I tried to talk to Oliver about this yesterday, but as usual, he just waved his hand and told me not to worry about it. He doesn’t care about his reputation in Gargle.
“So do you think Oliver is going to be all right? You know, with the whole fight?” asks Dora once we walk back to our apartment.
Oliver and Jacob have their rugby practise so they were in a hurry to the stadium. He knows he can’t play at least for another four weeks, but he’s happy to sit on the bench and watch what’s happening on the field.
“You know Bryan. Do you think he’ll ever let it go?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders.
“Not sure. Maybe Oliver was lucky. Bryan’s mother would do anything to avoid such a scandal.”
“I guess so, but I’m still worried this might bite him back when he least expects it. Oliver lost his temper. He wanted to show Bryan that he isn’t weak like he used to be.”
Dora nods. She understands what I’m talking about, but I know Oliver beat up Bryan because of what he said. I hate he had to find out I slept with Bryan like that. We weren’t even together then, but I feel like I owe him an explanation now.
That unusual feeling settles in my stomach later that night. Oliver isn’t with me; he’s catching up on his coursework, and I stare at the letters, wondering if I can wait any longer.
Present
The next couple of weeks move way too quickly for me to comprehend what’s going on with Oliver. He hasn’t been staying at my place most days, ands he seems absent, lost in his own world. Our relationship hasn’t moved anywhere. We still haven’t brought up the past and my letters are hidden in the drawer. He says he is not affected by his father’s death, but deep down he’s going through emotional turmoil, like he’s hiding his true self.
Days pass by and slowly Oliver comes back to me, emerging from what seems to be grief and pain. After an exhausting week at uni, he asks me to accompany him to the hospital for his checkup. Shortly after that, the doctor gives him a clear pass and Oliver can go back to his beloved rugby.
When he starts playing again, I notice a small change. He starts being more like his old self, before our short trip to Gargle. It’s a slow process, but we are getting back on track.
He starts joking around and we go out more often. During one evening after my rowing training, we go out for coffee. Oliver hasn’t talked about our trip to Gargle for a while, but today, for the first time, I can see he is in a good mood. Maybe he has finally forgotten about the past.
“Did you bring me here to have a serious conversation?” he asks, passing me a mug of mocha. I have been thinking about this talk about the past for a while, and I don’t know if I’m ready, but I want to try.
“Yes, I feel like we haven’t talked for ages. You know, after the funeral you were kind of distant,” I say, smiling. “Don’t you think we should talk about the past? I’m sure you have questions.”
Oliver looks at me intensely. “No, India, I don’t have any questions. What happened in the past doesn’t matter. Today, now, it’s about you and me,” he says, taking my hand and staring into my eyes, melting the doubts I’ve had since we came back.
“I think you’re taking a big gamble here. Our past is important. I hurt you, but you’ve still forgiven me. If you want to move on, you need to do the same with your mother.”
Oliver frowns and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Our relationship has nothing to do with her. I want to take you out for dinner this weekend,” he exclaims unexpectedly. “We went through a lot. Let’s celebrate.”
Butterflies wake up in my stomach and my mind starts functioning again.
“Why this weekend? If you have something to tell me, then you shouldn’t wait.” I tease him. My heart beats fast. We haven’t had a chance to talk about what we have between us. I’ve wanted to tell him that I love him since that day he revealed that he broke up with Rhian, but I was scared it was all too fast.
“I want this to be special. We’ve waited long enough and we aren’t teenagers anymore, India. I desperately want to make love to you,” he whispers, leaning to kiss me deeply. My pulse starts racing and blissful joy embraces my heart.
Then we talk about everything and anything. For the first time, we’re open about our expectations. An hour later, I’m back on campus, rushing to my next class.
When I finally get home, it’s late. I had another late visit in the library, trying to finish my final assignment for criminal law. My apartment seems deserted and I’m not expecting anyone in, so when I see Oliver in the kitchen, my jaw drops. We both agreed to stay away from each other until our date night, so I’m surprised he hasn’t stuck to that plan.
“Let me guess, you couldn’t stay away?” I ask, amused at seeing him trying to make something in our kitchen.
“Well, I thought about it, and when Dora said she was going out with Jacob for a drink, I couldn’t stand the fact that you were all alone today,” he says as his eyes flash with mischief. “And I decided to show up without a formal invitation.”
He approaches me and I feel like all of a sudden I’m not annoyed he’s here. I’m glad we can spend the evening together.
Oliver wraps his palms around my waist, smiling, before he leans in and whispers, “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
The heat from his touch is too much for me to bear, and I’m afraid he will say how he feels. I had this whole conversation planned out while I was in the library. My thoughts trail back to my drawer and those three letters I wanted to send. Panicking that he will finally say how he feels about me, I kiss him, hoping for a moment of distraction.
Our breath moves with the rhythm of our hearts, and Oliver takes the initiative, not surprised at all with my outburst of passion.
“Okay, fuck this weekend. I can’t wait any longer,” he growls, taking off my jacket. I laugh, unable to hold back how much I want him. He breaks the kiss and lifts me. “Bedroom!”
He bursts through the door and drops me down to the bed. The fire in his eyes blazes through my entire body. My mind starts racing, but I shut down the silly voices in my head, knowing we both have been holding back too long.
When his chest is bare, he takes my hand and lifts me to him. His gaze hovers over my body and tiny goose pimples shoot up over my arms. My heart rate picks up when he starts unbuttoning my sweater.
“So beautiful and only mine,” he says, kissing me with so much passion that I’m melting away in his arms.
His hands move down, exploring my body.
We’re on my bed again and he’s on top of me, trailing kisses down my shoulder. I let go of a soft moan when he tastes my hardened nipples, sending shivers down between my legs.
It’s not like I’m inexperienced and let him take control, but I’m savouring the moment, blocking all my memories from the past. Christian never touched me like that. He liked violence. He had to be in control, even though I was suffering.
Oliver slips my jeans off and when I lift myself, his head is between my legs. A wide, whacky grin breaks over his face and our eyes meet.
“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?”
He doesn’t let me respond, starting to massage my hot spot. The pulsing sensation between my legs keeps growing, and I cry out, forgetting he asked me a question. Soon his hand moves over the line of my panties and his fingers start making long circling motions.
Then the silence is broken by the shutting door, and we both hear voices that belong to Dora and Jacob.
“Just ignore them,” I hiss, knowing this isn’t happening for real. My best friend hasn’t just ruined my first makeup sex with Oliver.
His blue eyes stay on my breasts. My cheeks are flushed and I desperately want him to touch me again.
“It looks like they’re staying,” mutters Oliver. He’s right. I can hear the TV, and then before I can protest, he gets up and starts putting on his T-shirt. We leave the bedroom shorty after that, and Dora gives me a questionable smirk. Oliver looks pissed off with Ja
cob’s change of plans, but we stay in, trying to dismiss the tension that only keeps growing between us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fake It… Fake It Until You Make It
Present
I run my fingers over the edges of the letters and take a deep, steady breath. I don't know if I’m ready to go through with this. I should feel relief that I can finally get rid of that secret, but the truth is I’m petrified.
Oliver might hate me for this. He might not get why it took me over two years to tell him the truth. He’s making plans for Saturday night and our relationship has grown so much. I know he hasn’t stopped loving me because I feel the same way. He’s planning to tell me all this during dinner. The past is behind us and we’re ready to move on.
I squeeze the letters tightly and shove them into my bag. Oliver should know the truth by Tuesday.
There is never a right moment to share your worst nightmare with the love of your life, but I can’t keep this away from him any longer. He has truly forgiven now, and after he reads the letters, he should be able to forget about my cruelty.
The walk to the post office is short, but before I push the letters into the post box, I stand there wondering yet again if I’m ready for what’s next. My mind starts racing, going through a number of different scenarios, but I don’t want to keep doing this to myself. It’s time to finally put that nightmare behind me. It’s time to be happy, so I push the letters through the tiny space. Now there is no turning back.
I never imagined I would be doing this. After Oliver left Gargle, I could barley function. I felt like my life was over, and although that monster was dead, I didn’t see the point of being alive. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror because every time, I remembered his wild eyes and that stick. It took me over a year to pull myself together, to have the desire to live again.
When I arrived in Braxton, I thought the past was behind me and I could just move on. It turns out we never know what kind of surprises life can unfold before us. I never expected to see Oliver again, but there he was, waiting for that moment since I turned my back on him.
When Saturday night rolls in, I feel like I can finally breathe. The heavy secret that has been around me for years is gone. Christian soon won’t matter. Nothing stands between our happiness.
“So have you decided what you’re going to wear?” asks Dora, leaning on the frame of my door, watching me carefully.
“My red dress, the one you like,” I reply, finishing my eye shadow. She grins, knowing how special this dinner is for both of us. Jacob is staying in my apartment with Dora so we have Oliver’s room to ourselves. If anyone would have told me a year ago that I would be this excited about sex with Oliver Morgan, I don’t think I’d have believed it.
“So this is it? The end of the probation period for both of you?”
“Yeah, next… well, there won’t be many secrets between us,” I say, knowing I have to mention Christian at some point during dinner. Oliver should know I sent him letters.
“I’m assuming you’re going to tell him about Christian?”
Dora can read me so well.
“Yes, I think it’s time. I don’t need to pretend anymore. We’re together and even Christian won’t tear us apart.”
“It’s nice to see you happy for a change.”
“Yeah, it’s odd. I’m always the one that keeps encouraging you.”
Dora laughs and then tells me not to hold anything back and to enjoy the evening. I finish my makeup, put on my dress, and look at myself in the mirror. Tonight it’s all about us, and that comfortable joy settles back in my stomach.
“You look hot!” announces Dora when I emerge from my room. Oliver is already in the living room. When his eyes rest on my body, I flush. He drinks me in for several more moments and all of a sudden, the desire builds up.
“Stunning, she looks stunning,” says Oliver after the moment that feels like eternity.
“Did you make a reservation or are we playing lucky today?”
He frowns. “Yeah, of course I made a reservation, Indi,” he adds, opening the door for me. I giggle as he sits next to me.
The restaurant Oliver has chosen is small but set in that quirky, old-school style. Besides, Dora told me earlier that Flamenco was one of the best and most expensive restaurants in Braxton.
“Table for two, reserved for Morgan,” says Oliver to a very tall blond woman. It’s nearly eight o’clock and this place looks packed, mainly with couples.
“Of course. Let me show you,” says the waitress.
Our table is perfect, right by the window. Oliver thought about everything. Once we’re sitting and the waiter takes our drink order, I can finally look at him without any uncertainties.
“You made an effort, so thank you. I wasn’t expecting this to be so special.” I chuckle. His blue eyes focus on me, and something flickers in them, but before I try to guess what he’s thinking, it’s long gone.
“I want everything to be perfect this evening,” he says, reaching for my hand.
“It will be. This is kind of a new beginning for us.” I laugh.
“You’re right. I never thought it would come to this, especially after the funeral.” He sighs.
I want to say I thought that too, because he had closed himself down on me and I couldn’t reach him.
The waiter comes back and I pick my food. Everything looks so expensive, but tonight I’m not worrying, as it’s all too perfect to be true.
We talk through dinner, enjoying each other’s company. My mind spins out of control when Oliver keeps to his usual topics, like he wants to instantly avoid any awkward moments between us.
An hour passes and with the second glass of wine, I begin to feel even more relaxed and so happy. Oliver is slightly flushed, but he hardly touched any alcohol. His blue eyes scan the space. The alcohol gives me some encouragement to keep talking.
“It’s an evening of closure, Oliver, so I guess we can’t avoid talking about the past,” I say, taking a more serious tone.
Oliver sits up, folding his arms together, like he’s been waiting for this, for me to approach the subject we both wanted to avoid.
“I wasn’t planning to bring this up. I know you probably couldn’t quite deal with Christian’s death. You felt guilty that we talked about us behind his back,” he states with a slight tension in his voice, studying me carefully.
My thoughts trail back to that evening, but I dismiss the bad memories. It’s clear that Oliver is trying to explain my behaviour, bring some reasoning to what I put him through.
“It wasn’t just that,” I tell him, my voice shaking a little. “Do you remember the party, that night when we were both supposed to talk to him?”
Oliver’s eyes are difficult to read now, dark. He takes a sip of his wine.
“You don’t even have to ask. I remember everything, although I didn’t make it. After the funeral, I wanted to talk to you, to explain—” He pauses like he’s afraid to say more. We both know I didn’t let him explain back then why he didn’t show up.
“It’s all right. I get it. I was too caught up with myself, and I shut down.”
“Yeah, and I kept watching you. I was trying to talk to you, but you kept pushing me away. I kept telling myself I could wait until you came around.”
“I’m sorry. I know you already forgave me for what I did to you back in high school,” I say with desperation in my voice. “Something happened at that party… I mean, something happened between Christian and me. I didn’t see it coming.”
His face goes pale, but he doesn’t interrupt. Instead, he encourages me to continue.
“You will get my letters soon. Then you’ll get it. I don’t want to ruin this evening. You have forgiven me, and that’s the most important, right?”
Long silence stretches between us and he looks like he wants to ask me about the letters, but he doesn’t.
“My mother is fond of you. She always has been. She said something that stuck wi
th me,” he says unexpectedly, looking away, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Let me guess… We look good together?”
He shakes his head. “No, she said you and Christian were different, but he was possessive. He didn’t want to let go of you.”
“What has that to do with us?”
“Then she said you couldn’t let go of him because of the night at the party, but you slowly are. Now it’s my turn. She said it’s my responsibility to make you happy.”
I laugh, feeling slightly overwhelmed with the news. The tiny voice in my head tells me I should carry on talking, reveal that Christian never made me happy. It was always Oliver. I have to tell him about the rape and Christian’s abuse. Instead, I say something completely different.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since the moment I saw you at school with Christian. My love never faded. I hoped that one day you would understand what I did and you would forgive me,” I say, feeling peaceful and lost in those blue eyes. I finally let go of my demons. “I don’t care about what you did when I first came to Braxton. You were angry and I get it. It was the same for me after the funeral.”
Oliver looks at me. He is hiding his emotions like he used to when I put him through the months of abuse. He leans towards me, his eyes shimmering in the dim light, and takes my palms. The silence stretches between us for a minute, and I wait for him to say he loves me too. There is nothing else that can keep us apart.
“I love you too,” he says, smiling. Then he grabs his glass of wine and drinks straight through, never cutting eye contact. My heart falters in my chest. “India, oh, India, don’t you think this is a bit absurd?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, laughing.
“I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but this whole love thing is a bit silly. I don’t actually love you. I invited you here tonight to break up with you.”
I stare at him blankly and burst out laughing. Oliver likes joking. He can’t possibly believe he can prank me like this.
Love & Hate Series Box Set (Love & Hate #1-2) Page 24
