by Cole Lepley
Now the house is too quiet. I find myself walking through the rooms, memorizing the smells, listening for her laugh—but it’s silent.
When I make my way back to the kitchen, I reach for the kettle and place it on the stove. I take a seat at the small table by the window while I wait for the water to heat up. I try to distract myself by scrolling through Instagram, but the sound of a basketball echoing through the open window catches my attention instead.
I stand up from my chair even though I know I shouldn’t. There’s only one reason to hear that sound. I walk over to the stove and turn it off quickly before continuing toward the front window. It’s hard to see clearly from this far away, but there’s no mistaking who’s throwing three-pointers like his life depends on it. My heart starts pounding again. He is still here.
I watch him for another couple of minutes until I find my nerve. Before I can change my mind, I reach for my sweater and throw it on over my T-shirt.
Each step I take off the front wraparound porch is a struggle. A struggle to move forward and a struggle not to turn back. By the time I cross the street, Ollie finally misses a shot and lets off a string of profanities as the ball comes bouncing in my direction.
I bend down and pick it up. “I’d say you’re a little off your game these days.”
The smile that lights up his face makes my heart feel like it could explode. Some things never change, I guess.
He plants his hands on his hips and breathes heavily. “Well, maybe if I had a partner, I wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
I twirl the ball on my finger. “Where’s Hunter? Isn’t he usually attached to your hip?”
Oliver laughs. “These days he’s more attached to Elliot.” His face scrunches at his own words. “That sounds fucking terrible, I take that back. They’re dating now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really? I’m surprised you’re so chill about that.”
He shrugs and takes a step toward me. The way his T-shirt sticks to his body from his intense workout makes my stomach flip. He’s certainly nailed the art of always looking sexy.
“Hunter’s my best friend, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to take care of my sister.”
I toss the ball at his chest and he catches it. “Good to know.”
“You wanna play?” he asks, nodding over his shoulder.
I glance down at my flip flops and then back to him. “I’m not dressed for basketball.”
He makes a lap around me slowly, bouncing the ball as he walks. I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. “You may be right,” he says when he comes to stop in front of me. “Doesn’t matter what you wear though, you’ll never beat me.”
He gives me a cocky grin and I laugh. “I seem to remember beating you in a particularly heated game of horse.”
Oliver scoffs. “The only reason I lost is because you cheated.”
“I cheated? How?”
He points a finger at me. “You wore a tank top on purpose. How was I supposed to focus with all of that going on?” He swirls his hand around my chest and I cross my arms defensively.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m a man, darlin’. You can’t hold me responsible for the way my dick responds to your half-dressed body.”
“You’ll never change, will you Ollie?”
He’s quiet for a moment, bouncing the ball slowly. “Probably not.”
It’s easy to forget how much I hate him when we’re standing this close to each other. This casual conversation is bullshit, and we both know it.
“I wanted to come,” he says suddenly. When I don’t say anything back, he takes a breath. “To the funeral. But I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“Well, it wasn’t about me.” There’s an edge to my tone I can’t hold back. He senses my hostility and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“I know that, but I was…” His voice trails off and his jaw gets tense. He can’t finish that sentence and I know why. Oliver will never admit something scares him. He’s too proud for that.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s done, and we’re putting the house on the market this week.”
His eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Yes, really. What am I supposed to do with it?”
He shrugs and then tosses the ball into the grass. “I don’t know. It’ll be weird having someone new over there.”
His smoky hazel eyes bore into mine and I know I’m on the verge of breaking. He does that to me. No matter what Ollie does, one little look is all it takes for me to forgive him. He’s been doing it since we were seven, and I’m sure that’s another thing that won’t change.
But I’m not about to tell him that.
“Things change, I guess.”
He keeps his gaze locked on me, pinning my feet to the pavement. I don’t know why I came over here. I don’t know what I expected to feel when I saw him, but right now I’d do anything to take it back. To be standing in the kitchen, sipping tea, and not staring back at every reason I stay away from this town.
Oliver looks over my shoulder for a moment, the muscles in his jaw working again. He looks back to me.
“How long are you staying?”
“Not long,” I answer quickly.
His chest rises and falls with a harsh breath. “Okay, well can I see you before you go?”
“See me?”
“I mean, like take you out for dinner or something.” He takes a step closer. “It’s been a long time.”
It’s my turn to take an unsteady breath. Every vein in my body is pulsing and willing me to turn away from him. To run back to the house and pretend I was never stupid enough to walk over here in the first place. But he’s still looking at me with a sadness in his eyes I’ve seldom seen.
I pull my sweater tighter around me, shielding myself from him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
The corner of lips curl up slightly. “You love bad ideas.”
I laugh under my breath. “Not anymore.”
I turn away from him before he can pull me back again. I’m not sure how I find the strength to walk away, but I don’t stop until I make it all the way to my old bedroom. That’s when I let the first tear fall.
On my hands and knees, I crawl under my bed and reach blindly for the box I know is still there. With my hand, I brush off the years of dust that have accumulated on top before I peel the lid back. I sit cross-legged on the floor, sorting through various photos of my adolescence until I find the one I’m looking for. It’s the only one I have like it, and it can never be replaced.
Having that conversation with Ollie would be too painful for both of us. No matter what we say, we can’t change it. It doesn’t matter that I’ve spent the last five years searching faces for one that could compare to his. It doesn’t matter that I left my heart here with Ollie and he still has it. All that matters is that I keep moving forward. The moment I let myself be dragged back into the memory of us is when I fall apart again, and this time I’m not sure I would survive.
Chapter 3
Happier
Oliver - Then
Mud flies over my head and a disgruntled squeal sounds behind me. Charlie tightens her grip around my waist when I take a sharp turn up the dirt road that lines the orchard. It’s been raining for most of the summer, so I’ve been amusing myself by taking her through every mudhole I can find during our ride.
Her nails dig into my side once more and I let off the gas and roll to a stop at the end of the road. I need to slow down and wait for Hunter anyway. He probably pulled off the trail somewhere to fool around with Jess. They’ve been dating for about two weeks now, and she’s only let him feel her up once, over her tank top. Totally lame.
I put the four-wheeler in park and glance over my shoulder with a smirk. “Was I going too fast?”
Charlie punches me in the shoulder and then pulls her helmet off with a scowl. “I’m completely soaked.”
The whine in
her voice and her choice of words takes my mind to a dirty place. She may be my best friend, but I think about her naked quite often. I can’t help it. Her body is perfection. Lithe, toned legs; flat stomach; long shiny blonde hair. That face, though—and those greyish blue eyes that turn darker when she’s angry. Kind of like they’re doing right now. So fucking hot.
I remove my helmet and set it down on the fender in front of the handlebars. “I’m sorry,” I say, holding in a laugh. I reach out and run my hand through the tangled, mud-streaked strands of her hair. “But this is a good look for you.”
She scoffs and slaps my hand away. “You’re stupid.” She swings her leg over the seat and hops to the ground. “I need to get off that thing for a minute. I think you gave me whiplash coming up the hill.”
I grin, sliding off to stand beside her. “Never, darlin’. You’re always safe with me.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re also full of shit.”
My grin widens and I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her into my side. I tip my head down to speak close to her ear. “Come on now, Charlie. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
She melts into me, her arms wrapping around my waist so casually. It doesn’t take long for those plump, full lips to morph into the smile I’ve been waiting for. The one she only gives to me. After another moment, she laughs and shoves me sideways.
“You better not,” she says, her hands messing with her hair again. Her expression shifts into something less playful and more serious when she locks eyes with me again. “I have a date tomorrow night.”
I pretend to appear disinterested, but my heart beats a couple extra times. Even though I would never cross that line with her, I still hate to think about anyone else doing it.
“With who?”
Her eyes shift away while she continues to work a large chunk of mud out of her hair. “Liam Nickles.”
“Nope.”
This gets her attention and her eyes jump back to mine. “What do you mean, ‘nope?’”
“Exactly what I said.” I step past her and reach for my helmet. She follows me, clearly expecting more of an explanation. My fingers mess with the straps and she moves to stand in front of me.
“Ollie.”
I shrug, leaning back on the seat. “He’s a douchebag.”
“Not a good enough reason. You say that about everyone.”
“That’s because I know what a douchebag looks like, acts like, talks like—and you know what they say.”
“Takes one to know one?”
I laugh, although it’s forced. “Ha-ha. Very funny, but no.” I level my gaze at her. “Pick someone else.”
Her lips press together. I can tell her patience is running thin, but I need more time. She can’t fall in love yet.
This time when she speaks, her voice is small. “Liam is nice.”
I shake my head more firmly this time. “No, he’s not. He’s a second string, wannabe fuckboy, who will break your heart.”
Charlie laughs. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
“Whoa!” I say, holding my hand out in protest. I cock my head. “Oliver Monroe is never second string. Let’s get that shit straight right now.” She bites her lip to hide her amused smile, but I keep going. “And most importantly, I would never break your heart.”
The smile fades almost instantly. “You can’t promise that.”
“Of course I can, darlin.” I lower my voice and take a step toward her, abandoning my helmet on the seat. My hands frame the sides of her face so I have her full attention. “You and me are forever. I would never let some bullshit relationship come between us. At the end of the day, if you need me—I’m yours. No questions asked.”
“Same goes for me,” she says and her chest rises and falls a little faster. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. “You come first.”
I’m staring at her mouth, the words she’s saying jumbling together and not registering properly. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss her. How I want to throw her down in that mudhole and make her come first for real.
An engine roars loudly in the distance and I reluctantly turn my head. The front of Hunter’s four-wheeler ramps the dirt pile at the cusp of the hill before landing precariously on one wheel. I take a step back from Charlie when he comes tearing up the road and screeches to a stop beside us. The blonde on the back has a death grip on his T-shirt and his own golden locks are blown back from the wind and sticky with thick mud.
“Where’s your helmet?”
Hunter smirks, looking behind him and then back to me. “We lost it.”
I laugh once. “How?”
“Long story.” He nods to the trail ahead of us, that shit-eating grin giving away the story he’s not telling. “She’s cold. We need to get back.”
That girl is not fucking cold. It’s late August and hot as hell today. I was half-tempted to dive into the old pond just to cool off.
But I’ve never been one to cock-block my best bud, so I simply nod. “Okay, I need to get Charlie into some dry clothes, anyway.” I tickle her side and she tries to squirm away from me. “She’s all wet.”
Hunter shoots me a questioning look, which I pretend to ignore. He’s always on my shit about supposedly having ‘secret’ feelings for Charlie. I hate to break it to him, but I’m stronger than that. I won’t let a girl get me all twisted up inside. No matter how fucking cute she is when she laughs. Or smiles. Or breathes.
“I’ll meet you back at the house,” I say to him before turning to Charlie. “Well, you gonna drive us home or what?”
Her eyes light up and something weird swells in my chest.
“You’re really gonna let me drive?”
To be honest, I like to be the one in control when a motorized vehicle is involved. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s my job as the man to protect her from potentially dangerous situations. I’ve only had my actual drivers’ license for three months, but I’ve been riding since I was old enough to stand up straight. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I’ll be right behind her if shit gets real.
“I trust you.”
I toss her the keys and she excitedly puts her helmet back on. I wait for her to get on first before climbing on behind her. My hands rest on her slender waist while she turns the key and revs the engine. She yells over her shoulder, “You ready?”
I barely nod before she takes off down the trail, following the cloud of dust left by an impatient Hunter. I cling to her, my thighs pressing firmly against her hips. Her ass rubs along me a little too good from time to time, but I’ll chalk that up to her lacking the ability to steer properly. My hands, however…well, let’s just say that her waist is so tiny that sometimes I find myself grabbing parts of her that have some added fullness. Completely accidental. Simply guided by my instinct to survive this ride in one piece.
We make it back to the house in record time. I consider punching Hunter for driving so fast. I’m pretty sure Charlie’s competitive instinct was motivating her to keep up with him. That thought passes quickly though, when she steps off the four-wheeler and picks at the shirt sticking to her body.
The brown-tinged fabric is completely see-through and clinging to every single curve. She lets out a breathy sigh and my pants get a little tighter. “I need a shower.”
“I can help you out with that.” I smirk at her and she slaps me in the chest.
“You’re ridiculous today, you know that?”
Nope. This is pretty much what I think about all the time.
Instead of saying that, I wink at her. “My bad.”
She looks down the driveway and then back to me, chewing on her bottom lip. I know she wants to talk about it again. Her fucking date. I’m not sure why, but she’s always seeking my approval when it comes to guys. My heart isn’t developed enough to tell her I don’t want her to date anyone. Period.
“Ollie,” she says hesitantly. “I really wish you’d be happy for me.”
There it i
s. How does she not know that’s what I want more than anything? Easy—because I don’t tell her. I don’t tell her that every single one of my thoughts begin and end with her. I don’t tell her that every time she smiles at me, I try to memorize what I did so I can do it over and over.
I don’t say any of those things because I know I’ll never allow myself to be with her. Even if she would have me, I know inevitably I’d fuck it up. I’d ruin the only relationship that truly matters to me and then I’d have nothing. I can’t picture a world where she isn’t part of my life.
I force a smile. It must be convincing, because she smiles back. Without a second thought, I lean in and kiss her on the forehead.
I pull back just enough to see her eyes. “I am.” She wraps her arms around me, and I rest my head on top of hers. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”
Chapter 4
I Don’t Want To
Charlotte - Now
Memories are subjective. We choose to remember certain things the way we want to. In the past, the martyr in me always wanted to rationalize specific behaviors that were harmful. I’m not sure I’ve changed much. The moment I saw his face, that cocky smirk I didn’t realize I could miss so much—I almost broke. All of a sudden I was seventeen again and I was standing in front of the boy I so desperately loved.
But then I remembered.
Ollie and I were never easy. We were messy and lacked boundaries, and most of all we never said what we were truly feeling. I could blame it on being young, but if I’m being honest, I would blame it on fear. The fear of rejection is paralyzing when your world is that small.
