properly without having to wear an ugly sling. I wouldn't have been pleased if I had to wear an extravagant dress with a healing arm.

"I'm sure he'd love to come," she rolled her eyes, "for you."

I smiled, "We'll see."

I'm not completely opposed by the idea, I just don't know if I'll be able to restrict myself if I see Holt in a suit, I might end up getting married, kidding, I'm too young, I think. But that'd mean Holt and I in a hotel, if he ends up sliding the friend title away, I don't even know what I'd do but it would be steamy.

I mean how can you be in a room with the Holt Stone and not feel the slightest ounce of attraction because friends or not, I feel that whenever I am near him.

"Let's go dance." she said, and it was probably the best thing I had heard all night

I pushed myself off the counter, following her out of the kitchen and to the—what was once a living room but now is a dance floor for drunk teenagers.

We forced our way through the crowd, planting ourselves in the center when Santana then grabbed both of my hands with hers, moving around as I had been earlier. It wasn't graceful nor attractive, but it was funny and entertaining.

I began to do the same thing and as we swayed along to the beat of the music, the dozens of people around us began to spread out, forming a circle around us, making Santana and I the stars of the show. . .or dance floor in this case.

Santana and I seemed to be the only ones enjoying ourselves currently. We had some alcohol in our systems, we're dancing and overall having a rather pleasant time.

Our moves weren't elegant nor refined, but people seemed impressed nonetheless or more so amused.

"This party kind of sucks," I mumbled, "everyone seems so bored."

Santana pouted, "This is my party."

My eyes widened. This is her party? It makes sense as to why she's here considering it was supposedly being thrown by some kid from Trinity Academy, but I never thought about Santana being the hostess.

"Oops." I cringed, "Well, I'm sorry, but your party sucks."

Santana rolled her eyes, "It was meant to be my leaving Trinity Academy party, I expected more people to show up, but the only people that came are the ones that hated me and just want free drinks." she explained, her voice showing sadness and my heart ached for her, "None of my friends came, so I guess that shows how they feel about me leaving."

"They aren't worth it." I told her honestly, "So, you're coming to Moonvale High? I thought you would've stayed at Trinity considering there are only six months left."

She shook her head, "This party is a pure representation as to why I do not want to stay."

"Fair enough."

Santana nodded, "How do you feel about this whole marriage thing?"

My eyes widened, I have many thoughts on that topic. "Neutral, I guess." I replied honestly, "I'm just happy my dad found someone good. He deserves good."

She smiled warmly, "He's here a lot, he makes my mom really happy."

"I think it'll be harder for Max," I sighed, "he was always closer to my mom, so it'll be hard for him to adjust to having another parental figure around again, that isn't his actual mother."

Max has been rather quiet since finding out about Aubrey and dad sealing the deal. But I am sure he'll get used to it eventually, we all will. It'll just be strange for a while.

"I think we'll make a good family." Santana said, "Even though I fucked your boyfriend."

I glared at her, "Not trying to flex or anything. . .but the night he bought you to that party, he told you to fuck off because he wanted to be with me instead."

Her eyes widened, but despite our harsh words, they were teasing, "Just a tip, he really loves to hit it from behind."

My cheeks reddened and I smacked her playfully, "I think I am reconsidering you being my sister."

"Too late for that now." she grinned, "Don't worry, he's all yours."

I wish.

Our conversation ceased to silence and we delved back into dancing erratically, the crowd around us cheering loudly as we jumped up and down.

I have to admit, Santana isn't as artificial and satanic as I thought. She is mature enough to acknowledge the past and present, she is aware I like him and seems to be more than happy to back off and for that, I praise her. The night I first met her, I thought she was a downright petty bitch that needed to go find someone else to cling onto, the second part still applies but she isn't a bitch, obviously, it's just a façade, because the person I am dancing with right now has nothing on the girl I met last month.

"Can I join?" some guy asked from the opposite side of the circle.

He was tall, not as tall as Holt but still tall nonetheless. Blonde. Blue eyes. A Zayden junior practically. I don't like Zayden's; lucky Holt has black hair and grey eyes otherwise we'd have a slight problem. Who am I kidding? I'd happily jump into his arms regardless of his looks.

I glared at him, shooting his daggers with my eyes, but he didn't seem to notice or care. Then, without my consent as well, she welcomed him to our little dance circle and he began dancing more pathetically than I way.

It was pathetic because I wasn't trying, he was and he looked like a complete imbecile doing it.

Zayden junior stood in between Santana and I, dancing strangely, his friends cheering him on as he wrapped his arms around both mine and Santana's shoulders. I groaned, rolling my eyes.

I then discretely shrugged his arm off me, stepping away slightly before continuing to dance by myself.

As I turned away from them, my eyes caught sight of Holt. The six-foot-something tall bad boy with jet black hair, an entirely black outfit and an adorable smile plastered to his lips, a few strands of his dark hair bleeding over his forehead. Art. He is pure art.

No wonder I can't keep drawing aspects of him. He is the human form of perfection, dimples, silly tattoos and all.

I smiled widely back at him, all my teeth on full display as his storm-filled irises capture my honey-colored ones.

I waved him over, but he shook my head, 'please' I mouthed, I'll do anything, just come dance with me.

He grinned further 'you come here' he mouthed back, but I then shook my head.

I chuckled, wishing I could walk over there grab her and smash my lips against hers, so Zayden junior leaves her alone, but it wasn't that simple.

He chuckled as I pouted, wishing he could just stride on over her and kiss me while everyone can watch. Short or long, I'll pour my heart and soul into the lush lips pressed against mine, I would use my lips to tell him everything I cannot say. But unfortunately, that was not going to happen.

I then proceeded to go on with dancing when I felt a large hand press against my behind, groping it as though it belonged to him. I turned around in a flash, pressing my small hands to his chest before shoving his with every ounce of strength within me, but obviously, he didn't take a hint considering all he did was laugh in response.

he then carried on to grip at my waist, tugging me flush against himself.

My eyes widened as Holt rushed over and physically shoved him off me, placing me behind him whilst Santana scurried away, leaving me here alone and concerned.

"Whoa," the jerk slurred, "what's your problem, bro?"

Holt clenched my jaw, "You are." he said threateningly yet his tone was calm and his figure stiff.

"Was that your girl?" Zayden junior asked and when Holt couldn't answer, he smirked widely, "Obviously not, otherwise you wouldn't let her come here in that dress." he licked his lips in a predatory manner.

My dress? He can't be serious. It's the twenty-first century for god sake, there are so many genders I cannot count and many sexualities as well as clothing, I think I can wear a red dress and be as equivalent as everyone else here.

My blood boiled, "Her choice of clothing doesn't determine her relationship status." Holt growled.

I'm still single, though. So that is just marvelous.

"Nah, it just means she's a slut." he laughed, his immature friends cheering him on somewhere in the crowd.

My eyes widened. Halo storm, the virgin with a kiss count being three, is a slut? Wow, that's a new one. People need to create new insults because a slut isn't one. In my personal opinion, as long as you're being yourself, who cares if that makes someone a slut.

Holt laughed, though it wasn't humorous in the slightest. It was laced with venom and anger, it sent a chill down my spine. "Oh, so you're one of those guys?"

He scowled, "What guys?"

"The ones that call a girl a slut just because they're pussies that don't get their own way."

Everyone laughed, cheering him on—me included—which just angered Zayden junior further. He knew it was true, it is completely true. How do I know that? Because I dated one of those guys.

Zayden junior was unable to answer, all comebacks leaving him, so instead, he raised his fist. He was extremely reluctant, which is why Holt was able to catch it swiftly, twisting his wrist earning a wince.

I cringed, wanting to pull Holt back, but I knew it would be better not too, not right now at least.

"Say sorry to her and I'll leave you alone." Holt nodded towards me and at that moment I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

He shook his head, "Fuck off." he spat, his fist coming towards Holt once again.

This time Holt let it hit him, the rivals fist colliding against Holt's mouth, splitting his bottom lip open as blood immediately began to trickle out slowly.

Holt chuckled before stepping forwards, looking down at him with a devilish grin before his fist crashing into the side of the other guys' jaw, a loud crunch sounding. That was enough to send him to the floor before Holt got on top of him, straddling him as he sent his face punch after punch.

He physically could not move nor get in a single ounce of defense.

My eyes were wide as I watched in fear. Holt looked like a monster, his eyes dark and vacant as his fists repeatedly collided against the poor guy below him. He deserved it, I'll admit, but not this hard. Everyone looked horrified, myself included.

"Holt!" I

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