A Shot of Arrogance (Chapter Seven)

A Shot of Arrogance ~ Chapter Seven

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I stared in front of me, unsure of what to do. Oliver and I were standing side by side as the group of teenagers strutted closer towards us. I felt Oliver grab me for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Tori! There’s another flight of stairs behind us, go down them.”
What was wrong with him? What did he think those kids were going to do? They just looked like the rest of the bad mannered teenagers around this block of flats.
“No.” I sniffed at him, leaning back against the balcony.
“Victoria!” Oliver was shouting at me now. “Just go!"
Although, his voice was more or less drowned out by the group of people that were now yards away from us. They were still shouting extremely rudely, if I may say so myself, at Oliver.
“Wouldn’t it make a lot more sense if we just went into your flat?” I tried knocking some sense into him as I myself began feeling slightly agitated.
“No, we... we can’t.” He said.
It was too late now anyway. The next thing I knew, there was a harsh looking face almost pressed against my own. In front of me was a girl who's hair was tied back into a tight, greasy ponytail. She was smirking as she annoyingly chewed on the piece of gum that was in her mouth.
“Who are you ‘en, babe?” She laughed in my face. “The Queen’s kid or somethin’?”
She clearly wasn’t well educated enough to realise that I was not, in fact, Princess Anne. I was about to correct her when I was interrupted by Oliver.
Suddenly, his arm was forced in between the girl and I, followed by Oliver’s body. Now in front of me, he pushed the girl away as she smiled at him before winking. I couldn’t help but notice him cursing under his breath.
“She’s a bit classy for you, kid.” The boy with a baseball cap on snickered, looking at Oliver. “You payin’ for her services, is it?” The group began laughing as he spoke.
The second I realised what he meant, I felt an ounce of rage burning in my veins. I gritted my teeth harshly as the boy continued speaking.
“Do they have posh prostitute’s nowadays?” he said, now looking at me.
Them thinking that I would do anything of the kind with Oliver was bad enough, but calling me some kind of disgusting slut? Practically grinding my teeth together, I nudged Oliver out of my way and turned to the boy who'd just spoken.
“Do you know who I am?” I spat at him. “If I told my dad about you and what you just said to me, you would be in a hell of a lot of trouble!”
The group responded by simply laughing loudly, obviously amused with me. I was about to get horribly angry at them when Oliver, once again, pulled me back.
Keeping hold of me, Oliver kept me behind him as he stepped towards the boy in the baseball cap. “What do you want?” he asked seriously.
The boy turned to him, still laughing. As the last chuckle escaped his lips, his grin slowly turned into a weary looking smirk. “I’ve been hearin’ stuff about you, Poynter.”
The cockiness in the boy’s voice had now been replaced by a hint of annoyance. I swallowed hard, trying to clear my dry throat. I was beginning to wish that I had left when Oliver had told me to.
I could feel myself breathing heavily and slowly, trying to do so as quietly as possible. I didn’t want to miss out on a word that was being said. I didn’t really want to irritate this boy either; I really didn’t like him. I could feel my palms sweating as the boy continued talking.
“You been messin’ around with my sister?” the boy’s face was right in front of Oliver’s now.
By messing around, I was pretty certain that he didn’t mean cheating in a game of Monopoly.
The boy was narrowing his eyes as he grabbed one of Oliver’s arms. Oliver mimicked his expression, but it didn’t last long. After a few seconds, I couldn’t help but notice his lips curve upwards slightly.
“There’s more chance of me screwin’ you than your sister, Kenzie. She looks like a dog.” Oliver grinned. “Smells like one too. Tell her to try Sure, it works a charm.”
To think I’d been beginning to wonder why I thought he was such an idiot. Who in their right mind said something like that to someone who was bigger, and certainly scarier, than themselves? Mind you, what kind of name was Kenzie? Before anyone could say anything else, Kenzie pulled his arm back before thrusting it forward again, knocking Oliver hard in the face.
From then on, it felt as though everything happened within the next ten seconds. As Oliver fell backwards and Kenzie spat at him, cursing, I simply stared. Everyone was shouting by now. Everyone except for me. Why wasn’t anyone coming out of their flats? Surely, someone must have heard all of the shouting? We were right outside Oliver’s flat; where were his parents?
As quickly as he’d fallen, Oliver jumped back up, scarlet-red liquid slowly dripping down his left eye. He then did the most sensible thing he could have possibly done by repeating Kenzie’s actions and swinging his fist towards him. The shouting became louder as the group egged on the fight.
While everyone else seemed to be having the times of their lives watching the boys fight, my entire body was frozen in horror. My heart was beating out of time as my breathing quickened. Had Oliver completely forgotten that I was here? Why was I here? I knew this wasn’t a good idea, so why did I have to be so stupid and come to this mess of a place?
Finally regaining myself, I quickly turned away. I had no idea who was winning the fight, and I didn’t really care either. I just had to get out of here. The screaming voices shattered my eardrums as I hurriedly tried to push past the gang of youths. All of a sudden, I felt a cold hand grasp my sweating arms.
“Where do you think you’re going, babes?” one of the kids pale faces was in front of mine.
Without giving me a chance to protest, he pulled me back towards the gang, instantly making me yelp and kick at him.
I was shocked when instead of pulling me back towards the fight, he kept on pulling me until we passed the group and continued walking. Aggressively kicking my legs and waving my arms, I tried to break free of his grasp but it was useless. Snickering, he shoved me against the wall. I hadn’t realised how far away from the others we were until the pale boy had me pinned against the rough wall.
The boy began laughing as I continued to hopelessly kick, push, shove, and do anything else I could think of to try and get him off me. Still with a firm grasp on me, the boy reached his hands down towards the zipper on his jeans.
“Oliver!” I screamed until my lungs hurt. “Oliver!”
The pale boy quickly lifted his hand back up and covered my mouth, spitting in my face as he told me to shut up. Forcing the tears out of my eyes, I moved his hand off my face.
“Oliver!” I felt tears falling down my cheeks. “Oliver! Help!”
That was when boy kneed me in the stomach. I gasped for breath. Every part of my body shook. He shoved me against the wall again. This time, I didn't fight back. I just wanted to go home. It was dark. Cold. I was going to be sick.
Once again, the boy's hand creeped down for the zipper on his stained jeans. I stood limply against the wall as tears splashed out of my eyes. My hair was blowing all over my red face. The faint smell of urine circled my nostrils. I felt the boy's breath on my ear. I’d given up on fighting back now; he was too strong for me. I simply shut my eyes. The boy’s hand firmly stroked my leg. His warm breath ran down my neck.
“Get the hell off her!”
All of a sudden, the grasp that was previously on my arms was released as my eyes shot open. The second I opened them, I saw a wonderfully familiar face. The pale boy was now lying on the floor, rubbing his head and groaning. I stood there. Shaking.
“Tori? Tori, are you okay?” Oliver’s deep green eyes looked into mine as he gently held my arm.
I nodded slowly, shaking, as Oliver kept his gaze on me. That boy... he'd... he'd tried to... What if Oliver hadn't heard me? What if the boy had seen Oliver before he pushed him out of the way? I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Nothing felt real anymore. I didn't want to feel anything anymore. I wanted to be numb. The past few seconds replayed in my head, over and over again like some broken film. The boy's face. His smirk. His pointed nose. His horrible voice. That was all I could think about. What if Oliver hadn't stopped him...?
"Tori, what did he do to you?" Oliver asked, his eyes locked onto me.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't answer him. I was completely dazed. I simply gaped at Oliver blankly. His one eye was bleeding as well as his lip which had already began to swell. His bare chest was red and it wasn’t hard to tell that it would soon be badly bruised.
How Oliver had gotten to me was unclear, especially because it was the entire gang against him. Maybe they'd gone? I couldn't hear shouting anymore. Quite frankly, I didn't care about how Oliver broke free from the fight. All that I cared about right now was that he was here. With me.
Wiping my eyes, I buried my head into Oliver’s chest. I heard him wince in pain slightly as I felt my body shaking violently against his. Oliver wrapped his arms around me as an overwhelming feeling took over me. It wasn’t a feeling of sudden love or anything like that, it just felt... safe. As quickly and suddenly as I’d began shaking, I stopped. Every worry flowed out of my mind as his warm chest pressed against me.
“Tori, we need to ge-” Oliver’s comforting voice was interrupted by a much less comforting one.
Kenzie grabbed Oliver and spun him around so that his arms were no longer wrapped around me. Every feeling of fear came rushing back into my body as Kenzie shot his arm back before hitting Oliver hard in the stomach. Kenzie kept his fist there for a few seconds as a small smirk spread across his face.
Oliver merely stared at him, wide eyed. Seconds later, Kenzie pulled his arm back with a grin still plastered on his face. He winked at Oliver before suddenly turning away, sprinting past us and back towards the block of stairs that I came up. Oliver fell to the dirty floor, grimacing with his hand over his stomach where Kenzie had hit him. He carefully leaned himself against the wall beside me.
“Who in God’s name are they?” I bent down slightly so that I was closer to Oliver. “Why didn’t you just leave it? Who in their right mind would have said something like that about that kid’s sister? Do you have any idea what they could have done to me? You are such an idiot!”
My fear was quickly replaced by anger and frustration. How dare he put me in this kind of danger! Anything could have happened then, didn’t Oliver realise that?
When Oliver didn’t respond to me, I called his name. When there was still no response, I bent down lower so that I was eye level with him. I was about to start shouting when I noticed that his eyelids were slowly flickering. My gaze lowered until I was looking at where his left hand was covering his stomach. In between his fingers, I could just make out a dark, ruby coloured liquid.
“Oliver?” I slowly moved his hand off his stomach.
Every part of me froze as the move of his hand revealed a stain of warm blood on his stomach. In the middle of the stain was a thin, but excruciatingly deep, flesh wound. Without any kind of hesitation, I took hold of his hand and pressed it back onto his stomach.
“Oliver?” my voice broke as I finished saying his name.
The blood racing through my body, I began rather violently tapping Oliver’s cheek. Oliver’s eyelids remained shut as I hastily started shaking his shoulder.
“Oliver?” I forced myself not to cry. “Oliver, wake up!”
I couldn’t breathe and every word I spoke felt as though it was choking me. I kept shaking Oliver, begging for some kind of response. There was nothing. Not a word, a mumble, a movement. Just the sound of my own shaking breath.
I was about to burst into tears when I noticed something that I should have noticed at the beginning. I looked down to see Oliver’s chest slowly moving. I felt a small, rather pathetic, ounce of hope.
Still with the choking feeling in my throat, I continued shaking Oliver, praying for him to open his eyes. Where had the group of teenagers gone? I didn’t even have my phone; what was I supposed to do? I peered down again to look at Oliver’s stomach. The blood was beginning to run down his fingers now, making me feel as though I was about to throw up.
“Oliver!” I cried, viciously tapping his cheeks before shaking him again. “Please, just wake up...!” I cried. “Ollie...”

Skinsy! I don't know why you say this is bad... I'll be honest, I think I liked this chapter the best. That said, I'm more of a sci-fi /horror girl than a romance type, but still.

I do actually have some nitpicks, though.


I don't feel like picking them out individually, so I'm just gonns put in your whole chapter and put my little nitpicks/comments in red.

Spoiler

A pair of bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at me through the small mirror at the front of the bus. The man who owned those eyes grunted something inaudible. Sniffing, he lifted his sleeve up to his nose and wiped it harshly. He then looked down at where he’d wiped his nose and pulled an extremely unattractive face.
I was beginning to regret getting onto this bus. I’d found out Oliver’s home address on my father’s computer and decided to return his phone to him. Without it, there was no way he’d end up turning up for work tomorrow. (okay, my only problem is this: Tori really doesn't care about Oliver. Why is she wasting time that she could have been, I dunno at a spa tracking him down in the slums?) I was going to take one of my chauffeurs and a car, but then I realised that it probably wasn’t a good idea. The last time I’d taken a car, my father had been angry with me for wasting it on ‘something stupid’. He’d probably class this as something stupid, knowing him.
The bus driver looked up at me strangely once again. I swore that if he didn’t stop staring at me, I’d walk the rest of the way. The bus itself didn’t even seem stable; it made this very bizarre crunching sound every time the wheels turned. Staring out of the windows, I saw a flash of different colours rush past my light blue (POV drop. You don't think about your own eyes when something goes by) eyes.
The further we drove, the blander those colours became. The greens turned into browns, the reds turned into faded oranges, and the chic blacks turned into dull greys. I knew that the East End wasn’t a beautiful place, but I thought it would have more colour in it than this. As the immaculate buildings were replaced by terraced houses with rubbish-filled gardens, I began fidgeting anxiously in my seat. Maybe coming here was a bad idea? I thought, biting my lip.
By the time we were well into Tower Hamlets, the area where Oliver lived- according to the piece of paper in my pocket- I really wasn’t sure about my decision to return Oliver’s phone. It wasn’t the cleanest of all places, by the looks of it.
“Your stop, love.” The ruff sound of the bus driver's voice grumbled as he looked at me.
Nodding, I stood up and steadied myself with a metal pole as the bus wobbled slightly. The bus came to a sudden stop as I reached the front of it.
I couldn’t help but notice the funny looks and the quiet laughter of the other passengers on the bus. One of the badly dressed teenagers slid their foot out as I was about to pass. Luckily, I wasn’t a complete idiot and noticed the battered trainer on the floor in front of me. Grinning mockingly at the boy, I stood over his foot and continued walking.
I heard him laugh behind me as I strutted forward. Pulling my hair back into a high ponytail, I headed towards the door of the bus. I was about to step off the chewing gum filled floor, when I heard the driver speak again.
“You sure this is the right place?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “Don’t see people like you around here, babes.”
Glaring at him, I stepped off the bus and mumbled, “yeah.” That was disgusting. He must have been at least twenty five years older than me, and he called me babes.
I’d been walking for ten minutes when I finally found what I was looking for. When I did find what I was looking for, (Just get rid of that) I was far from impressed. I took the sheet of paper out of my pocket and read it carefully. I narrowed my eyes as I realised that I was apparently in the right place.
In front of me was a tall, extremely badly decorated block of flats. On the road that led up to the building were overfilled bins and black bags that covered an awful lot of the pavement. Maybe I should just turn back...? I thought to myself. I’d told my dad that I’d be back by nine o’ clock. I’d also told him that I was going over my friend, Emma’s, house. I wish I had gone over Emma’s house now. I really didn’t like the feeling of this place.
I chuckled to myself quietly. I was being stupid now. It wasn’t as though there were a group of men holding me at knifepoint or anything. I laughed at my paranoia as I confidently walked forward. I was such a clichéd rich girl, but I was going to change that. I’d done a pretty good job so far, in my opinion. I was in Tower Hamlets, to begin with.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, I entered the block of flats to be greeted by a flight of concrete stairs. Beside me was a rather dingy looking metal lift. When I noticed a man that looked like a much worse groomed version of Santa Clause sleeping in front of the lift, I decided that taking the stairs would be the best option. As I dragged my feet up the concrete flight of stairs, I reminded myself that I was going to have to complain to Oliver about living on such a high floor. (I think you said 'I' about 100 times in that paragraph.)
After painfully walking up seven flights of stairs, I finally reached the floor that I was looking for. Oliver had better offer me something to eat and drink when I reached his flat. Leaving the small block where the stairs and lift were located, I walked out onto where the concrete balconys were. Passing every door, my eyes scanned the numbers beside them. 397, 398, 399, 340, 341... Finally. I stopped in front of the door that belonged to the number 342.
I was dreading the next few seconds. What if I was at the wrong door, on the wrong block of flats, in the wrong city...? Stop being such a little girl. Even if it is the wrong flat, what’s the worst that could happen? I mentally coached myself. I seemed to do so successfully as (I'd get rid of that) I brought up the courage to reach for the doorbell. I felt my stomach turn one last time as I pressed gently on the button. Moments later, I heard a faint buzzing sound.
Tapping the wall in a nervous rhythm, I waited until I saw the round doorknob slowly turn. I was surprised when I saw the person on the other side of the door. Standing in front of me was a small, almost white haired girl of about six years old.
“Hello!” She beamed, shoving some kind of round chocolate into her mouth.
“Hello,” I laughed as she girl grinned at me. “does, uh, Oliver Poynter live here...?”
The little girl turned her head to the side slightly for a few seconds as her big eyes looked me up and down. The strange look was soon replaced by the big smile that was previously plastered across her freckled face.(This sentence could use rewording. It's confusing.)
“You’re very pretty,” she said, eating another chocolate button. “I’ll get Ollie for you now.”
I couldn’t help but let a genuine smile spread across my face. Partly because of the fact that I had the right flat, and partly because of the fact that a little girl had just complimented me.
“Thank you,” I smiled at her as she spun around quickly and skipped into the flat, singing.
Who the girl actually was, I had no idea. I would have thought that she was Oliver’s sister, but Oliver had told me that he was an only child, like me. She was probably a cousin or something.
I’d been standing in the doorway for a while now and there was no sign of anyone coming to the door. How long could it possibly take to walk a few steps? My questions were shortly answered by the loud sound of the little girl's voice.
“Ollie!” She yelled. “There’s a girl at the door for you!”
Her high-pitched voice echoed through, what sounded like, the entire building. The little girl called again until I heard footsteps nearing me.
It wasn’t long until I saw Oliver’s familiar face in front of mine. He was wearing what he’d been wearing earlier, except his shirt was off and it was in his hand. There seemed to be some kind of yellowish stain on it. Oliver must have spilt something over it or something.
I smiled as politely as I could at him as he looked up at me. Oliver, on the other hand, gawked at me as though I had just slapped him across the face. (He either gawked or looked up. Choose one, or find a way to combine them.)
“Victoria...?” He looked slightly concerned now.
Realising that it was in fact me standing in front of him, he suddenly pushed me backwards and stepped out of the flat, closing the door behind him. Well, that was a nice welcome.
“Yes... well done.” I spoke as though I was speaking to a five year old. “I am Victoria. You’re smarter than you look! Well...” I grinned.
Oliver glared at me for a few seconds before glancing behind him, checking that the door was closed. He was fidgeting as he pulled me to the edge of the balcony.
“Are you going to throw me off or something?” I laughed at his paranoia.
“What are you doing here?” He asked me, ignoring my previous comment.
I had come here to kindly return his phone, something that he certainly should have appreciated. This place was hardly lovely to be in, and he was acting rather rudely. I was beginning to remember why he pissed me off so much.
I rolled my eyes at him as I grabbed the crumpled t-shirt from his hands. As I placed it on the balcony edge, he grinned at me weirdly as though he wanted to laugh. Why he wanted to laugh, I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to know either.
“Who was that?” I asked, purposely not answering his question.
“My sister,” he replied, “why are you here?”
He was still holding my arm with his one hand as though I was his pet or something. I’d only been around him for a minute and he was already annoying me. And he called Richard paranoid.
“What happened to, 'I don’t have any brothers or sisters'?” I released myself from his grip.
“Yeah, well. I lied.” He muttered, turning away.
For the first time since I’d known him, Oliver was completely silent. He was simply looking over the edge of the balcony, watching God knows what. It wasn’t as though there was anything interesting below us except for a few battered cars.
During the silence, I took a chance to realise what I was actually doing. This was hardly the safest thing I’d ever done and I knew that it was pretty stupid too. I was impressed with myself though, seriously impressed. I’d managed to make my way to Hackney on my own and I’d actually found the right flat.
As Oliver continued looking anywhere except for my direction, I noticed the rubbish that was piled up against the bottom of the balcony. Very attractive. As my eyes wondered, I spotted a group of people at the other end of the balcony. They all seemed to be teenagers and as far as I could tell, they were all smoking as well. I could hear the faint sound of their voices, and considering they were rather far away, they must have been talking pretty loudly. The only words that I could make out were curse words, which wasn’t very appealing. Great neighbourhood this was.
Turning away from the group of youths, I looked back at Oliver who, unsurprisingly, wasn’t looking back at me. It was so strange, he was acting so... unlike him. Mind you, I supposed that was a good thing. I hadn’t heard a single pointless story spilling out of his mouth and every few seconds, I’d notice him glancing at me.
“I’ve got your phone,” I said, finally making him look at me.
I pulled the faded black phone out of my pocket and held it out in front of him. He muttered what sounded like a thank you before taking the phone from my hand.
He didn’t seem to even think about apologising for leaving it, or asking where he’d left it, or why I’d come all this way to bring it.
“Bye then,” he said, heading towards the door of his flat.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked him, quickly blocking his way. “You are acting really weird.”
He gritted his teeth together before trying to push me out of his way, but I wasn’t moving. I firmly stood my ground and smiled sarcastically at him.
“No, I’m not.” Oliver argued. “Besides, you randomly turn up here at seven o’ clock in the evening and you except me to be perfectly happy about it? Tori, do you realise how weird you look here. You may as well be dressed in a neon green costume with a giant sign saying ‘look at me’ on it. You need to leave before you get mugged or somethin’.”
That was certainly an exaggeration. Although I understood what he meant when I said that I looked a bit out of place here. I couldn’t have possibly looked that weird though. At least I knew how to take a shower, unlike a lot of the people I’d seen here.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. I managed to get myself here alive and I brought your phone back for you. You could at least pretend to appreciate it.”
Oliver sighed heavily before rubbing his forehead. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit... stressed, I guess. Can you please just go now? I’ve really got to get back into the flat.”
I was thankful to see that Oliver was actually looking at me, not the floor or the wall behind me. He was leaning back against the balcony now, appearing slightly more relaxed than before.
Although Oliver was a lot more relaxed, he was still fidgeting and trying to avoid eye contact with me. He constantly kept on glancing at the flat behind me.
“What is on that?” I nodded at the t-shirt that I’d placed on the edge of the balcony. “Did you spill macaroni cheese on it or something?”
Oliver began chuckling as I stared at him, confused. When he saw the baffled look on my face, the quiet chuckling became laughter.
“Tori, that’s puke.” He smiled, letting a few laughs pass out of his mouth.
I suddenly froze in the spot. I’d touched that t-shirt... I’d ran my finger down the yellow stain on it. I’d touched sick.
“What?” I asked, wide eyed.
“My sister was sick on me, Tori.” He was still laughing.
Surprisingly, his laughter was somehow comforting. Normally, that was the one thing that really annoyed me; Oliver laughing. I suppose it was just the fact that it sounded a lot better than an awkward silence.
“Wait, how on earth was she sick on you? She must be six at the least...”
I knew that I didn’t have any younger siblings or anything and I didn’t have any cousins that were younger than me either, but I was pretty sure that six year olds didn’t throw up over you; it would have been impossible for that little girl to have reached Oliver’s chest to be sick on.
Oliver once again turned his eyes away from mine for a few seconds. He then turned back at me and shrugged.
“My other sister.” He said simply.
That wasn’t what he told me a few days ago. I was discussing how I wished I had an older brother or sister so the whole marriage thing didn’t have to happen. He had the nerve to lie to me and tell me that he was an only child, as well.
“Thanks for being completely honest with me,” I muttered sarcastically, “are they the only two, or do you also have a pet lizard, or something?”
“Four brothers and two sisters altogether,” he answered casually.
Was he kidding? It had gone from single child, to one sister, to two sisters, to four brothers and two sisters. Blooming hell, his mother was certainly a busy woman.
I simply gawked at Oliver, my mouth open. Was there anything else he hadn’t told me? Right now, I couldn’t do anything but stare.
“Close your mouth, it ain’t attractive.” Oliver winked, standing straight.
Immediately shutting my mouth, I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth, tapping my foot in annoyance against the hard floor below me.
“Do you practice lying, or does it come naturally to you?” I hissed at him.
“Chill out, Tori. Maybe I don’t want you knowing everything about my life. I do have my rights, believe it or not. Fair enough, I maybe shouldn’t have lied to you, but it’s not as if it’s ende-”
Oliver was cut short by the sound of shouting coming from the other end of the balcony. I heard a rough, male voice shout towards Oliver and I.
“Oi! Poynter!” The voice shouted loudly. “Oi!”
Both Oliver and I spun around to face where the call had come from. As we did so, I saw the group of teenagers I’d noticed earlier. Except, this time, they weren’t talking amongst themselves and smoking what was most likely to be cannabis. They were walking towards us, the one at the front still shouting.
“Shit!” Oliver cursed in an aggressive whisper. “Tori, you’ve really really gotta leave.”

Okay! That sure was fun. My only real problem with this is that you say the word 'I' about 500 times in each paragraph. Please, cut down on the 'I's. After that, this will be really good.

Cheers!

-Tori

Hey,

So I have to say this was my favorite chapter. It was just amazing. The descriptions were good, the dialogue was believable, I really liked this. I didn't really notice anything wrong.

~Jas

P.S. Niiiiice cliffhanger there.

P.S.S You have to post the next chapter. Like now.

Hey Rabid-cat owner,

I agree with Dreamy about a lot of things...like, for example, the continuous use of I's, and the fact that this was one of the best chapters of this novel that I have read. Probably my favorite. Alright, so on with the review...

I like the way you introduced Vicki -too lazy to type out full name >.>- to Ollie's neighborhood, you captured the difference in both their worlds perfectly, and the pervy bus driver bit fun to read. I sense a bit of character development here within Vicki, as the Vicki in chapter one would rather have walked through a raging volcano instead of getting a bus to the East End. You also really surprised me here, especially with Ollie's life, and the siblings suddenly appearing. Brilliant cliffhanger, although I do have a mild rebuke being that: You are still using word tags...they hinder the flow of the story and take the readers attention from what is going on. Your characters voice is strong enough without them.

Yo, Skins. Sup? Ah, the chat language.

So here I am again, on request, because nowadays I don't do random things. Anyways, onto a review, and I hope that I am of some serious help. I wasn't going to go line by line, but as others hadn't done so, I decided to go on for that.

A pair of bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at me through the small mirror at the front of the bus.

The word gave me goosebumps, and I knew that I had to read on the next.

I’d found out Oliver’s home address on my father’s computer and decided to return his phone to him.

Just a stupid advice from me, I think knowing that how stinking rich(just for appearance) Tori's dad is I think he would own a laptop or a Blackberry. This might be me, but I think this would seem real if you're using something more trendy and probable to what a rich man can afford. Ooh, my silly advice.

The greens turned into browns, the reds turned into faded oranges, and the chic blacks turned into dull greys.

This was very beautiful, Skins. I liked the way you compared East End with the other hot places of London.

I’d also told him that I was going over my friend, Emma’s, house.

YOu actually don't need the blue comma(second one).

Oliver had better offer me something to eat and drink when I reached his flat.

Well, she yet has to reach so why do you write 'reached'? I think it should be reach only as this is what she is thinking in the same form.

It had gone from single child, to one sister, to two sisters, to four brothers and two sisters. Blooming hell, his mother was certainly a busy woman.

LOL.

Ah, that's what seemed like your writing, Skins. I actually loved reading it, and then there was a point when this became more of I am reading this because I like it types than the I have to review it so I am reading this types. Mind you, I always have the first option when it comes to your stories.

The writing was much better than the previous chapter, and also it had a great cliffhanger to it. The way you described somethings was mindblowing and I just loved some scenes. The way you made the neighbourhood was very great, and I really liked the setting you created for us. The comparison you had of this neighbourhood, and the way she felt was quite clearly expressed in here, which I think was the essence of this chapter.Coming on to the dialog, as Jas said I very much liked it. They were youthful and cool.

Honestly to say, earlier I was like-this is the usual kind of romance, but after this chapter, and when once you said that this has something different to it, I can't wait to see what it is. I am really interested to know why this Ollie is so upset on Tori's arrival, and why he hasn't been his I-am-not-going-to-shut up- types. And I really think that his mother has worked so hard to have so many children. That must have been hard, right?

Now quite clearly, you are a very very (goes on) talented writer, and this site has provided you with the necessary feedback on how to blossom into an extraordinary writer. And as they say, write and write to improve in it.

So, here I go, and I am leaving you with a short weird kind of review.

P.S. I am so glad that you're posting again after that hiatus from writing you took months back.

~Shubhi

I live! And...I am here as promised. Your sexy bread really got me motivated.
Red is the stuff that I'm all picky-like about.
Bold is my comments.
Purple is the stuff I liked. Because most people use green, and purple is just cooler.

Skins wrote:
A pair of bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at me through the small mirror at the front of the bus. The man who owned those eyes grunted something inaudible. Sniffing, he lifted his sleeve up to his nose and wiped it harshly. He then looked down at where he’d wiped his nose and pulled an extremely unattractive face. I gotta say, this man is pretty cool.
I was beginning to regret getting onto this bus. I’d found out Oliver’s home address on my father’s computer and decided to return his phone to him. Without it, there was no way he’d end up turning up for work tomorrow. Besides, throughout the past few days, I'd become very intrigued in as of where someone like Oliver lived. That sounded a little....awkwardish to me. My original plan was to take one of my chauffeurs and a car, but then I realised that it probably wasn’t a good idea. The last time I’d taken a car, my father had been angry with me for wasting it on ‘something stupid’. He’d In my mind (maybe it's just in mine, but who knows?) this would sound better if it was joined by an 'and' or something.probably class this as something stupid, knowing him.
The bus driver looked up at me strangely once again. I swore that if he didn’t stop staring at me, I’d walk the rest of the way. The bus itself didn’t even seem stable; it made this very bizarre crunching sound every time the wheels turned. Staring out of the windows, a flash of different colours rushed past my eyes.
The further we drove, the blander those colours became. The greens turned into browns, the reds turned into faded oranges, and the chic blacks turned into dull greys. I knew that the East End wasn’t a beautiful place, but I thought it would have more colour in it than this. As the immaculate buildings were replaced by terraced houses with rubbish-filled gardens, I began fidgeting anxiously in my seat. Maybe coming here was a bad idea? I thought, biting my lip.
By the time we were well into Tower Hamlets, the area where Oliver lived according to the piece of paper in my pocket- I really wasn’t sure about my decision to return Oliver’s phone. It wasn’t the cleanest of all places, by the looks of it.
“Your stop, love.” The ruff sound of the bus driver's voice grumbled as he looked at me.
Nodding, I stood up and steadied myself with a metal pole as the bus wobbled slightly. The bus came to a sudden stop as I reached the front of it.
I couldn’t help but notice the funny looks and the quiet laughter of the other passengers on the bus. One of the badly dressed teenagers slid their foot out as I was about to pass. Luckily, I wasn't a complete idiot and noticed the battered trainer on the floor in front of me. Grinning mockingly at the boy, I stood over his foot and continued walking.
He laughed behind me as I strutted forward. Pulling my hair back into a high ponytail, I headed towards the door of the bus. Before stepping off the chewing gum filled floor, the driver's voice stopped me.
“You sure this is the right place?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “Don’t see people like you around here, babes.”
Glaring at him, I stepped off the bus and mumbled, “Yeah.” That was disgusting. He must have been at least twenty five years older than me and he called me babes. Haha...he's cool. Not really, but he amuses me.
I’d been walking for ten minutes when I finally found what I was looking for. It was far from beautiful. I took the sheet of paper out of my pocket and read it carefully. My eyes narrowed as I realised that this was apparently the right place.
In front of me was a tall, extremely badly decorated block of flats. On the road that led up to the building were overfilled bins and black bags that covered an awful lot of the pavement. Maybe I should just turn back...? I thought to myself. I’d told my dad that I’d be back by nine o’ clock. I’d also told him that I was going over my friend, Emma’s, house. I wish I had gone over Emma’s house now because the feeling of this place was making me anxious.
I chuckled to myself quietly as I noticed my stupidity. It wasn’t as though there were a group of men holding me at knifepoint or anything. I laughed at my paranoia as I confidently walked forward. I was such a clichéd rich girl, but that would hopefully soon change. I’d done a pretty good job so far, in my opinion. I was in Tower Hamlets, to begin with.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, I entered the block of flats to be greeted by a flight of concrete stairs. Beside me was a rather dingy looking metal lift. When my attention was drawn to a man that looked like a much worse groomed version of Santa Clause sleeping in front of the lift, I decided that taking the stairs would be the best option Hahaha...I loved that. Made me laugh.. Dragging my feet up the concrete flight of stairs, I reminded myself that I was going to have to complain to Oliver about living on such a high floor.
After painfully walking up seven flights of stairs, I finally reached the floor that I was looking for. Oliver had better offer me something to eat and drink when I reached his flat. Leaving the small block where the stairs and lift were located, I wondered out onto where the concrete balconys were. Passing every door, my eyes scanned the numbers beside them. 397, 398, 399, 340, 341... Finally. My feet stopped in front of the door that belonged to the number 342.
I was dreading the next few seconds. What if I was at the wrong door, on the wrong block of flats, in the wrong city...? Stop being such a little girl. Even if it is the wrong flat, what’s the worst that could happen? I mentally coached myself. Eventually bringing up the courage, my hand reached for the doorbell. I felt my stomach turn one last time as I pressed gently on the button. Moments later, a faint buzzing sound vibrated into my ears from the other side of the door.
Tapping the wall in a nervous rhythm, I waited until I saw the round doorknob slowly turn. There was a surprised expression on my face when I saw the person on the other side of the door. Standing in front of me was a small, almost white haired girl of about six years old.
“Hello!” She beamed, shoving some kind of round chocolate into her mouth.
“Hello,” I laughed as she girl grinned at me. “does, uh, Oliver Poynter live here...?”
The little girl turned her head to the side slightly for a few seconds as her big eyes looked me up and down. It was soon replaced by the big smile that was previously plastered across her freckled face.
“You’re very pretty,” she said, eating another chocolate button. “I’ll get Ollie for you now.”
I couldn’t help but let a genuine smile spread across my face. Partly because of the fact that I had the right flat, and partly because of the fact that a little girl had just complimented me.
“Thank you,” I smiled at her as she spun around quickly and skipped into the flat, singing.
Who the girl actually was, I had no idea. I would have thought that she was Oliver’s sister, but Oliver had told me that he was an only child, like me. She was probably a cousin or something.
I’d been standing in the doorway for a while now and there was no sign of anyone coming to the door. How long could it possibly take to walk a few steps? My questions were shortly answered by the loud sound of the little girl's voice.
“Ollie!” She yelled. “There’s a girl at the door for you!”
Her high-pitched voice echoed through, what sounded like, the entire building. The little girl called again until I heard footsteps nearing me. I also really liked this. It was cute AND it reminded me of my little sisters. xD
It wasn’t long until I saw Oliver’s familiar face in front of mine. He was wearing what he’d been wearing earlier, except his shirt was off and it was in his hand. There seemed to be some kind of yellowish stain on it. Oliver must have spilt something over it or something. Too many somethings! D8 Okay, so you're not as bad as I am with my somethings...but still. xD
I smiled as politely as I could at him. Oliver, on the other hand, gawked at me as though I had just slapped him across the face.
“Victoria...?” He looked slightly concerned now.
Realising that it was in fact me standing in front of him, he suddenly pushed me backwards and stepped out of the flat, closing the door behind him. Well, that was a nice welcome.
“Yes... well done.” I spoke as though I was speaking to a five year old. “I am Victoria. You’re smarter than you look! Well...” I grinned.
Oliver glared at me for a few seconds before glancing behind him, checking that the door was closed. He was fidgeting as he pulled me to the edge of the balcony.
“Are you going to throw me off or something?” I laughed at his paranoia.
“What are you doing here?” He asked me, ignoring my previous comment.
I had come here to kindly return his phone, something that he certainly should have appreciated. This place was hardly lovely to be in, and he was acting rather rudely. I was beginning to remember why he pissed me off so much.
I rolled my eyes at him as I grabbed the crumpled t-shirt from his hands. Placing it on the balcony edge, he grinned at me weirdly as though he wanted to laugh. Why he wanted to laugh, I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to know either.
“Who was that?” I asked, purposely not answering his question.
“My sister,” he replied, “why are you here?”
He was still holding my arm with his one hand as though I was his pet or something. I’d only been around him for a minute and he was already annoying me. And he called Richard paranoid.
“What happened to, 'I don’t have any brothers or sisters'?” I released myself from his grip.
“Yeah, well. I lied," he muttered, turning away.
For the first time since I’d known him, Oliver was completely silent. He was simply looking over the edge of the balcony, watching God knows what. It wasn’t as though there was anything interesting below us except for a few battered cars.
During the silence, I took a chance to realise what I was actually doing. This was hardly the safest thing I’d ever done and I knew that it was pretty stupid too. I was impressed with myself though, seriously impressed. I’d managed to make my way to Hackney on my own and I’d actually found the right flat.
As Oliver continued looking anywhere except for my direction, I noticed the rubbish that was piled up against the bottom of the balcony. Very attractive. As my eyes wondered, they spotted a group of people at the other end of the balcony. They all seemed to be teenagers and as far as I could tell, they were all smoking. I could hear the faint sound of their voices, and considering they were rather far away, they must have been talking pretty loudly. The only words that could have possibly been made out were curse words, which wasn’t very appealing. Great neighbourhood this was.
Turning away from the group of youths, I looked back at Oliver who, unsurprisingly, wasn’t looking back at me. It was so strange, he was acting so... unlike him. Mind you, I supposed that was a good thing. Not a single pointless story had started spilling out of his mouth and every few seconds, I’d notice him glancing at me.
“I’ve got your phone,” I said, finally making him look at me.
I pulled the faded black phone out of my pocket and held it out in front of him. He muttered what sounded like a thank you before taking the phone from my hand.
He didn’t seem to even think about apologising for leaving it, or asking where he’d left it, or why I’d come all this way to bring it.
“Bye then,” he said, heading towards the door of his flat.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked him, quickly blocking his way. “You are acting really weird.”
He gritted his teeth together before trying to push me out of his way, but I wasn’t moving. I firmly stood my ground and smiled sarcastically at him.
“No, I’m not.” Oliver argued. “Besides, you randomly turn up here at seven o’ clock in the evening and you except me to be perfectly happy about it? Tori, do you realise how weird you look here. You may as well be dressed in a neon green costume with a giant sign saying ‘look at me’ on it. You need to leave before you get mugged or somethin’.” Beautiful!
That was certainly an exaggeration. Although I understood what he meant when he said that I looked a bit out of place here. I couldn’t have possibly looked that weird though. At least I knew how to take a shower, unlike a lot of the people I’d seen here.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. I managed to get myself here alive and I brought your phone back for you. You could at least pretend to appreciate it.”
Oliver sighed heavily before rubbing his forehead. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit... stressed, I guess. Can you please just go now? I’ve really got to get back into the flat.”
I was thankful to see that Oliver was actually looking at me, not the floor or the wall behind me. He was leaning back against the balcony now, appearing slightly more relaxed than before.
Although Oliver was a lot more relaxed, he was still fidgeting and trying to avoid eye contact with me. He constantly kept on glancing at the flat behind me.
“What is on that?” I nodded at the t-shirt that I’d placed on the edge of the balcony. “Did you spill macaroni cheese on it or something?”
Oliver began chuckling as I stared at him, confused. When he saw the baffled look on my face, the quiet chuckling became laughter.
“Tori, that’s puke.” He smiled, letting a few laughs pass out of his mouth.
I suddenly froze in the spot. I’d touched that t-shirt... I’d ran my finger down the yellow stain on it. I’d touched sick.
“What?” I asked, wide eyed.
“My sister was sick on me, Tori.” He was still laughing.
Surprisingly, his laughter was somehow comforting. Normally, that was the one thing that really annoyed me; Oliver laughing. It must have just been the fact that it sounded a lot better than an awkward silence.
“Wait, how on earth was she sick on you? She must be six at the least...”
I knew that I didn’t have any younger siblings or anything and I didn’t have any cousins that were younger than me either, but I was pretty sure that six year olds didn’t throw up over you; it would have been impossible for that little girl to have reached Oliver’s chest to be sick on. This is all good...except I think that there could be a period or two in there somewhere. xD
Oliver once again turned his eyes away from mine for a few seconds. He then turned back at me and shrugged.
“My other sister.” He said simply.
That wasn’t what he told me a few days ago. I was discussing how I wished I had an older brother or sister so the whole marriage thing didn’t have to happen. He had the nerve to lie to me and tell me that he was an only child, as well.
“Thanks for being completely honest with me,” I muttered sarcastically, “are they the only two, or do you also have a pet lizard, or something?”
“Four brothers and two sisters altogether,” he answered casually.
Was he kidding? It had gone from single child, to one sister, to two sisters, to four brothers and two sisters. Blooming hell, his mother was certainly a busy woman.
Gaping at Oliver, my mouth dropped open. Was there anything else he hadn’t told me? Right now, I couldn’t do anything but stare.
“Close your mouth, it ain’t attractive.” Oliver winked, standing straight.
Immediately shutting my mouth, I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth, tapping my foot in annoyance against the hard floor below me.
“Do you practice lying, or does it come naturally to you?” I hissed at him.
“Chill out, Tori. Maybe I don’t want you knowing everything about my life. I do have my rights, believe it or not. Fair enough, I maybe shouldn’t have lied to you, but it’s not as if it’s ende-”
Oliver was cut short by the sound of shouting coming from the other end of the balcony. I heard a rough, male voice shout towards Oliver and me.
“Oi! Poynter!” The voice shouted loudly. “Oi!”
Both Oliver and I spun around to face where the call had come from. As we did so, I saw the group of teenagers I’d noticed earlier. Except, this time, they weren’t talking amongst themselves and smoking what was most likely to be cannabis. They were walking towards us, the one at the front still shouting.
“Shit!” Oliver cursed in an aggressive whisper. “Tori, you’ve seriously gotta leave.”

Alright, so...I haven't actually gone back and read the other chapters yet, so I'm pretty clueless as to what's going on. xD
Despite what you said about this being a weak chapter, it wasn't too bad. There are probably a few things you could fix up, but heck, you did better than me!

One thing I have to say is that I really, really like the dialogue in this. It sounds realistic, which can be hard to find sometimes. I usually find myself judging novels on their dialogue, and I've found a lot of it to be either too formal or it sounds like all of the characters are bums. But this...yeah, I liked this.

*cough*

Anyways, I'm looking forwards to the next chapter...and I should probably go read the other ones eventually...hehe.

I hope that this helped.

Peace out foo'!

You know, if my friends knew that I was reading a romance novel and actually enjoying myself, they'd never let me live it down. But how can I not enjoy myself, when there's so much awesome stuff happening? I agree with the others that this is one of the best chapters yet (I still haven't read all of the earlier ones, so there's perhaps a better one in the midst of those.)

Throughout this, I had two clear pictures in my head. One was of how Tori was seeing and experiencing things. The other was of what things actually were. The former you supplied so perfectly through the details you chose, and the diction and phrases, etc. The latter was a me, I guess, but you left room for the reader to fill in what was really happening. The disparity would almost be funny, if the situation weren't so serious.

I really hope that Tori goes home having learned something very, very important, and serious, and has a good thinking about the world and her place in it. She was almost frustrating in this chapter. I was beginning to get really mad at her for giving Oliver such a hard time, for pressing him for details of his life that he obviously didn't want to share. Right when he tells her it's puke, and she's just not getting it... I really wanted to reach through my computer screen and strangle her! So much!

Which is a success for you as the writer here. Means the characters are real to me, real enough to really care about them. I want to protect poor Oliver, and even though I also want to bang her on the head, I don't want Victoria to get (too) hurt either. She could use with some roughing up, just to shake away the self-centeredness, but I still don't want her to get too hurt.

So, awesome job. I just hope she has that shake-up experience soon.

Now, onto other stuff...

One, I noticed this while skimming back through: you're still tacking adverbs onto your dialogue tags, and they're really dragging down the pace, especially toward the end there. Most of them are redundant. Shouts are, by definition, loud, and your dialogue's good enough that you don't have to tell us how things are being said. So, go clip those things out!

Two, this may be a result of me being geographically lost as well as not having read all of the chapters, but weren't they on vacation in the last chapter? Didn't she find his phone in the hotel room? I imagine I'm wrong, because I sometimes start skip sentences, even entire paragraphs, while reading without even noticing that I skipped--I think it's a computer screen thing--but it might be something to clarify in the last chapter.

Three,

Spoiler

is it bad that I kinda wanted to know what Oliver looked liked with his shirt off? Not that I'm expecting him to have abs of steel or anything, but still. Even a romance-disliking person like moi can be curious.

Four, watch out for POV slips:

There was a surprised expression on my face.

Is she so vain that she constantly carried around a mirror, just a few feet in front of us, so she can report exactly how her face looks at any given time? Didn't think so. Be on the look out for things like that. First person means we only get what Tori can see, hear, taste, feel, smell--and what she already knows.

Five and finally, I think my main suggestion for this would be to make this longer. Or, don't shy from making what comes next lengthy. The ending of this chapter was beginning to feel rushed to me. It was the first time throughout where I became aware that you were writing instead of Tori (besides the aforementioned slip-ups here and there), mainly because... Well, I don't know how to describe it.

It's as if you knew (which you obviously did) that Big, Tense, Thrilling, Actiony Event was on its way, which it obviously is... The problem's that Tori's in obliviousland. So, I'd love to see that reflected even more. Also, despite his insistence that he really needs to get back inside, Oliver doesn't seem to be in that much of a hurry to get back inside--as if he's just stalling so he can be out there when the teens come by. Does that make any sense? There's two much anticipation on both Tori and Oliver's parts, and so I want more obviousness from Tori, and more anxiousness to get back inside from Oliver, and perhaps a slice of chocolate cake and some strawberries? That'd be great, thanks.

I don't like to do this sort of thing, but just to show you what I mean a little:

“Chill out, Tori. Maybe I don’t want you knowing everything about my life. I do have my rights, believe it or not. Fair enough, I maybe shouldn’t have lied to you, but it’s not as if it’s ende-”

Oliver was cut short by the sound of shouting coming from the other end of the balcony. I heard a rough, male voice shout towards Oliver and me.You can just have the dialogue the guy shouts interrupt Oliver. The reader'll follow without any problem at all, and it'll be much more dramatic, unexpected, suspenseful, etc.

“Oi! Poynter!” a voice shouted loudly from the other end of the balcony. “Oi!”

Both Oliver and I spun aroundto face where the call had come from that's the logical place to spin. As we did so, I saw The group of teenagers I’d noticed earlier. Except, this time, they weren’t talking amongst themselves and smoking what was most likely to be cannabis. They were walking towards us, the one at the front still shouting. You don't have to say that she 'saw' or 'heard' anything because if she's writing it, she obviously saw it or heard it or whatever. So, you get to use more interesting verbs instead, and rely on the reader's ability.

“Shit!” Oliver cursed in an aggressive whisper. “Tori, you’ve seriously gotta leave.” You don't need the tag there. It's obviously Oliver speaking, and it's much more dramatic and such without it.

And... that's it! I kinda can't believe I'm looking forward to reading the eighth chapter of a... romance. You might make a believer out of me yet.

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns!

Rach

Hiya, Jai here, one of the Four Musketeers.

First, why/when did Oliver leave his phone at Victoria's place?

“Your stop, love.” The ruff sound of the bus driver's voice grumbled as he looked at me.

Um. Have you ever been on a bus before? Here in Australia if you don't know where you are and when to get off, the bus driver will not remind you. He can't remember the stops of every single person on the bus. It is also highly unlikely that the bus stop will be anywhere near Oliver's house unless he lives on a main road. So I hope Victoria brought her iPhone and can access GoogleMaps.

“You sure this is the right place?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “Don’t see people like you around here, babes.”

First he is endearing/respectful with "love", and then he immediately turns to trash with "babes"? Inconsistent.

I mentally coached myself. Eventually bringing up the courage, my hand reached for the doorbell. I felt my stomach turn one last time as I pressed gently on the button. Moments later, a faint buzzing sound vibrated into my ears from the other side of the door.

Like others I have noticed that you seem to writing about things happening as if you weren't in your own body. I think your story would fit better if you changed from first person to third. Instead of, "I felt my stomach turn one last time", it would be, "Victoria felt her stomach turn one last time". I see this fixing every single problem RachaelElg had picked up, and suddenly the story also becomes more sophisticated. Not many novels can pull off the first person point of view very well, and third person is always easier to write for.

I rolled my eyes at him as I grabbed the crumpled t-shirt from his hands. Placing it on the balcony edge, he grinned at me weirdly as though he wanted to laugh. Why he wanted to laugh, I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to know either.

That made no sense.

This wasn't a bad chapter at all. The pace of the story is certainly picking up, and Victoria is starting to act like a normal teenager. They are both acting younger than their age, but that could be fixed.

Onwards to chapter eight.

- Jai.

Yeah, you know the general stuff I have to say here, right? Refer to every other single review I've written and you'll get the gist of it.

I don't have much nit-picks, besides you're probably as sick of reading them as I am of writing them.


Overall:
YAY! Pace is picking up. Victoria is still a snob, an injured snob, but a snob nonetheless. Oliver is... pure awesome. Honestly. Anyway, this was by far the most interesting chapter. Seemingly is right about how you should think about changing this from first-person to third person. It would suit your writing a lot better. That or include more personal information that make the story your character's own.(I am aware this review was pitiful. )

Have A Nice Day,
Azrael.

Hey Skins! Back for another review, mwahaha.
Alrighty...

She was smirking as she constantly chewed on the piece of gum that was in her mouth.

I would loose the word constantly, here.

He was almost like a nastier, cockier, more aggressive version of Oliver.

What? I can't think of one thing that connects both Oliver and this guy besides that they live in the same neighborhood.

“There’s more chance of me screwin’ you than your sister, Kenzie. She looks like a dog.” Oliver grinned. “Smells like one too. Tell her to try Sure, it works a charm.”

D: Oliver! XD Nice one.

Once again, the boy's hand creeped down for the zipper on his stained jeans. I stood limply against the wall as tears splashed out of my eyes. My hair was blowing all over my red face. The faint smell of urine circled my nostrils. I felt the boy's breath on my ear. I’d given up on fighting back now; he was too strong for me. I simply shut my eyes. The boy’s hand firmly stroked my leg. His warm breath ran down my neck.

Very nice description. I felt myself shiver with your words, and I was like, "Ollie! Get up!"

Wiping my eyes, I buried my head into Oliver’s chest. He winced in pain slightly as I felt my body shaking violently against his. Oliver wrapped his arms around me as an overwhelming feeling took over me.

When she puts her head on her chest, she can't see him wince in pain.

Overall
However, with all that being said, I think this is the possibly the best chapter you've written. It's was edgy, gripping, and the descriptions and the scene was great. In the short amount of time you made Tori go from being totally pissed and annoyed with Oliver to feeling safe around him and I applaud you for that, because not only was it believable but it was realistic too and I didn't really have to say, hey, that wouldn't happen in normal life. Understandably, she went out to a bad part of the neighborhood where there are probably bad people around there and it looked the punks that tried to rape her were real too. I mean, I know what bad neighborhoods are like, I've been to one before and it's not pretty and things like this can happen because I've met people who've told me their stories beforehand and I mean, it's not you can lie about it right? Anyways, awesomely eventful chapter.
The only thing that I noticed was how in the world Oliver got to her. I mean, wasn't he getting beat up by the other guys? I don't understand how he made it there so fast without being pulled back by the crazy mob and all. Anyways, other than that, I thought this was pretty cool and it's one of my favorite chapters so far. I actually can't wait to see what happens next and how the feelings between Ollie and Tori bloom. Hopefully, I mean...they must fall in love! Or else...I'll have to pick up a bat and hit the guy who has to marry Tori, ugh. XD
Well, not much else to say...Since it's review Sunday I might as well get on with the next part!
See you in few

~Pink

Skins! Great chapter!

I agree with Rach about having two disctintive impressions of this. Tori's point of view, and what the reality was. Nicely done. The chapter itself was great, although I really hope we learn why this guy was so bad and why on earth Ollie would antagonise him, knowing what a jerk he could be.

The thing that bothered me ? Vic was going into a strange neighbourhood, taking the bus for the first time. SHe was unsure she had the right adress, unsure of where she was going but she didn't bring her PHONE? No way in hell. I never leave without it, even knowing where I'm going, and this rich chick won't bring her own? Maybe she lost it in the fight, maybe the wacko rapist stole it from her but no way did she leave it home.

Also, a few chapters ago, Daddy Dear didn't remember hiring Ollie but she was able to find his adress in Daddy's pc? Hmmm, suspicious, I think.

Ah yes! And I believe it was Jai who nitpicked the busdriver part? Here in Canada, if you tell the bus driver that you aren't sure where you're headed, he'll let you know when to get off. I automatically assumed this is what happened. No?

Great chapter, things are really picking up.
On to the next!
Tanya