And now it was me without the control.
I inched my lips closer to his, and Ollie took in a sharp breath.
“Mia …” He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head as if it were too much.
“I’m letting the moment happen the way it’s meant to. Whatever you’re doing to me, I can’t stop it.” I brushed my lips against his soft ones as I spoke, which wasn’t satisfying my need for him. “Most of my time with you is either spent fighting some internal conflict or trying to comprehend what’s happening to me. I don’t even talk like this, Ollie. Why am I even telling you this? What have you done to me?” I smiled despite my frustration.
He pressed his forehead to mine as his breathing staggered. The refreshing mint in his breath sent shivers up my arms. “I’m utterly gobsmacked. I have no words right now. That is what you do to me.”
Caving, my traitorous lips crashed with Ollie’s, and the rest of my body betrayed me. My disloyal hand was in his hair as my unfaithful breath became his. Every part of me abandoned me, and I could do nothing about it. I belonged to him.
His lips parted in dire demand and as soon as his warm tongue flicked against mine, a moan freed itself between us. I didn’t know if it had come from him or myself, but I didn’t care. Yesterday’s flames picked up in a frenzy as his warm hands found my bare skin at my sides, warming me in more ways than one.
Ollie pulled away and wet his lips. “I hope … no, I’m praying you’re not toying with me right now,” he said breathlessly. “Mia, tell me you’re not fucking with me.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t grasp what he was saying. Here I was, telling him exactly what had been on my mind moments ago, more than I had ever admitted to anyone. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I searched the question written on his face. “Look me in the eyes, and you tell me if I’m playing with you, Ollie.” Honestly, I didn’t know what he’d find. Truth, possibly?
Ollie rested his hand on my face and moved my hair to look into my eyes. I held my breath in anticipation, waiting for what would come of it. There was nothing there. There couldn’t be. But once his green eyes stared into mine, it quenched his doubt.
His lips surrendered once again, and this time there was no holding back from either one of us. He pulled me on top of him, and I removed my sweatshirt between moments without his lips on mine. His taste, his smell, his warmth—it all left me intoxicated.
Ollie’s mouth moved slow over mine, savoring every intricate detail of me. Unhurried, he appreciated us like a work of art. His long fingers gripped my hips, and I raked my fingers through his hair as I sucked gently on his neck and behind his ear.
“Mia, we can’t,” Ollie breathed.
My nose grazed the length of his neck. “We can’t what?”
He flipped me over on my back, so he was now on top of me and settled between my legs. His hard arousal pressed into me as he said, “We can’t go any further.”
“Your body says otherwise …”
He hung his head for a moment, and when his eyes returned to mine, his cheeks flushed as he smiled. “Around you, my body tends to have a mind of its own.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Ollie deeply inhaled while he stroked my forehead with his thumb. “The problem is, I’m not just a guy, and you’re not just a girl, so the last thing we should do is treat this as such.”
“I’m still not following.” He wasn’t just a guy. He was the guy capable of seeing me in a way no one else had. But I was just a girl, and suddenly I realized I would never be or give him what he needed.
“As much as our bodies would disagree, we’re not ready.” Ollie fell over to the side of me, and a chill replaced his warmth. “I’m not a quick fuck, Mia. Either you’re all in with me, or you’re not, and you’re not ready for that, and you’re not ready for what this school could do to us.”
Rejection.
Looking around the room, I was convinced there was a hidden camera. No one had ever turned me down for sex. What did Ollie mean “all in”? What did he mean “what this school could do to us”? Instead of entertaining him, I found my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head as I gradually came apart at the seams. What in God’s name was he doing to me?
Ollie ran his hand over his face before adjusting himself in his pants. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.” I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his forehead. And suddenly, I understood his mentioning of the stinging electricity behind my eyes. The lightning crashed, but I forced it away.
Around Ollie, I didn’t feel like myself at all. He made me weak, exposed, and defenseless; he was no good for me, and it was all because I had carved him out a damn door. It was dangerous.
And here I was, kissing his forehead like a sucker.
My hands stilled over the doorknob, and before I opened it, I turned one last time to see Ollie with his hands over his face and through his hair, and I shook my head and left.
The mess hall was crowded more than usual that evening, and I assumed it was because it wasn’t only Ollie and I who had skipped lunch. The storm had circled Dolor, and the worst of it had come back around for a second time. Zeke’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the seat and bobbed his head in all directions. I attempted to talk to him through the rain whipping against the window beside us. After offering to switch tables, it seemed to anger him even more as he shook his head violently.
“Zeke, it’s okay. It can’t touch you,” I assured him, but in a flash of lightning, a branch from a nearby tree slammed against the window, causing Zeke to fall out of his chair and scurry against an adjacent wall. He belted an ear-piercing shriek, and I pushed out of my chair and ran around the table to sit by his side.
Pinning his head against my chest, I stroked his curly brown hair as the scream dissolved, but he remained trembling in my arms. I was unsure of what had come over me, or why I felt the need to comfort him, but Zeke reminded me of someone and I had this compulsion to protect him.
I hummed a familiar tune as my fingers ran through his sweaty mop over his head, clutching him tight. Many eyes peered over at us, and the only sound was the bass of the thunder. Jake and Alicia’s jaws went slack mid-chew, Bria raised an annoying black brow, and Ollie dropped his fork as awe stuck his green eyes, but I ignored their judgments and continued to calm the storm inside Zeke, humming a tune as he slowly relaxed in my arms.
The hum and the brush of my hand against his forehead were all too familiar. A door that had been locked for far too long opened, flooding memories of my mother. She used to do this to me.
In the middle of the night, my mother would wake me from a night terror. She held me close against her chest, wiping the sweaty strands sticking to my face as she whispered things like, “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry,” before humming me back into contentment. She smelled like a cigarette soaked in perfume, and I found it comforting because it was the smell of my mother.