Holding

Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Disney owns Austin and Ally. This is all fiction.

Warning: This gets semi-graphic in the sexual tense, but not how you might be thinking.

A/N: This starts off with Ally's fascination for Elliot. It is over by the end of this chapter, however, for obvious reasons. You'll see the real stuff next. ReAd It PlEaSe.

We started off as friends, much to my displeasure. He was too caught up in a girl-likes-boy-who-likes-her-and-her-friend situation. By the time he stole my phone and read my text messages to Trish, therefore figuring out another girl liked him, he was too caught up in his first to girls to even think about me. I had such high imaginations of him. In my sixteen-year-old eyes, he was mysterious, suave, and troubled. I think that's what really got me. He was troubled. He could come to school brooding some days or high the next. Both cases worried me sick.

He needed help. He wasn't happy. He was depressed and needed fixed. He wasn't whole. He wasn't being the real him, who I knew would be more selfless and caring of a girl's heart than the boy who played off my crush on him as a fling sort of thing.

I was wrong. I know that now. I just wish that somebody would have slapped me in the face and screamed at me, screamed that I was horribly, utterly wrong.

The other two girls got it before me. When they first dumped him, I had thought, "I wouldn't want to be a second choice either." That was why I started to get over him. And I eventually did, only to be pulled back in a worse way that ruined a healthy, wonderful relationship. When the second girl dumped him, I had thought, "These two are so dumb. You can't exactly blame him for all his mistakes: he has depression."

I know I sounded like an ignorant brat. It was who I was for some time in my life. Then came the day he kissed me under the bright lights of the lacrosse field after a glorious win. That was about a year after he had his two-girl scandal. One thing I remember now was that, looking back, something was always revolving around him – some form of gossip.

'He ate out this girl and she's being clingy.'

'He got a blowjob and she threw up because he was too long – on his dick!'

'I heard he made out with five girls at that party.'

And, don't forget the obvious one: 'Elliot's turned into such a player.'

But I knew there were two sides to every story. I had laughed each girl off, almost waving them goodbye as I stayed in his good graces. But his line of girls slowed down when he finished a good section through of the freshmen and his reputation turned their attention elsewhere. There was a lull in his gossip train.

So he created a moment with me. I had hopelessly fallen in and out of crushing on Elliot. It happened that at the night on the football field, I had feelings for him. When he kissed me, those feeling skyrocketed. It was incredibly romantic!

Until he groped my boobs. Now, I didn't feel it. No, I was so caught up with the victory and the kiss and his tongue that I barely registered his hand under my tank top. When I did, I shoved him off, but people saw. They looked at us when he apologized after the game, promising to make it up to me.

Despite the one good outcome of my past, I still wish I never had let him apologize. Anyone who touches a girl in surprise is one thing, but publicly is another issue. My father was at the game. Needless to say, Elliot never came over to my house.

As I was saying, we stayed friends for a while after that because I was furious at him. To his credit, he was persistent. Elliot never gave up. Ha! No, he never would, not for this, not for weed, and especially not for lust. So I gave him another shot.

"Saturday," I had said. It would be simple, hard to screw up. "I'll come over and watch a movie."

Take to note that I had only been in a handful of relationships, all of which I never kissed him until weeks into it. Secondly, I had only been kissed a handful of times. I didn't do social media; I'd rather write songs than see the food you just ate and are now digesting, which you'll eventually poop out. I wasn't familiar with any of the new trends and phrases going on. I imagined this movie date as just that: a date where we watched a movie.

"Dad, my shift is over for today. Can I go out?" I asked him on the succulent Saturday. I still wish to this day he would have asked me where I was going or when I'd be home or who I was hanging out with. I blame it on the whole lacrosse field incident. Since then, he kept his nose out of my personal life, after contacting my mom and triple checking that she had 'the talk' with me.

"Sure, honey, as long as you remember to open my gift for you, first." he said, continuing on his duty of cleaning the display window. He had a chipper smile on his lips, which made me feel even guiltier. I wasn't lying, but hiding the truth that I knew he'd disagree with made me feel just as bad. But I knew he wouldn't understand Elliot. He had problems. I had helped him work those problems out. Even if he didn't need me now, he may need me later. I also didn't want to upset his fragile emotions by standing him up.

His gift was the same as I always got every six months: a new can of pepper spray. I loved my dad, I truly did, but I sometimes had to wonder how the store wasn't robbed from under his nose before I came along. I wasn't going to use a whole can of pepper spray in six months! Guys rarely asked me out as it was, but to actually lust after me so much that they would try to force their hand? It wouldn't happen to Ally Dawson, clumsiest, geekiest, and least-sexy girl in Miami.

Again, I looked back. To this day, I imagine a wistfully hopeful look crossing my face, screaming and, "Don't let what happens next happen, Dad!" What I was about to do was so wrong. It didn't even feel right, not one moment of that day felt right. In reality, however, I looked back to make sure he was letting me off without question.

"Oh, Ally! I won't make it home tonight. I am going to an instrument auction at a hotel. We get free mud baths in the morning if we get a room!" He looked so happy with such a little thing. Blushing, I remembered that tonight I might go a bit further than a five second kiss, maybe even seeing him shirtless. I felt more than dirty and immaturely gross when my dad was here getting excited about something as soothing and mature as a mud bath.

"I'll stay at Trish's," I said and exited the store. My feet found their way to my car faster than I ever had before. After texting Trish that I'd see her later, I headed to Elliot's house.

His house was spacious. It was on the beach, which made me shudder. The beach was never fun to me. Maybe this date would help. I really had my hopes up. Elliot was a beautiful boy. He had elfish features that made my heart flutter and his hair was sculpted perfectly. I still couldn't believe after a full year of being in the friend zone, I was getting out and into the girlfriend zone. It was uncommon for a boy to get out, but if the girl got out, it was never under the best of terms. But I'd be the exception.

It was a little out of my way to get to his house. Most of the people from my school lived closer to me, but to get to his house I had to travel a good ways down the highway. I shook my head and knocked on the door.

"Hey," I began to say.

"Nice little bow. You look like a five-year-old," Elliot flicked at my headband. I frowned and discretely shrugged it off as we headed into his house. "So my parents are out of town. I have a movie playing downstairs if you want to head down."

"You started without me?" I asked, feigning to be hurt. I battered my eyes at him and he threw me a dazzling smile.

"It's not like we'll be watching too much of it," he chuckled as he headed into the kitchen. I waved that comment off. Elliot, in my mind, always knew more about what was going on, what we were talking about. I struggled to keep up most of the time.

I was sitting on the couch when he jumped down and pressed play. He dimmed the lights and I settled in, reaching for some popcorn from the bowl he brought down. "Nope, mine," he said, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek. I grinned and ruffled his hair, to which he totally freaked out about.

Things were good for a little while. I was totally lost in the movie – a classic horror one, gag me – but I pieced it together enough. Most horror movies were easy to decipher, and I didn't need all the details because…because was that a hand? Yes, definitely, a hand was moving up my thigh. And fast.

"Elliot," I blushed, shoving his hand down. But he tried again quickly. I rolled my eyes and shoved his hand away. When he tried again, I said, "Elliot, stop."

"I'm just playing, relax Ally," Elliot said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I didn't snuggle in closer. That comment really unnerved me, even with my cloud of boy in my head. He was playing, like my body was something he could play with, because it didn't matter if he had stopped or not.

It took a while, but eventually I settled in. This was Elliot. I was sure he was just nervous and speaking before he spoke. Still, the question was why was this his instinct thought?

When we started kissing, I understood what his comment meant earlier. He was a decent kisser, but damn, did that boy own a toothbrush? It smelled of a mixture of hot dog and onions. Maybe he had a chili cheese dog. Whatever the case was, it was now on my tongue.

Still, we continued kissing. I once made out with my boyfriend in my freshman year so long it felt like fifteen minutes. He didn't make a move further because he really didn't know what he was doing, but that was beside the point. I really enjoyed kissing. I was young and, if I had to admit it, nervous to go much further.

I didn't really have the choice with Elliot. First, he kissed down my neck. This was new, but exciting. Then he kissed across my chest. I started getting nervous then, but I knew if I stopped him, we'd be finished. So I let him kiss along my chest, his lips even nearing my bra.

But that was where my consent ended.

His hands, which had previously been molesting my butt, moved to my front. He didn't give me time before he plunged into my panties and shoved two fingers inside me. I gasped in utter shock.

It took me more than a second to realize what he just did. It didn't feel good. It hurt, really. He was on top of me at that moment, but because he was a stick, I was able to shove him upward to get his attention. "El-Elliot, that hurts. Stop," I stuttered, still unsure how this even happened. I didn't give any sign of going much further. He was my friend for a year! He knew I hadn't hit past second yet, and I had barely reached there.

His hand didn't move. He only smirked and bent his head down to kiss me. "Elliot! I mean it," I wiggled underneath him. I hadn't realized it, but tears came to my eyes. "Stop!"

"Come on, Als, you'll have to grow up some time," he said right before his hand reached out, but I knew that wasn't it. Elliot would never concede so quickly. His thumb and forefinger suddenly gripped my clitoris and pinched the life out of it.

I screamed to high heavens. "Now, do you wanna be my good girl? For me, my innocent babygirl?"

I whimpered at his mercy. My vision was blurred with hot tears as his fingers entered my vagina again. I couldn't force myself to move, no matter how strong the urge was. Before I knew it, my shirt was off, then my bra, and his mouth was suctioning my boobs.

But this wasn't happening to me. Not with Elliot. He was a good guy. He was my closest guy friend for the past year. I had feelings – intense feelings for him! But that didn't mean I wanted to have sex with him. I didn't truly, honest to goodness want to have sex with him or anyone. I wasn't near ready, physically or mentally.

And he'd never let me go.

Thinking on my feet, I considered my options. I could sit here and demand he stop for all the time I wanted, but I wouldn't be a virgin by the time he listened to be. I could fight back, but he was already on top of me and had his hooks deep. I wasn't giving up, though. I knew Elliot. I was lucky enough to know him, at least the obvious parts. He was desperate to get laid. He was a virgin still, too. Why he chose to do this to me I had no idea. I must have done something worse to deserve this hell. But I wasn't going to get it because, after all, I knew him. I knew he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed. He was blonde in his own special way. I had tricked and played him before.

So I played into it. "Get a condom. Now," I said in my most demanding voice, but it still trembled around the edges a bit.

Elliot grinned against my skin. "See, Als, I knew you'd come around," he said. I flinched when he said my name. While he fumbled with his belt, I sat up and looked around for some sort of escape. Suddenly, I saw it. My purse was feet away. It had pepper spray that could really cause some pain, just enough for me to make a mad dash to my car!

So I stood up, facing him. He looked ready to pounce on me so I started shrugging off my skirt, pretending to fall as it got stuck around my feet. "Get over here, Als, or I'll show you what bad girls get?" Elliot made a whipping sound. On the floor, I jumped at the sharp sound. When I reached my purse, I grabbed the pepper spray and hid it in my hands.

"Come here," he said. I walked forward, staring him in the eyes the entire time. My stomach was upside down. I could still taste his horrid breath in my mouth and feel his wet tongue along my breasts. The next few moments happened so fast all I could see was red.

One second, his hands were on his (small) dick and the next they were against his face, tearing at his eyes. I looked in my hand to find the pepper spray still streaming the burning mist. I grabbed my tank top from the floor and ran.

I made it all the way to the car before I realized what I forgot.

So I headed inside the large mansion, sneaking this way and that to make sure I couldn't be caught. Elliot was moaning in the basement. I cursed my luck as I snuck down the stairs and saw Elliot pouring water bottles into his eyes. The purse was near him. He seemed to notice me for a second time.

"You fucking cunt," he seethed, struggling to stand. I held my pepper spray out in front of me like a weapon, only then realizing it would have been smart to actually get a kitchen knife. He and I stood at a stand still until he realized what I wanted. "Take your purse, bitch, and get out of my house, but good goddamn luck getting home." He growled before trudging up the stairs. I didn't think Elliot as a threat before, but he proved me wrong. So I grabbed my purse and ran after him, making sure he didn't set the house on fire or something. I wouldn't put it past him considering what he nearly just did.

Shuddering, I tugged my top on and ran to my car. He was in the tool shed. I jumped in and numbly began to start the engine, but my hands kept shaking. I could hardly see the hole for the key, and then I realized it was because of my tears.

Finally, I began pulling out, but there he was. He hit my windshield with a pipe and I screamed, kicking my car into drive. He was insane! In my rearview mirror, I saw him running after my car yelling and flailing his arms, flipping me off. I felt multiple bumps and heard many sounds, but I prayed to God that my car could pull me through, at least to the main road.

And it did, with me driving through the tears and the pain.

By the time I hit the main road, there was a dinging sound in my car, but I no longer needed to be so attentive. I was safe.

But I wasn't unharmed.

I couldn't breathe. I kept trying to pull in air, but with every breath I was reminded of the events that took place only seconds ago. I tugged at my hair, hoping to shove them away and forget about it forever. A car horn beeped and I swerved to get out of the way. Cursing, I realized I was going much slower than all the other cars. Still barely having a normal breathing pattern, I looked at the light.

Low Tire Pressure

A mix between a snort and sob came out of my mouth. I was really slowing down. I pulled off into a neighborhood that I distinctly remembered used to lead to my elementary school. If that was the case, then I knew one family among the houses. I didn't know when I decided not to just stop and cry in my car, but I kept creeping along until we came to the bottom of the hill. Above sat three houses and behind me was the school.

I shut off the engine and just looked at my hands. The sobbing was uncontrollable. I couldn't breathe. My lungs needed air and I was doing the motion, but nothing seemed to work. I pulled at my hair, resting my head in my hands. I felt disgusted, used, and molested.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered as my breathing sped. I never should have gone out with him again, not after the lacrosse game.

An animal shuffling in the woods to my right startled me. Deftly, I climbed out of my car, realizing it was nearly nine at night, too dark for the neighbors to realize I had no pants on. I needed to get home. I didn't know what I needed to do after that, but I just needed to get home and safe and out of these clothes Elliot ruined.

I looked at my very flat tire and groaned. I had no idea how to change a tire! Debating my options, I knew I had to rely on the one and only option my body thought of before my brain did. My dad was out of town and Trish didn't know how. I didn't have money for a tow truck and didn't want anyone else seeing me, not like this, not ever.

But somebody had to.

My shaking hands fumbled around for my phone. I climbed in the passenger seat and listened to the soothing sound of the ringing. But as the ringing continued, so did my thoughts. My mind replayed every detail of thirty minutes before. It picked at each movement and word and hint, trying to see where we went wrong, trying to see what we missed.

My vagina pulsed from where his fingers jammed into me repeatedly. It was swollen and red. My clit was pulsing. My boobs had bite marks. In the cool night air, the nipples were hard and split open from the trauma they endured.

He took away my sense of safety. He took away my innocence. He took away my sanity. Every thought revolved around that assault. I was powerless, being controlled by some poser. He relished in my sensitivity, not caring whether I consented or not. He didn't care. He touched me, hurt me, threatened me, he –

"Hello?" I hadn't heard that voice in months. He was just another familiar face I passed in the halls. We had science together last year. He was so kind and open and funny. I almost liked him, but I put it on his looks. We still went through a couple months of us hanging out, singing together, and everything, but then he got a girlfriend and Elliot said he wrote a suicide note. We drifted apart during these days, I focused on helping Elliot and he focused on having a healthy relationship with Kira. He wasn't deep like Elliot, I had thought, he wouldn't get me.

My hand covered my mouth to hide my sob.

We went to elementary school together and I remembered his house because we used to walk around it in the loop every Monday. I had no room talking to him of all popular jocks, but he was my closest and only option. However, he could hardly be considered just a jock. We had music class together for most of high school, working around his constant workouts for football.

"A-Austin?" Even I could hear how my voice trembled. Oh, I sounded like a mess. I ran a shaky hand through my hair and continued. "It – it's Ally, Ally Dawson, and I was, uh…"

I sniffled and tried to get control of my lungs. They just couldn't keep up with my need for air. My head was swimming with images and memories and I just wanted them gone!

"Ally, are you outside my house? In that beat up car of yours?" Austin Moon's voice was calm and steady. He had a beautiful voice. We used to sing together in middle school, too, I remembered. I blew out a breath of tired laughter.

"Yeah, I -,"

"Be right out."

A/N: I'm not sure how long this will be just yet. I feel like I am almost done writing it all. At the moment, unfinished, I'm looking around four or five chapters. Let me tell you, this wasn't really planned out. It started as a one-shot and turned into a long story. There's not a big plot line. This isn't a big story. It's just a little fling of finding the good in the bad.

Can I see four reviews, please? Come on, it can't be that bad. Three is just tooooo easy. And I really hope people like this. FOUR?

XoXo