I threw my fork against the tray as her brazen hand returned to my disobedient cock. Despite my agitation and sole purpose of sitting with them in the first place, my growing knob wasn’t agreeing.
It was the medication, and Dr. Butala had me on some magic pill, giving my dick permission for instant arousal by a single touch, not helping win Mia back. Like an annoying fly, I pushed Maddie away—again. “A tad late for dinner, mate. You almost missed the buffet,” I said to Jude.
Jude’s eyes darted over to Mia’s table before meeting my gaze. I picked up my fork, ready to get the bangers and mash in my mouth before I ground my jaw down to the bone.
“I could say the same for you,” he smirked and ripped off the end of the sausage between his teeth.
Dammit, he was right. “Touché.”
A silence played out between us as Mia’s contagious laugh traveled throughout the room. It had been a while since I heard that laugh. My eyes slid to that laugh. My entire being grew envious of whoever caused it.
“So, fucking annoying,” Maddie deadpanned.
I pointed my fork at her. “Watch it.”
“I don’t understand you, Ollie,” Gwen piped up. “All last year, you denied the relationship. But every time someone comments on the bird, you get all narky, protecting her as if she means something to you. So, which is it?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Falling back in the chair, I stole another glance at my girl. Mia had that smile that caused her eyes to disappear along with her top lip, taking up her whole face. She never hid her smile, only leaned forward into it as another giggle escaped. Though I was over here, screwed up in disarray, her smile proved everything Ethan said was correct.
She learned to live without me.
And she was doing just fine.
Mia was on top, out of the hole in which I dug her out of. I lifted her arse up there, and she promised me she wouldn’t forget about me, said she’d always take me with her. Her independence should have angered me. Instead, seeing Mia happy brought me peace.
Her smile washed over me like the bloody plague, and I brought my fingertips to my mouth to hide my pleasure. I didn’t deserve it, not yet, but her warmness still engulfed me like a blissful disease—a disease I could die happily from.
All week I’d kept my distance from Mia and the damage I’d done.
Like every other Saturday over the year, I’d escaped to the library in hopes of seeing her. I wanted to get her alone, to talk to her. To apologize. To explain myself. But she wasn’t there.
Of course, she wasn’t going to be there. She was avoiding me.
My emotions were back and forth, sparring invisible battles. One minute I was angry, wanting to prove I didn’t need Mia in my life like she didn’t need me. The next I was kicking myself. Friday, a wanker. Saturday? A bloody mess. My medication was back in full force, but this time was different. This time, my body didn’t submit to the side effects like the pills wanted because my body didn’t belong to the side effects. My body belonged to her.
Dr. Butala sat across from me in his barren office during our two-week check-up. “Mood swings?”
“Understatement.”
“What else, Oliver?”
“I’m so angry, I fear I may lose it at any moment.” My fingers ran through my hair as I adjusted in the small chair. “And I’m horny,” I said with my hands in the air, “Why am I so horny all the time? It’s dangerous, Butala.” If I didn’t get my dick into something soon, I’d detonate.
Butala moved his glasses up the bridge of his freckled nose and brought his pen back to the notepad. “You’re on four different medications right now, one in which is supposed to stabilize your mood swings, not instigate them.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m adding to your medication.”
“Will it help with my constant hard-on?”
“What makes you angry, could neutralize someone else completely. What makes you aroused could cause another unable to perform. Medication reacts differently to each person,” Butala sighed and returned his black beady eyes to me, “It’s trial and error, Oliver.”
I slapped both hands over my thighs and looked up to the ceiling. “I don’t like what I’m hearing. Why not just put me on the same regiment you had me on last year, yeah?”
“We did. It’s not taking.”
I leaned forward and slapped a hand over his desk. “Either make me feel nothing or everything!”
“I’m doing my best,” Butala returned his hands to his keyboard in front of his computer, “This new treatment plan can take anywhere from two to four weeks, so don’t expect immediate results. I’m sending your new prescription to the nurse’s station. You’ll start classes on Monday. If you notice any significant changes, let me know.”
With a single head nod, I stood and walked out without answers or solutions. Chances were, I’d have classes with Mia starting Monday. Ready or not, I would be forced to face her.
I didn’t have two to four weeks to right myself.
I needed to make things right with Mia this weekend.
Chapter Seven
“The cruel irony is
you are my forever
but not my right now.”
—Oliver Masters
mia.
SATURDAY MORNING, I WOKE up with Ethan gone, and a note slid under my door. The torn, yellowed book page had been folded and re-folded numerous times, having dozens of creases. Despite my brain, my heart opened it. “We need to talk. Like old times, you know where to find me, -Ollie.” Even his handwriting was familiar across the blank space of the page. I drew in a shaky breath, knowing what I should do, and what I was going to end up doing.
Knowing damn well I was walking through doors of disappointment, the small ounce of hope simmering inside my heart convinced the rest of my doubt to quiet down. Without looking like I tried or put too much thought into it, I showed up in sweat pants, T-shirt, and my hair a mess on top of my head. Dean Lynch had asked for my clothing sizes after the gruesome prank and gifted me the basics. I never needed much.
As soon as the library doors closed behind me, the familiar maze brought back a wave of emotions. I hadn’t been back here in months, only to retrieve the book to learn sign language. Since then, I couldn’t bring myself to walk through that door. The library was suffocating, each step back to our spot, shelves closed in on me. I picked up my pace, keeping my eyes fixed ahead.
Ollie sat on the floor in his corner, and he lifted his head as soon as I entered our nook. We looked like twins in matching gray sweats and white tees. His brown hair poked out from under the infamous beanie he always wore whenever his life was in ruins. He never hid his mood; even his eyes screamed, “I’m a fucking train wreck.”
He tilted his head, and I thought I saw the man I loved in those green eyes, but these days I could never be sure. I needed to know if it was him. My sights set on his face, appreciating the prominent wave of his lips, and the small freckle that usually disappeared in the curve of his smile. He wasn’t smiling now, but his face still managed to blow me away to places we both should have stayed.
He looked away, feeling insecure as I stood there in the heartbeats of silence. His cutting jawline flexed against the words we both wanted to say, but still trying to figure out how. The words of affirmation ran through my head as I moved closer, but he beat me to the punch.