“Panic attack. You have to talk to me,” I panted, stumbling over to another tree and collapsing to the ground.
Jake took a seat beside me and ran his hand up my back. “Ollie kicked that security guard’s arse, and you would think the security guard would have taken Ollie into custody afterward, but no. The chap walks off, and I still don’t even know what happened. One second I see you there, the next you’re running across the field the moment Ollie launches at the bloke. I figured, well, Ollie looks like he has things under control, and I’m not helpful in a brawl, so now here I am.”
Here Jake was.
Here I was.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
I shook my head. “I think I just really need to be alone, Jake.” My voice faltered. I dropped my head into my trembling hands as my head pounded against them.
“Yeah, alright.” Jake stood and brushed the back of his pants with his hands. “Know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”
With that, Jake walked off.
Losing the struggle to fight back tears, I pulled my knees to my chest as the aching returned, sickness competing against it. Loving Ollie was the easy part. He made it so incredibly easy. It was everything else that was complicated. Flipping up the brim of Ollie’s beanie, I dropped my head over my knees and clenched my eyes. Maybe if I drifted to sleep, I would wake up to reality. Oscar couldn’t be Ollie’s brother, and if he was, it only meant things between Ollie and me would never be the same.
You couldn’t come back from this.
The wind swirled angrily as the cold grew bitter, biting my cheeks, stinging my fingertips. I wasn’t sure if I’d fallen asleep, or how long I’d been sitting out here. The sun descended. My bones trembled, but I deserved to feel the burn. My throat was raw, but I deserved to feel the harshness. My stomach was in knots, but I deserved to feel the shame. I deserved everything happening to me because I didn’t deserve him. My eyes could barely stay open. They stung as they fought against the cold wind.
His silhouette off in the distance arrested my swollen eyes. He walked toward me, every detail of his beauty coming into view the closer he drew near. He held two fingers between his eyes as he walked in my direction. Long, determined strides, but shoulders slumped inside his gray hoodie. His hood was pulled up over his head, and I tried to stand, but it was no use.
He crouched down in front of me and searched my eyes. His were bloodshot and broken—he’d been crying. Leaning over, he kissed the top of my head before grabbing my hands and helping me to my feet.
We walked back to Dolor, hand in hand.
He didn’t say a word.
It was a curse and a blessing.
Through the doors, down the corridor, and up to Ollie’s door, we stopped. My hand shook in his, not ready for the inescapable truth—we could never be the same, and he could never look at me the same. Not after being with his brother.
Once inside his room, Ollie took off his shoes. He withdrew his sweatshirt, and then his shirt. My heart struck against my ribcage like a trapped bull, watching him silently. He stood before me and wrapped his fingers around the bottom hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head, my shirt following. He crouched down, untied each of my shoes before I kicked them off. Then he slid off my jeans.
His actions were bizarre, but if he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t. Perhaps this was his way of coping, and I would be whatever he needed.
Ollie grabbed my hand, and I followed him to the bed. We both lay on our sides, quiet and still. My back was pressed against his torso. He found my hand and held it out in front of me as he twisted the ring around my finger—a promise made not too long ago. Was my mistake grounds for allowing him out of it?
He moved the hair off my shoulder and neck, and kissed my shoulder blade, his lips lingering longer than usual.
He wanted one more night.
He was giving us one more night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I’m yours, and you’re mine,
and that’s all I’ll ever know.”
—Oliver Masters
“MEET ME IN THE library -O,” the note beside my head read. When I woke, Ollie was gone. My sore eyes were raw from the day before as I tried blinking the sun away. The nausea had already set in. If I didn’t show, he couldn’t end us. Avoiding him would be better for me, but not for him. I’d done enough damage. I had to give him this.
After showering and brushing my teeth, I headed for the library. Taking the stairs slowly, I walked toward the end of the route of us. If I could have, I would have been crying, but I was all tapped out of tears. I had on the same clothes I’d worn my first day here. My shorts and “Cute but Psycho” tee. It only seemed fitting. This was the girl I’d been when I arrived, but ever since I’d been touched by Ollie, I would never be the same. Even though I dressed the part, I was forever changed. Even if I wanted to, I could never build another fucking switch—not after him.
After turning the corner, I stood at the end of the hallway. Ollie waited right outside the library door with his back slumped against the wall. His gray pair of sweats hung perfectly around his hips, and his white shirt made his inked skin more dramatic. He lifted his head and squinted down the hall. No smile formed, but his eyes still held the same look he always had for me. The one that never went away after four months. He looked at me as if he got lost and found in me all at once. My presence still affected him, and his eyes grasped on to me—clinging for life—in case I disappeared.
He straightened his posture as I walked down the hall of shame.
When I approached him, he bent down and picked up the two cups of coffee, handed me mine, and lifted the brown paper bag off the floor—still nothing, not even a smile. His face carried hurt, but his battered green eyes held a glimmer of hope and a spark of wonder.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. Ollie nodded and opened the door for me before walking me through the maze of books until we reached his spot.
It was our spot, but now it was back to only his.
We sat side by side in the nook. Ollie dropped the brown paper bag between us and let out an exhale. “Mia …” He paused and cleared his throat. “I … Dammit, Mia …” he choked out.
His strength dulled, his face unreadable. Looking into his wounded eyes, I knew I had done this to him, and I hated myself for it. There was nothing I wanted more than to carry all the pain he felt. Pointing blame at a girl who no longer existed wouldn’t ease the betrayal. Instead, I wanted him just to come out and say it. He chewed on his lip, fighting the tears, and finding the words I earned to hear.
“Don’t let me down easy, Ollie. I don’t deserve easy.” I sat the coffee down beside me. I couldn’t stomach anything. “Please, just say it.”