“And if what happened yesterday is meant to happen again, then let it.”
I am going to kill Kylie…
“Stop worrying about the what ifs.”
“I make stupid decisions when I don’t think things through, Stephan. Case in point: yesterday’s lack of judgement.”
“Just go on the date, Abby.”
“But he’s leaving tomorrow,” I complained.
“I know.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to go out with him and have fun.”
“I can’t—”
“You can, and you will.”
“What if I break again?”
“You won’t. You’re going to figure this out. I promise. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“You seem pretty confident.”
“I am confident. Now go get ready. Later, Abs.”
“Hey Stephan?” I asked just before hanging up.
“What?”
“Love ya.”
“I love you, too.”
Six o’clock came fast enough after my phone conversation. When I heard the front door open, I stuffed the remainder of the tornado I had on the floor into my closet.
“Abby?”
“Up here.”
“Ever heard of locking your doors?” he shouted from downstairs.
“I have,” I responded coming down the steps. “Everyone makes a point of reminding me when they walk in, without knocking.”
“I knocked. You just didn’t hear me.” Which was probably accurate. “Maybe you should start listening to—”
I rounded the corner and faced him.
“For fuck’s sake, Abby, you’re making it pretty hard for me not to take you up to your room right now—”
I raised my eyebrow inquiringly and laughed at the longing expression on his face. I won’t lie: it was exactly the reaction I was looking for.
“You can’t. You promised me a date, Mr. Langton. Remember?”
He let out a low groan as I picked my purse up from off the floor.
“You. Out. Now.”
Oliver
I thought stepping inside my old house would have been tough, but it wasn’t. In six years it had barely changed. The paint and decorations reflected Abby’s personality and I think that’s the exact reason why the transition wasn’t as hard as I had anticipated it to be. When I opened the door and walked inside, it felt exactly like it was supposed to be—it felt like home.
“Okay so quick question,” I asked as she locked up. “Why did you just come from upstairs.”
“Why wouldn’t I?
“Because the master bedroom is on the ground floor.”
“Oh yeah, that.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I tried it in the first few weeks I moved in, and it felt weird, so I just moved my stuff upstairs in your old room.”
I wasn’t going to reply with anything, but her admission made me smile. I took her hand and escorted her to the passenger seat of her own car. The stiletto heels of her tight black boots were driving me insane.
“Okay,” I asked taking my seat behind the wheel. “Inquiring mind here. How many of those boots do you even own?”
“Honestly? I lost count after too many. It’s a bad habit.”
“I disagree,” I mumbled.
Her face lit up at my admission, but she held back on the lecherous remark I expected her to spit out. “So, Mr. Langton, where are you taking me?”
“The Next Generation. Apparently it’s your favorite.”
“Oh. I’m impressed,” she teased. “Someone did his homework today.”
I chuckled.
···
“I want to play twenty questions,” Abby said, interrupting the comfortable silence as we sat in the restaurant. Had someone told me I would be having dinner with Abbygail Evens two months ago, I would have laughed in their face.
And I want to talk about last night, but whatever…
“Fine, we’ll play, but we can add hypotheticals.”
She rolled her eyes at me. It was a game we used to play late at night when we were younger. Adding hypothetical questions made us argue over stupid things, and when we were really into it, we could make it last through the night.
“One.”
“One what?”
“You can speculate on one question only.”
“God, you suck,” I complained.
“I do. And apparently, I do it pretty well, too.”
I groaned and wondered when Abby’s mind had gotten so perverted. Not that I didn’t enjoy it… it was just with what happened between us the previous night, it was getting harder for me to control my urges.
“You can ask me how well if you want,” she suggested. “Make it your first question.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
She licked her lips and smiled. “Suit yourself.”
Ugh, she’s going to kill me…
“So I start: favorite meal?”
“That’s a pretty lame question, Abby,” I criticized.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in six years, Oliver, so I’m entitled to ask whatever I want. Capisce?”
I grinned. She was adorable. “Rib eye steak,” I answered. “You?”
“Peri-Peri chicken. Is your favorite desert still Lava Cake?”
“Most definitely. You?”
“This is going to sound super weird, but I’m going to have to say root beer Slush.”
“The only weird thing about your answer is that you’ve deprived yourself from having any for six years. I still intend on changing that after dinner by the way.”
“Oliver, it’s like minus a hundred degrees outside.”
“You’re over exaggerating. Besides, I don’t care. You shouldn’t deny yourself something you love like that for six years. It’s inhuman.”
She chuckled, and as I read into the under-meaning of my precipitated statement, I realized why. Even I couldn’t help myself from smirking.
“Favorite T.V. show?”
“Really?” I asked, annoyed.
She nodded.
“Don’t have one,” I answered.
“How can you not have a favorite T.V. show?”
I shrugged. “I rather play video games.”
“Typical. Have you ever watched Game of Thrones?”
I shook my head.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. And it’s a good thing we’re not actually counting questions because you have to be down at least ten.”
“I’m up to eight. Oh, and next time we see each other, I’m making you watch the series with me.” She paused smugly. “So, go ahead, wise ass. You don’t like my questions. It’s your turn.”
Finally.
“Why aren’t you on social media?”
“How do you know I’m not? Stalk much?”
“Can’t stalk those you can’t find, beautiful.” I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow. “So?”
“I think social media is overrated. People put too much of their personal lives on there, and it drives me crazy. Besides, I already told you this. I don’t confide in people who aren’t my friends. Anyone important to me is right in here.” She points her phone.
“But what if someone you haven’t seen in a long time wanted to see how you’re doing?”
She clicked her tongue and raised her eyebrow. “Then that person should have picked up a Goddamn phone, and called.”
Touché!
She piqued my curiosity though, so I took her phone away from her and scrolled through her numbers. I was surprised she actually let me. My smile grew wide. “You have my number in here.”
She nodded. “I added it yesterday morning.”
“I meant my home phone number.”
I realized that she forgot about that small detail when her eyes averted to her glass of water.
“It’s always been there,” she admitted. She took her phone out of my hands and placed it beside her silverware.
“Did you ever call?”
Her eyes fell. There was something about her reaction that made me curious. I had to ask.
“You can’t lie, Abby, it’s the rule.”
“Yes,” she replied looking back up to me. “I did call. Twice. And both times I hung up on you. I’m using my out now, so you can’t ask me about this anymore.”
Shame, I would have loved to know when and especially why you called.
Abbygail
Oliver and I decided on sharing several tasting platters. I was surprised at first when he told me he was bringing us here, but then thought about the two guys that have been in my life for the past several years and was reminded as to how predictable Stephan and Tyler insisted I was.
“So speaking of social media, I checked out that Laney girl you told me about—”
“And you accuse me of stalking?” he mocked. “Before you ask, she and I never dated. I told the lie because I was pissed off at you. Laney was my first friend when we moved to BC. She reminded me of you, but after a few months, I realized how completely different you both are.”
Is that supposed to be a good or bad thing?
“So, quick question. How could you have seen her profile if you don’t have your own account?”
“I hacked Stephan’s,” I admitted. “So what’s the name of your last girlfriend, then?”
He looked at me sternly. “I don’t have girlfriends. I date.”
“Fine. What was the name of the last girl you dated then?”
“Sam. And why would you even ask me that?” he grimaced.
“I don’t know. Curious I guess. So you’ve never been in a relationship at all?”
He hesitated. “Once, in University. Her name was Charlie, and we lasted six months.”
“Why did you break up?”
“I didn’t love her.”
“If you weren’t in love with Charlie, why did you continue to be in a relationship with her?”
“Oh, I don’t know Abby,” he bit back. “Maybe for the same reason you dated Tyler.”
Okay, where the hell did that come from?
“I care about Tyler,” I argued.
“And I cared about Charlie.”
Ugh, this is going nowhere… and how has this even turned into an argument all of a sudden?
“Okay then.” I frowned. “I’ve got another one. Why don’t you do the whole relationship thing?”
“That’s easy. Because girls are pains in the ass that always want more than what you’re willing to offer. Relationships are too complicated to deal with, especially when even though you try your hardest to forget about her, your mind still wanders off to the only girl you’ve ever really loved. And before you ask anything more about this, I’m using my out for your next question.”
I huffed.
We received our meals about a half an hour after being seated, which gave us plenty of time to ask each other about everything. The whole experience made me realize how we’re both still very much alike and how we’ve barely changed over the years.
“Wow, this looks amazing,” Oliver remarked as the waitress put our plates on the table.
“I know right. I always love coming here. The prices are pretty high, but honestly, it’s the best food I’ve ever tasted.”
Oliver watched me with a heartwarming smile.
“What?” I asked.
He took his fork up to his mouth. “Just enjoying the company. That’s all.”
Those lips… I wish I could be that fork right now…
“Okay, hypothetical question,” Oliver said in the middle of our devouring our platter. “If you could turn back time and go see anyone in your past, whom would you go see?”
I finished my mouthful thinking about my answer. “Um, not sure. Can I go see two people?”
He shrugged. “It’s hypothetical Abby. You can do whatever you want.”
“Okay then. The first person would be your dad and then, myself.”
He looked up from the plate creasing his eyes. “What would you tell my dad?”
“I’d tell him how much I love him and thank him for being a part of my life.”
I saw the glint in his eye after my confession. “What would you tell yourself?”
Crap.
“Um…” I regretted not thinking it through before naming myself. Obviously, there would be more to his simple question.
I exhaled and settled my fork on the table and got lost in my memories. As I reminded myself of the past few years, I thought about all my screw ups, the destroyed teen that craved attention, and the newfound adult that constantly searched for companionship. I thought about the nights I didn’t remember and all the guys I had let touch me.
“Abby?” Oliver brought me back to the restaurant. I started to wonder how long I was lost in my own head but got caught off guard by Oliver’s worried eyes. He reached out for my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I blinked away my tears.
I am such a screw up.
“Where did you go?”
I shook my head, indicating that I wasn’t ready to talk about it. He wanted to push it, but my pleading eyes made him understand that I just couldn’t go there. Not yet anyway.
Thankfully, Oliver backed down, and I answered his previous question.
“I’d go back to her, take her head in my hands, and tell her: you’ll be fine—he’ll come back.”
He smiled, seeming somewhat pleased with my answer.
“How about you? Whom would you go back to?”
He smirked.
“What?”
“Have you ever realized how alike we are?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “The thought has somewhat come to mind a few times.”
“I’d go see my dad too. I’d give him the biggest hug ever and tell him how much I love him and then tell him he was right about you and me.” He chuckled at my clueless face. “Then, I’d climb up your bedroom window, admit to you that your ass in that lacy thong was fucking hot. Carry your school stuff no matter how much you scolded me. Take the empty bus seat beside Kylie’s, force you to sit with me, take a bite of your banana muffin that I still can’t believe you chucked out the window, and kiss your cheek.”
I observed him, stunned. “Wow. Okay. You have this all figured out almost as if it was rehearsed.”
“I loved you, Abby.” He paused, gauging my reaction. “The other night, you asked me why I kissed you. Both times, when I kissed you, it was because I was in love with you.”
My brows furrowed, and I stared at my plate. This conversation had veered so far from where I expected it to go. The thought of him being in love with me six years ago was another slash of pain life had decided to inflict to my heart. Too little, too late, I thought to myself. I exhaled, trying to keep whatever I was feeling in check.
“Abby?” Oliver demanded. I looked back into his mysterious eyes, “No regrets, okay?”
Yeah, right…
“Is that your motto or something?”
He raised his shoulders. “I guess. I think it is better to regret something you chose to do, rather than to regret not doing it at all.”
“Do you regret leaving Carrington?”
“Sometimes…”
“But?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Abby. I mean, I know I hurt you when I left, but I just can’t seem to regret leaving because my life in B.C. wasn’t really all that bad. Don’t get me wrong, I longed for you. I missed Stephan, your mom, and our friends obviously, but when I left, it was for myself. So no, I don’t regret leaving.”
It meant a lot that Oliver felt comfortable enough with me to tell me exactly what was on his mind, but what he admitted stung.
“Let me ask you this. Had I stayed, do you think we would be here eating dinner together today?”
“You already asked your hypothetical question.” I retorted.
He crossed his arms. “Just answer the question, Abby.”
“How the hell sho
uld I know?”
“Think about it. Let’s just presume I stayed. Do you truly believe the friendship we had would have remained the same?”
I raised my shoulders not knowing how to answer. “I’d like to think so… but you seem to think otherwise.”
“I think that eventually we would have given into the feelings we had for each other.”
I still had trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that he used to be in love with me. The fact that he was degrading our hypothetical love story didn’t sit well with me.
“Jeez, Oliver, you’re acting like you think it would have been the most horrible idea on the planet.”
“I’m not saying that it would have been horrible, Abbygail. But I was lost when my dad died. And I know myself well enough to know that eventually I would have dragged you down into my sorrows and used you in any way possible to get over my grief. Then, I either would have moved on to what I thought would have been the next best thing, or you would have left me realizing that you deserved more than what I had to offer—either way, doomed.”
The idea that he thought so little of himself or us pained me. I knew Oliver: I knew he wouldn’t have hurt me that way, but then again maybe he was right. Maybe he was so lost that he wouldn’t have cared. Who knew? But right then, the thought of him drowning his sorrows with any other girl made me extremely jealous. “Maybe. But if I follow your line of thinking, wouldn’t it have been better to regret being in a relationship with me rather than having never tried at all?”
“Our friendship would have been ruined,” he argued.
“No offense, Oliver, but our relationship was ruined regardless.” I crossed my arms over my chest, imitating his stance. “I’m not going to lie, the pain when you left… it was unbearable. But you fucked up when you told me to never write to you again. So honestly, I don’t see your point.”
We remained silent, and stared at each other until I couldn’t maintain his gaze anymore. I wasn’t even sure if I was frustrated with his analogy or just pissed off at how Henry’s destiny fucked up my life. The silence between us was unsettling, and I knew Oliver felt the same as soon as his fork hit his plate loudly.
“So basically, you would have preferred my staying and ruining our friendship with a doomed relationship? We were kids, Abby. Nothing good can come out of a teenage boy’s raging hormones combined with drugs and him grieving the loss of his dad.”
Living with Regrets (No Regrets book 2) Page 13
