by Cole Lepley
The For Sale sign in the front yard mocks me when I pull into the driveway later that day. I stare at it from inside my car for so long my eyes start to blur.
Being here isn’t something I had planned on. I know myself. I know how easy it is to fall back into old patterns, to get lost in something I should stay away from. My Gram’s heart was in the right place, but I’m afraid my own heart is too battered to listen.
I force myself to get out the car and walk directly over to the sign. With a strong tug, I pull it from the lawn and carry it to the small shed beside the house. Once it’s safely locked away, I turn around and look across the street to the gated driveway.
A million memories flash in my mind at once, all of which, I want to forget.
I don’t want to remember what it felt like to love Oliver. I’d be insane to want that. Over the years I’ve seen what a relationship should be like. I was loved and cared for and put before anything else, and still—it wasn’t enough.
No one else ever made my stomach flip when they smiled at me or made every cell in my body catch fire when they kissed me.
He ruined me for every other man, and now I’m forced to live across the street from him again. It’s the cruelest form of torture and all I can do is pray that I’m strong enough to survive it.
Chapter 11
Only
Oliver - Now
The For Sale sign is noticeably missing from Charlie’s front yard and my stomach drops. That could only mean one thing—she sold the house already.
My brain surges into panic mode and that strange thumping in my chest resumes. Once again, I’ve run out of time. Only this time will be different. She’ll never have a reason to come back now. There won’t be that slim fucking chance I’ll catch sight of her during a visit.
Not that it’s ever happened before. If she did ever come back for a holiday or a random occasion, I never saw her anyway. She’s been a ghost for the past five years. Sometimes it was like I could sense her presence, but never saw her with my own eyes. It was the worst feeling. Wanting her to be here, but at the same time knowing I was the reason she wasn’t.
I wish I could say I’ve matured since then. In a lot of ways, maybe I have—but my coping mechanisms remain the same. It’s nine o’clock on Saturday morning, and I’m already half lit. Actually, I’m probably still drunk from the night before. It doesn’t help that I’m sitting on my pool deck drinking a beer while I wait for Hunter.
Elliot is home for the weekend and apparently, it’s now acceptable to have co-ed sleepovers in the main house. Our parents aren’t home much, but late last night my father was lurking around in the kitchen. He didn’t bat an eye when Hunter followed her upstairs after she picked us up from the bar downtown. He’s being surprisingly chill about their relationship, all things considered.
She got a half smile from him, while I got a terse nod and look of judgment when I stumbled down the hallway. I guess any parent would feel some type of way about their grown-ass son still living at home and doing the same shit they used to do in high school.
I polish off my beer and reach into the small cooler beside me for another when the pool gate swings open. Hunter is dressed properly for golf at the Lodge, but his attitude appears to be subdued. He’s more than likely hung-over as well. I’m just better at performing like a champion than he is.
I tip my bottle to him with a grin. “I’m ready.”
Hunter sits down next to me with a huff. He leans forward and rubs his hands down his face a few times. “I feel like shit. I barely got any sleep last night.”
My face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. We’re tight, but I don’t want to know any details about nights you spend with my sister.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that.” He shifts in his chair for a moment but doesn’t elaborate further. He nods to the bottle clutched in my hand. “Guess I have to drive.”
With a wink, I toss him my keys. “I’ll let you drive my new truck. It’ll be fun.”
Hunter doesn’t argue. He knows better than that.
The golf cart soars down the path along the ninth hole, garnering us a few glares from some of the regulars down on the green. Hunter grabs onto to the handrail and shoots me a look.
“Dude! You know you can still get a DUI on a golf cart, right? Maybe I should drive.”
I laugh, pressing the gas pedal further to the floor while tilting my beer back. “Don’t be a pussy.”
He scowls. “I don’t think my desire for personal safety makes me a pussy.”
The breaks squeak as I bring us to a stop. “That’s exactly what it means,” I say, smirking at him.
Hunter gives me a look of disapproval as he exits the cart. “You’re a little extra today, my friend,” he remarks, grabbing a club from his bag.
Brushing it off, I finish my beer and reach for another one. “I’m just having fun. What’s wrong with that?”
“I can tell when you are trying to compensate for something. Last night you practically closed the bar down singing karaoke with those women that were at least twice your age.”
The memory makes me smile. He’s exaggerating. They were in their late thirties, tops. I grab my club and swagger onto the green. I’m still three under par, but it hasn’t been my best game. I always strive for excellence, no matter what I’m doing.
I set the ball on the tee and line up my shot. “You’re just jealous,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m not stupid enough to strap myself down in my prime.”
I hear him laugh as I send the ball soaring through the air. “Yeah, that’s what it is,” he says with heavy sarcasm. He walks up beside me and sets his ball. “You’re gonna have to talk about it sometime, and you know I’m the one you’re gonna talk to when you do.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a shitty liar. Must be something you passed on to your sister.”
A whistle escapes my lips. “Ooh, someone sounds bitter.” I step closer to him and give his shoulder a shove. “And you never did tell me what you were arguing about.”
His jaw twitches slightly before he takes his swing. The ball veers far left, and he curses under his breath. At least I’m able to maintain my awesomeness under pressure.
He cocks his head at me. “Did you know that Elliot is pledging a sorority?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t have to pledge, she’s a legacy.”
“Don’t you think that’s something she should have discussed with me first?”
I pat him on the back and then start walking back to the cart. “It’s not a big deal. Our mother did too, when she went to WVU. It’s tradition.”
He’s on my heels as I reach into the cooler once more. They’re going down a little too smoothly this morning.
“That’s nice and all,” he grumbles, “but it also means she’ll be going to frat parties and washing cars in her bikini.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Oh, Hunter. Do you remember the shit we used to do in college?”
He nods emphatically. “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m worried.”
“It’s a rite of passage. You can’t expect her to limit her experience just because you’re excessively jealous over basically everything she does. You have to trust her.”
“I do trust her,” he protests, grabbing a beer for himself. “I don’t trust drunk college guys trying to take advantage of her.”
I lower my sunglasses from the top of my head and shrug. “I’m taking neutral ground on this one.”
He slumps down in the passenger seat and sighs. “I guess it’s something I have to get used to. There’s a lot of things she’s going to do that I’ve already experienced before. It would be wrong of me to expect her to skip all the fun stuff.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s the most logical thing you’ve ever said.”
“I love her. I know we have shit we’re going to need to work on, but it’s worth it to me.”
That strange feeling returns to the pit of my sto
mach. Recently I’ve started to have similar thoughts. The major difference is, the girl I love doesn’t return those feelings. It was easier when she was gone. Finding ways to distract myself from actual emotions was fairly simple. Now that she’s back, all I can think about is how much I screwed up, and how much I wish I could find a way to fix it.
I pause with my hand on the wheel, my eyes cast downward. “Charlie’s leaving again.”
Hunter remains quiet for a moment, so I glance over at him and catch the sympathy on his face. It makes me angry. I don’t want anyone’s pity. This is my fault and I’m not too prideful to admit that.
“Did you talk to her?”
I grunt angrily and lean back against the seat. “Yeah, but it didn’t fucking matter.” I look over at him again. “She wouldn’t let me talk, and when she did, it wasn’t about anything important. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“How do you know?” My words come out more forcefully than I intended, and he shrinks back. I sigh. “Sorry, okay? I’m just really fucking frustrated right now.”
“I get that,” he says calmly. I’m about to interrupt and tell him that he doesn’t, but he keeps going. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to tell her how you feel.”
I laugh. “She doesn’t care how I feel.”
Hunter turns in his seat and looks me directly in the eye. “Ollie, if you love her, you need to tell her. I don’t care if you’re afraid or want people to think you’re too much of a man to have feelings. I know you do.”
I scoff and reach for my beer again. He groans when I tilt it back until it’s empty. I don’t respond to him. After tossing the empty bottle in the back of the cart, I punch the gas pedal to the floor.
We didn’t talk about Charlie for the rest of the afternoon. He didn’t even make a humorous comment when I puked off the side of the deck when we were having lunch. I apologized to the waitress, but she seemed more concerned than anything else. I’m just going to chalk it up to going too hard. It has nothing to do with me being out of control and unable to handle my emotions. Nothing at all.
Now I’m running so fast my lungs bleed. Each breath burns like hot flames, but I don’t stop. My feet pound the pavement, and each step brings me no closer to clarity. Snippets of my life with her flash in my mind and every scenario I try to change brings me right back to where I am now. Alone.
I can’t be the only one who feels this way. I know she feels it too. It was in her eyes. The longing that’s kept me from sleep more times than I can count. We were never supposed to be apart. She belongs with me, and I belong with her. I know that.
When I slow to a jog down the road from her house, I notice all the lights are off. By the time I make it to her driveway, I can already feel myself losing the internal struggle in my head. She doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t care how I feel about her.
I say this over and over again until I find the strength to walk up my driveway and away from hers. Tomorrow she’ll go back to New York and probably never think of me again, and I need to find a way to accept it.
Chapter 12
Kissing Is The Easy Part
Charlotte - Then
I’ll bet Ollie can feel my glare from across the street.
He’s currently getting ready to head to the lake for his annual end-of-school-year party. I’m sitting on my front porch playing cards with my Gram, refusing to go. After the stunt he pulled last night, I’m shocked he still expects me to.
My Gram has been huffing and muttering under her breath the entire time. She has the ability to sense when there’s any discord between us. Lately, there’s been a lot.
“Come on, Charlie. Out with it.”
She speaks without looking up from her cards and I lean back in my chair, frowning.
“What?” I ask, feigning innocence.
Her eyebrow arches. “You and Ollie. Why isn’t he over here with an excessive amount of cologne on, sweet talkin’ you off this porch right now?”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with Ollie.”
She laughs. “I’m glad to see that public school education is giving you excellent grammar skills.” Her head nods over her shoulder. “I should have paid to send you down to St. Margaret’s. No boys there to make you look so miserable.”
I fold my cards and shake my head. “Nope. I’m not miserable. I’m pissed.”
“Well, what’d he do now?”
I take a breath, pausing for dramatic affect. “He kissed me last night.”
She snorts. “So? I bet he’s done it before.”
“Not like this.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “He was way out of line to kiss me like that.” I huff indignantly. “I have a boyfriend.”
She scoffs. “He’s just your arm candy. That’s all Liam is.”
“Ollie would argue that he’s arm candy, too.”
Her head shakes and she gives me a serious look, leaning forward slightly. “No, honey. Ollie isn’t arm candy. That boy is liquid candy.”
I laugh again. “What does that even mean?”
“He spreads his love around to everyone. It’s like a force that can’t be stopped.” She smiles at me. “Then there comes a certain point when that love starts to coagulate, and it just lands on one person.”
My mouth drops open. “That is the craziest thing anyone has ever said.”
She shrugs, shuffling the cards in her hand. “It’s the truth.” She motions toward me. “You’re that person, dear.”
I press my lips into a firm line and my eyes drift back across the street. Headlights are coming down the driveway and I have a strong suspicion which direction they’ll go. When they keep coming straight across the road, my Gram plants her hands on the arm of her chair and stands.
“I’ll be inside, watching my program.” She nods to Ollie’s idling truck. “You put that poor boy out of his misery and quit being so stubborn. You can’t fight fate.”
Before I can argue against her logic, she shuffles to the screen door. Ollie is walking up the sidewalk. I stand up with a sigh and walk to the edge of the porch.
He shoves his hands in his pockets at the foot of the stairs, the bill of his cap pulled down low on his head. “Can we talk?”
The refusal I had rehearsed in my head goes out the window when I see his face. He looks so sad my own heart clenches.
“Yeah,” I say with resignation in my tone. I walk toward the stairs. “We can talk.”
I follow him down the driveway until he stops beside his truck with his back to me. “I know I was out of line last night. I should have asked.”
“No,” I say, stepping closer and grabbing his shoulder. He turns around to face me, his features guarded. “That’s not what I’m pissed about.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Then why? If you wanted me to kiss you, then why are you freaking out?”
“It was the way you kissed me.”
He laughs. “Are you seriously insinuating that I’m a bad kisser?”
The shocked expression on his face almost makes me laugh. Leave it to Ollie to somehow take this to a shallow place. It’s so much deeper than that.
I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I mean.”
This catches his attention, and the cockiness dissolves from his posture and morphs into doubt. “Then, what?”
“It’s not fair of you to kiss me like I mean more to you.” I take a quick breath, blowing it out and meeting his eyes. “Like you actually love me.”
Ollie’s own chest rises unevenly and he hesitates with an answer.
“I do.”
But that’s not what he says. Ollie would never imply that he’s capable of developing feelings such as love. That would be too much.
After a moment he steps forward and reaches for my hand. When I let him take it, he tugs me forward until I’m up against his chest. He leans down close to my face. “I’m sorry I got carried away, but sometimes I can’t help it…” His voice trails off as he
brushes his lips over mine. “I’ll try to control myself.”
I close my eyes for a second, replaying his words in my mind. I want to be caught up in this moment, to pull him closer—deeper—but I can’t. I lift a hand to his chest, pushing him back a few inches.
His lips are still slightly parted, waiting to assault me again with their firm softness. But that’s not even what gets me the most. It’s the throaty, low-pitched groans he makes while he’s kissing me. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but it’s the sexist sound I’ve ever heard.
I have to put a stop to this.
Ollie’s staring down at me, anxious. “What’s the problem?”
I sigh. “You can’t kiss me like that anymore.” I stand straighter, crossing my arms. “You can’t kiss me at all anymore. I have a boyfriend. It’s not right.”
He scoffs, making a lewd gesture with his fist. “Fuck that douchebag. He’s lucky I’m being so chill about it in the first place.”
Something like a growl bursts out of me and his eyes widen. I ball my fist at my side, anger searing through me. “You have no right to say things like that, if we aren’t anything to each other. I’m not your girlfriend, you don’t belong to me.”
He laughs, but it holds no humor. “So that’s what you think, huh?” He steps closer. “You think just because I don’t give you some title, that you don’t mean anything to me?” His head shakes firmly. “No. You don’t get to decide that.”
My heart’s beating faster and I’m watching his mouth as he speaks. I wait for him to finally admit what we are to each other and quit making me pretend I’m not in a relationship with someone that I love.
He doesn’t say that either.
His jaw ticks and he shifts the direction of the conversation entirely. “We made a promise that some bullshit relationship wouldn’t come between us. That ‘we’ came first.”
