The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 12

"Sorry." I apologise the second he catches us, our faces unnaturally close.

I'm suddenly conscious of my breasts squashed against his almost exposed chest, more tattoos poking out of the unbuttoned black material. His hand is flat against the small of my back left warming the skin there, spurring goosebumps as a shiver runs down my spine.

The vest he wore on our first meeting falls from his forearm meeting the sand in a silent fff sound as I shove him backward, trying to shield my overbearing cleavage and abdomen. The absence of his heat blocking the cool makes me long for the skin contact again.

"Where's Scout? Don't be so nosy, what do you want?" I fail tremendously at attempting to come across braver than I am, well aware of my bird nest hair.

My heart might explode, I've never been that physically close to someone before... especially a boy... while bare-skinned. God, my face won't stop turning darker shades of scarlet.

"Actually... I forgot." Andy doesn't bother hide his taking in my appearance, an almost lustful look of approval in his eye. I really wish I hadn't worn such a thin sports bra, I'm almost spilling out even when I cross my arms trying to minimise the surface area.

"Andrew Biersack!" He gets shoved again by an up-in-his-face Scout who reappears from behind the rock face. "What the hell? I go to get another drink and come back to this? Come on, you know this isn't cool. She's barely had a chance to settle in and you're already trying your moves on her in this state?"

"Don't talk about what you don't know, Taylor." He snaps, frowning with rage. 

"Don't call me Taylor, Dennis." She retorts through clenched teeth, seething with anger. I remember the last time someone called Scout by her middle name, their week long black eye spoke for itself.

"It's fine, Scout lets just get a drink—" They don't acknowledge me, continuing to bicker. He alternates between arguing with her and eyeing me, his lip piercing moves with the ever changing shapes of his mouth.

The way I was feeling, heated and short of breath, scared me. "You're acting like you've never seen a pair of breasts before." She growls to which he replies, emphasising his gestures at her chest. "Not that large that's for sure, how would you know? You barely fill a decent b cup bra." He ducks under her open hand prepped to land a slap.

They fight like siblings which I find entertaining but I wouldn't be so uncomfortable if the subject didn't surround my breast size.

Their argument provides an opportunity for me to take his sand covered vest, dusting off the grain and buttoning the front once it was on. Making sure I was completely covered by his the one size too large shirt, I'm fed up."Hey!" 

They are taken aback by my sudden interference, attracting some heads meters away at the Fire Pit. Specifically aiming my sentence at a perplexed Andy. "Can we drop this already? I want to at least try and enjoy some part of the night."

"Hey, what gives you the right? Thats my vest—"

"Until we leave, it's mine," the conviction in my voice surprises me and Scout —who remains unblinking like a robot processing the information— flashes a prideful smirk.

"I'll give it back to you at the end of the night." I snap.

Honestly, I didn't want to spend any longer in his ripped style clothes than necessary, considering it smells distinctly of testosterone. Charging past him I wrench Scout away by the elbow starting toward the camp chairs which are now occupied. 

"What's this?" A plastic cup is passed to me from unknown hands.

I don't risk drinking it, instead gazing into the crackling fire, sitting cross legged on the sand next to Scout dangling her legs over the pit edge.

Ffsshht

The crushing of a beer can captures our attention, a quiet hush runs over the gathering. "Whose up for some Never Have I Ever?!" The crowd divides into supportive hoots and annoyed whines. Those who wish to participate huddle around the fire as more logs are added increasing the heat.

Andy's vest leaves my arms exposed to the full strength of the burning fire cultivating the heat. Not so fortunately he joins us, seated in a recently vacated emerald chair directly opposite us. He winks at us looking down the neck of a glass bottle while he drains the liquid. 

Scout responds by flipping him off.

"Jake is notorious for this game." She nods to the bandana wearing guy who spoke, black eyeshadow and liner smeared around his glassy eyes.

"Any takers?"

An extravagantly pierced girl lifts a petty finger off her chair arm. "Fire away." Chris says, falling down in a drunken heap.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex." A group of them —including him and Scout— sip their drinks in hand.

Oh ok, so who ever has done what you've said has to drink to show that they did it, right? Seems simple enough. Only issue is, I've never done anything worth speaking about.

"Never have I ever left my house without my underwear." Ten or so people gulp their chosen poison.

What has Scout gotten me into this time?!