Chapter Five
Matt
After finishing a surprisingly chaotic shift, all I want to do is lie down on the first flat surface in my apartment, cushioning optional. So, when I hear a knock, just as I’m done changing into my sweats, I almost ignore it.
But the smell of sunshine, roses, and …cupcakes? wafting from the door carries my legs in the opposite direction from my bed. The decision not to put on a T-shirt might have been a little more intentional.
Oliver smiles when I open the door. When he notices my lack of clothing, his mouth goes slack, and his breath falters. The intensity of his gaze makes my chest flutter with excitement. Why did he have to be so goddamn perfect?
Suddenly, as if realizing he wasn’t being subtle at all, his eyes snap up to mine.
I grin, pleased by his widened doe eyes, reddening face, and slightly heavy breathing. He’s wearing a blue, “My Superpower Is Turning Caffeine Into Words” T-shirt and fitting, black joggers that I know all too well. They’ve made me lose focus a couple of times.
But the dark circles under his eyes make me stop.
“I baked you cupcakes.” He pushes a plate of cupcakes into my chest.
I take it before it hits me right in the pecs. I look at the perfectly iced cupcakes.
“You like baking!” I say, finally discovering why he sometimes smells like burnt sugar, vanilla, and chocolate. It wasn’t just my mind playing games because he always looks edible.
He tilts his head. “Yeah, it helps me think,” he admits, his voice low like he’s confessing something he didn’t want to say out loud.
I smile to reassure him. “Wanna come in?”
I’m opening the door wider before my mind can catch up. Sleep is a distant thought now. I have a cute, blushing human to scandalize.
“You're up early today,” I comment as he enters.
He seems distracted, like he didn't even hear me. His eyes follow my every move. Then I remember I’m naked from the waist up.
“I'll be right back,” I announce, almost sure he didn't hear me.
He determinedly looks at his cupcakes on the counter while I slowly return to my bedroom. How far below that neckline does his blush go? Everything in my body craves to find out. I shake those thoughts away and put on a T-shirt I just dumped in the laundry.
“You've had coffee?” I ask, walking out of the room.
Oliver seems to have gotten his senses under control. He smiles up at me. “I did, but I wouldn't mind another cup.”
Well, I definitely need one to avoid falling asleep right on his lap. Wouldn’t say no if he offered, though.
I put on the coffee and lean back on the counter, watching him fidget on the couch. He can't sit still for even a minute. How does he write for such long hours?
“You didn't answer me. Why are you up and about so early?”
I've rarely seen or heard Oliver this perky in the morning. And no, I don't stand outside his apartment with my ear pressed to the door. The guy’s just loud, and my ears are inhumanly sharp.
“Just didn’t sleep that well and woke up early. One of those days, really,” he says. “You just got back from your shift?”
“Yup.” I pour coffee into two mugs and sit beside him, maintaining a little distance.
“Shit, you must be really tired.”
“Not anymore, I’m not,” I confess.
“Umm, right. So, I went to talk to one of our neighbors yesterday.”
I tilt my head in confusion at the sudden change of topic. “You did?”
He nods. “The guy on the eighth floor.”
I groan internally. Of course, he did. How could I be so stupid as to believe Oliver would give up on finding out more about what he saw?
Especially after I bragged to Nick that I have everything under control!
My sweet little human is too curious for his own good.
Yes, at least within the confines of my head, he’s my human.
“What did you guys talk about?” I ask casually, taking a sip of my coffee. I need it, and maybe a thousand more, to get through this conversation.
“He brought up the guy from 8D after he was done checking me out. But then he decided the football match was more interesting,” he rolls his eyes.
He did what now? “The guy in 8A?” I ask.
“Yeah, you know him?” He narrows his eyes.
“Might’ve seen him around.” Might give him a visit soon, too.
“Oh, right,” he says, looking everywhere but me.
“So this guy …you were flirting with him for information?” I ask. I don't know if I’m hoping for him to say yes or no.
“What? No, Matt, I don’t flirt with people for information. I’m not a Bond Girl,” he huffs, giving me a glimpse of the Oliver I run into in the hallway every few days.
He’s too adorable with his pouty lips and squinty eyes. Ah, I missed him!
“I just mentioned Dalton, and he didn’t say anything new. Just stuff I already know,” he continues, looking at his coffee mug.
Oh, right, I have work to do. “Like what?”
“That he was a creepy dude who didn't talk to anyone.” He sounds defeated. Then he turns to me. “Look, maybe your theory about him being on drugs was right. But I just have to know, okay?”
He looks at me like he desperately wants me to understand him. He’s confused, scared. Maybe he doesn’t even believe what he saw anymore. But he’s not going to give up. Discouraging Oliver won't be as easy as I initially thought.
Staring into his beautiful, tired eyes, I want to confess everything. So, I nod, helpless against his liquid blue gaze and pleading face.
“I’m probably going to talk to some more people and see what I can find. Maybe they saw something too, and then I’ll know for sure my mind isn’t making things up.” His eyes are trained on me, begging me to support him.
I can’t even come up with a good lie. Ugh, what did Nick get me involved in? Then an idea starts taking shape in my head.
“You’re right.”
“I am?” he asks, suspicious.
“Yeah. Maybe I dismissed it too quickly. I’ll help you,” I say, determined.
Maybe he needs to earn the explanation to get this out of his system. I get it. When you’re scared, you need something to do. It's difficult to just sit and accept that you had no control over anything, even for a moment. That you were completely helpless.
Plus, if I can go on these excursions with him, I can divert all the flirting, I mean, investigating Oliver is suddenly into.
I absolutely cannot afford to fail. It’s necessary that Oliver doesn't find out the truth. I look at his innocent face, his sharp, tense jaw, his sweet, pouty lips, his big eyes, his cozy outfit, and all I want to do is wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him.
Alright, that's not all I want to do.
But the fact is, he’s so good, so perfect. Oliver likes to smile at everyone he meets. He even chats up my hookups sometimes. He has his dream career. He let that information slip two months ago when I wouldn't stop teasing him about his lack of bedroom action. He has a loving family.
Someday, he’ll find a nice man. Maybe even the guy on the eighth floor.
Anger spikes down my body at the thought. Okay, maybe not him.
Even though I don't want to think about him with anyone else, I know he will have a good life. He deserves it.
Oliver sips his coffee while I come to a decision. I will burn down this world to make sure Oliver doesn't discover our secret.
My phone buzzes with a text. I’m about to ignore it, but then I see it’s Nick.
What do you want to do for Christmas Eve? We can’t drive home until Christmas Day.
“I’m throwing a Christmas Eve party,” I say abruptly. Look who’s full of ideas today!
Oliver tilts his head. “You are?”
I nod to myself. More distractions, that’s what I need!
“I need your help arranging it.” I make myself look as helpless as a six-five, all-muscle dude possibly can.
“My friends rotate the Christmas party organization duty, and this year it's my turn.
But I can't ask them for help because I told them that my party would be better than Bree and Camilla's last year. But I don't know what to do, and I'm so busy with work. Now it’s almost here, and I feel like I’ll ruin their Christmas Eve,” I finish.
Not gonna lie, I made myself proud with this one.
Oliver looks so confused, so I double down. “Most of my friends can't go back home for Christmas because of work. Will you help me?”
I attempt to replicate the puppy dog eyes he made earlier. They must be effective because Oliver nods quickly. “Sure, we can do Christmas. I'm not going back home anyway. My parents are going to Bali.”
“So, you’ll help me?” I ask again, breathing out a sigh of relief.
“Of course,” he says, a little checked out. “We need to make a list. We don’t even have a week.” He takes out his phone, opens the notes app. “We have to get the tree, groceries, and ornaments. Do you have ornaments?”
I shake my head.
“I have multiple recipes I wanna try. Get me a list of allergies and preferences.” He’s not even looking at me anymore.
Wow! Did I just release a monster into the world? Ah, well, collateral damage. I pat myself on the back for the successful distraction technique.
“Alright, we can get started tomorrow.” He finally looks up from his phone. “When’s your next shift?”
“Not until day after tomorrow.”
He nods. “We can go tree shopping tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” I smile.
“And tonight, I’ll go upstairs to talk to other neighbors after work,” he continues.
My smile drops, and I sigh an aggrieved, internal sigh. Small steps, Matt. He’s already thinking a little less about Dalton.
“Will you come?” he asks, hesitantly.
“Of course, I will. Just come by when you're back, and we'll go.”
“Awesome,” he says, his face turning everything sunshine and good. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the blue looking lighter somehow. His entire face shines.
He clears his throat. “I'll see you in the evening then.”
I nod as he walks away, trying not to outright frown.
Nick calls me as soon as Oliver is out the door.
“I’m going to kill you the next time I see you,” I warn.
“Now, sir, do you know threatening an officer of law is a criminal offence?” he says, amused.
“Prison will be worth this.”
“Dude, if you’re gonna pretend like you’re not thanking me every minute of the day for giving you an excuse to spend time with Oliver, go ahead. But we both know the truth. So, let me get to better topics.”
“Like what?” I ask, too tired to think of a comeback.
“Like Marcus called. The two people we found in your building were pumped up on a lot of drugs. The weird thing is, they weren’t sedatives or tranquilizers, and they didn’t kill them. Affected their bodies, though. Shut down some organs.”
“Why would Dalton give drugs to humans and keep them in his home?” I think out loud. “Did you identify the bodies? Were they abducted?”
“Yes, both lived in the city. And no, there’s no missing persons report or anything. I called one of the victim’s sisters, and she said he asked her not to contact him for a while. Said he was going to some sort of camp?”
“What kind of camp does a grown man go to?” I ask, confused.
Nick sighs. “She didn’t know. Said he was being cagey about it. He even ended his lease three months ago.”
“So, he was expecting to be there for a long time.”
“Yup. There’s more. Marcus found surgery marks on the bodies, not professionally done. The skin below their fingernails was opened at some point. It wasn’t healed properly on both bodies,” he says, his voice grim.
A jolt runs down my spine at the implication. “What are you saying, Nick?”
“It looked like they were trying to insert claws into them.”
“Did they succeed?”
“No. And hopefully they stopped after one failed attempt.”
“But your gut says they didn’t?” I guess.
“I’m hoping I’m wrong. Very wrong.”