Chapter 23 #2
I need to know when that happened so I can comfort him on the day he should celebrate, but he probably doesn’t anymore. “What day is your birthday?”
He huffs a sad laugh. “February twenty-ninth. At least I only have to be reminded by the date on my calendar every four years.”
“We should choose a new birthday for you.”
He smiles genuinely this time. “That’s what Misha does. He comes up with a random birthday for me every year. Last year, it was Halloween.”
“I love that,” I exclaim, and I really do. Especially the fact he has such amazing friends in his life. He really deserves them. “When are their birthdays?”
“Misha’s is May twenty-first, and Grey’s is November twenty-second. When is yours?”
I bite my lip, sheepishly looking up at him, ready for him to question why I hadn’t mentioned it sooner. “September sixth.”
“Seems like I owe you a birthday present,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a heart-stopping grin.
He’s so good-looking.
I glance at the watch on my wrist, a small jolt of reality snapping me back. “Fuck,” I murmur. “We should probably get back to work.”
Oliver checks his own watch, his expression mirroring my disappointment. “Probably,” he agrees, but his tone is laden with reluctance.
As we make our way back to my office, each step is slow and hesitant like neither of us is ready for this to end.
When we reach my office door, there’s a pause, a moment suspended in the space between wanting to stay and needing to leave.
Oliver takes a step closer. He seems to hesitate, his eyes searching mine for a moment, and I can almost see the hope flickering there.
It’s a sweet, vulnerable hope that makes my heart clench.
He leans in, and for a wild heartbeat, I wonder if he’ll kiss me. But instead, he presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, his lips warm against my skin. “I really enjoyed having coffee with you,” he whispers.
“Me, too,” I reply, my words barely audible. My skin tingles where his lips touched, a sweet echo that lingers pleasantly.
He steps back, his smile shy but with a hint of satisfaction, and then turns toward the elevator. I touch my cheek, the warmth of his kiss still imprinted there, and grin to myself as I turn to enter my office.
Hendricks is gone, and I’m alone in here, so I allow myself to sink into my chair, leaning back as a sigh escapes at the memory of Oliver’s gaze and the warmth of his kiss on my cheek. I’ve got this ridiculous crush on them—Oliver, Misha, Grey.
It’s absurd, really, how my heart manages to beat faster for all of them, and it should probably worry me more.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, I revel in its foolishness, in the secret thrill it brings to my former lonely and boring life.
It’s just a one-sided crush.
Nothing will come from it anyway. But then, there was the way Oliver looked at me. A small voice in my head whispers that I might be wrong about the one-sidedness of these feelings. And I don’t know if that possibility makes me happy or terrifies me.
The vibration of my phone on my thigh startles me back to reality. The caller ID alone is enough to spike my heartbeat—not with excitement, but with dread.
He never calls. He always writes.
Something must be wrong.
I answer with a tentative, “August?”
His voice comes through, shaky and almost crying. “Meelie, I-I’ve really messed up.”
“What’s happened?”
“I think… Abigail wants a divorce. She took the girls and left. I don’t know what to do. I feel so… lost. I fucked up big time,” he confesses, his voice breaking.
“What did you do? Did you cheat on her?” I ask, horror lacing my tone.
They were so in love.
“No, nothing like that. I just… fuck, Meelie, I need you.” He breaks out into sobs, and my blood freezes.
I’ve never heard my brother cry.
Stanleys don’t cry.
My heart clenches for him. “I’m here, Auggie. I just need to finish up a project at work, but that’s wrapping up in two weeks. I can put in for my vacation then and fly out to you. Can you hold on until then?”
“You would do that?” His voice is thick with gratitude and something like relief.
“Of course. I’ll come earlier if it’s somehow possible. And you can call me whenever you need to. Why didn’t you before?”
“I was ashamed,” he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I let Father push me around too much. I think that’s a big reason why this is happening.”
Before I can respond, the door opens, and Hendricks steps back into the office, his presence slicing through our conversation. “I can’t talk right now. But can we talk some more later? I can call you tonight, 11 p.m., that should be your 7 a.m.”
“I can’t. I have to get to work early. But it’s fine, just come in two weeks, please? Just knowing you’ll come will help a lot.”
“There’s nothing that could keep me from it,” I assure him.
August has always been there for me. It’s time to return the favor, even if the thought of potentially encountering my parents through this visit twists my stomach into knots.
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, my mind racing. There has to be a way to support him without the inevitable confrontation with them. As I turn back to my computer, the screen’s glow doesn’t hold the answers I seek, but I know I’ll find a way.
For August, I’d navigate any storm—even if it means steering close to the rocks I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
The Rubik’s cube in my hand is just sitting there, forgotten.
I’m lounging with Misha and Grey in our home office, watching Amelia through the monitors, which increasingly feels like a guilty pleasure, especially after what happened earlier today.
My lips had brushed her perfect skin, and I can’t seem to get her lavender scent out of my nostrils—not that I want to.
Misha and Grey have been ribbing me for hours after they saw how I kissed Amelia on the cheek through Elysium’s security feeds. They’re curious about everything we talked about, visibly irked that they couldn’t catch the conversation. I already suspected they were watching us in the cafeteria too.
It feels shitty to be watched like that, and the guilt of watching her now weighs more heavily on me. But not enough to curb my, or rather our obsession.
“You’re such a gentleman, Ollie,” Misha teases, his voice dripping with mock admiration. “I don’t think I would have gone for the cheek.”
“You know I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I want our first kiss to be special, at the right moment, not in a hallway at Elysium.”
Funnily enough, her asking me out and our date somehow gave me the confidence to truly believe she would be my first kiss. The question now is only when and where.
Misha’s grin broadens as he leans over to pinch my cheek. “God, look at you being cute.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, pushing him, and he almost topples back in his chair, laughing.
Grey, however, seems less amused. He smiles, but it’s a tight, forced expression. “Just make sure your right moment isn’t too late,” he says, his voice tinged with something I can’t quite place.
An unease stirs in me at his tone.
What is he implying?
We turn our attention back to the feed. Amelia is sitting on her couch, a bowl of ice cream in hand. Grey frowns at the screen. “Ice cream for dinner? Really, Princess?”
I don’t like that he has a nickname for her, but she seems to enjoy it, so I have to deal with it and maybe think of my own nickname for her.
Amelia puts the bowl aside and speaks to Jamie, “Can you keep a secret for me?”
“Of course, Amelia. What secret?”
Fuck, should we really listen to this?
“I’m working on a project no one knows about, and I’d love for it to stay that way, so I’d be glad if you didn’t share this with anyone.”
“For you, I can be the void, Amelia,” Jamie agrees.
We exchange glances, Grey’s brows deeply furrowed. “What project? Did she say anything about it today?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Haven’t talked with her about her own work yet.”
Why didn’t we do that?
Amelia starts typing on her laptop, and a new underlying tab catches my eye on my second screen that mirrors what is on hers—a tab that had been hidden from me before. My heart races as I lean in closer, squinting at the vast algorithm.
“What is that?” Misha murmurs next to me.
“I have no idea, but it’s… wow,” I whisper, my eyes darting across the complex code.
Amelia stands and puts her laptop away before she pushes a button on the side of her glasses I hadn’t noticed before, and the atmosphere in the room shifts.
The ultra-red sensors in her apartment go crazy on my screen as she flips her hand and sits back down.
She moves like she’s controlling a panel as if she’s using AR, but there’s no lens whatsoever, just her glasses.
“Is she doing what I think she is?” Grey asks, his voice laced with astonishment.
Amelia starts typing on air, and I can’t help but laugh, a mix of amazement and pride swelling inside me. “Oh my God, she’s a fucking genius.”
I knew she was smart, but this is… outstanding.
“She has AR at home that works with her glasses? How? And why isn’t that breaking news at Elysium?” Misha’s voice is full of awe.
“Because she’s hiding it,” Grey says, his voice low and serious.
“But why?” I murmur, more to myself than to them.
We watch in silence as Amelia continues her work, her fingers moving through the air with practiced ease and a grace that reminds me of her playing the piano.
The implications of her invention, the fact that she’s keeping it a secret—it all whirls through my mind.
Why would you hide such brilliance, Amelia?