Chapter Thirteen
Oliver
Matt is not a relationship guy. Sure, he was being unfairly cute and affectionate with me, but maybe that’s just how he is with his hookups? Who knows. I for sure don’t. I’ve only ever seen him with other men in the hallway.
So, while I’m glad Matt is being so casual and normal, if we leave out that fucking kiss, I’m not going to make things awkward by being clingy. Even if that means slowly chipping away at my heart with every single second I spend with him.
I don't do casual. I still remember the feel of Matt's weight on me, his warmth enveloping me when we cuddled on the couch. I felt safe, protected, and seen.
And yes, the orgasm was awesome too.
Maybe I can convince him to give it a shot? I would laugh at the thought if it didn’t make me wanna cry.
I've known the guy for almost a year. People like him don't change. It was probably just a convenient fuck. Hell, it wasn't even a fuck. I’ve seen the guys he hooks up with. I’m so far beyond his type, it’s not even funny.
And even with men who are his type, I've never seen the same guy twice, not that I was paying too much attention.
Alright, I was! Sue me. All of them are huge, muscly men who probably rent out spaces in gyms because they never leave.
Matt won’t change himself, definitely not for me.
I pace my room, annoyed by my thoughts, furious by my actions, and embarrassed by my heart's reaction to everything.
I call the only person I know who would help me solve the tangle in my head, but first, I have to endure all her gloating.
Anna picks up after the first ring. “Oh my god, where have you been?” she screeches. I can hear people chattering in the background. She’s still in office, then.
I let her get it out of her system.
“You were supposed to call me last week. I have the text. Do you want me to screenshot and send it to you? I was waiting! I was so worried, Ollie. Do you not care about my weak heart? Why would you do that to me? Where have you been?”
“Are you done?” I ask.
“What's up?” She goes serious at my solemn tone. “Wait, I’ll go to the break room. Too many nosy people here.” I hear footsteps on the other side. Then silence. “That's better. So, what's gotten up your ass?”
Maybe it's the lack of something going up my ass. I roll my eyes at myself. We’re being serious right now, Oliver.
“Ollie?”
“I screwed up,” I confess. Because that’s what it ultimately comes down to.
“At work? They’re not going to fire you, Ollie. They literally won you in a bidding war!”
“That’s an exaggeration. I had one other offer, and they offered to pay more. There was no war,” I clarify.
I can hear her eyes roll. She chooses to ignore me. “I saw last week's episode.”
“Yeah? You liked it?”
“It was …a show,” she settles for.
I laugh. “It's not work, Ann.”
“Then is it the neighbor you're pining for?”
I gasp. “I'm not pining for anyone!”
“What did he do?” Her voice takes an angry edge.
“He didn't do anything.”
“And that's the issue?” she asks. Too accurate with her guesses today, this one.
I already regret calling her. She was my best friend growing up.
Then my pretend girlfriend. My life wasn’t the most fun, surprisingly, but Anna was always there.
She could have been a popular kid, with her blonde hair and blue eyes.
She didn't care about her reputation, though.
She said, “This isn't life, Ollie. This is all temporary.” She was my anchor.
“What happened? Tell me everything,” she pushes, and I suddenly feel like teenage Ollie again. I confess everything except the weird sighting and my amateur detective skills.
She listens patiently through all of it. “So let me get this straight. You're telling me the guy brought you croissants after you made out, then you slept together, then you went and called it a one-time thing on his face, and now you’re crying about it?”
When she put it like that, it sounded a little too simple. “It's not that simple,” I insist. “He doesn't do relationships, and I'm not his type.”
“Well, both of those are his decisions, aren't they?” she says. “Why are you making decisions for him? What do you want?”
“Well, I want him, but I can't have him reject me.
We live across from each other. It'll be awkward, and I like him too much to have no part of him at all,” I admit, my heartbeat picking up.
“Also, I'm helping him organize this Christmas party.
He's relying on me. I can't make things all awkward now,” I add to offset some of the vulnerability that leaked out.
“Well, that's one way to live. You can pack yourself inside your safe bubble, not dating anyone, not risking your heart ever. Or you can go and fucking talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Thick across the hall and let him tell you what he feels.”
“You know it's not that easy. He’s so kind and nice and beautiful. And I know it seems simple, but there’s no way our relationship would survive a rejection.”
“I know, but there’s no other way, babe.”
I nod.
“Listen, I wish we could talk more, but I have a meeting in two minutes. Maybe I can call you once I’m back home?”
“No, it'll be too late here. I'll call you over the weekend,” I promise.
“See to it that you do this time,” she says sternly.
I make myself a quick dinner. Halfway through, I realize I got used to cooking for two people. Five, if you count Matt’s calorie needs. One week and I’m cooking dinner for him by mistake. I’m so fucked!
I finally go to bed, prepared for a restless night of sleep.
The nightmares keep me up. The glowing eyes, the chase. But this time, there are two sets of footsteps behind me. I don’t even have to turn to know it’s him. Matt.
***
My mind is all over the place the next day. Emily catches me distracted twice, and Sophia watches me, concerned the entire time.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Emily asks after we’re done.
My body crackles with nervous energy. Did I let my stupid heart get me fired?
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” she continues.
Oh no, oh no, oh no!
“You're doing a great job, Oliver. I know I don’t say that often enough. You should be proud.” She pats my arm, smiling. “Now, you look stressed out. Go have some fun, dude. You deserve it.”
I nod. Oh, thank god! Her approval eases some of the tension in my stomach.
Back at my apartment, I wonder if I should check with Matt. We still haven't decorated the tree, and I need to discuss his schedule, so I can prep the food accordingly. No, maybe he’ll think I’m being too clingy.
I wait for him to come to me instead. When he doesn't, I prepare dinner, then pace around after eating.
Why the fuck am I being so fucking weird? He asked me to help him with the party. Of course, I’ll need to discuss that with him. C’mon, Oliver!
When I step out with the intention of knocking on his door, I remember he probably has a shift. I roll my eyes at my antics.
My mind has been a chaotic mess lately. With so much going on, I haven’t even really thought about my investigation. I’ve gotten way too comfortable waking up drenched in sweat, twice most nights. I even forgot that I was going to talk to Dalton’s downstairs neighbor.
No better time than now. I turn to the elevator, sans cupcakes this time. I go to the eighth floor to do my routine knocks on Dalton and Marge’s apartments. When they both adamantly remain unopened, I take the elevator down. Don’t judge me. I now have a thing with taking stairs at night.
On the seventh floor, I knock lightly on the door marked 7D.
A girl in her late twenties opens the door, a Rottweiler and a German Shepherd behind her, looking all too interested in the new guest.
“Hey, Ollie. What's up?” she asks.
I look at the dogs again, hesitating, then go for a casual tone. “You've been inviting me for so long. I was free today, so I thought I'd drop by. See what's up.” Apparently, that’s me trying to sound like a twenty-one-year-old douche.
“Oh, that's lovely.” She invites me in, keeping the dogs behind the door.
Gina is one of my favorite neighbors, probably the only one I love running into, especially when she’s not carting her dogs after her. It's not that they’re bad or dangerous dogs. They’re just a little too interested in me.
Right on cue, the Rottweiler jumps on me, slobbering me up with kisses. I might have to take another shower when I'm back home, but I won't deprive myself of some dog cuddles. The German Shepherd sits at my feet, looking up at me with his adorable eyes, letting his brother get in his cuddles.
I scratch behind his ears as he showers me with dog saliva.
“Do you want tea?” Gina asks, already halfway across the kitchen. Not surprising because she’s been insisting that tea is magic and how it’s a shame I don’t drink any. She’s got her chance now.
She brings two cups over while I entertain her dogs.
“You should have this at night. It'll help you sleep better,” she encourages, handing me a cup.
“Well, I can really use that.” I take a sip, holding Scooby at bay.
“Scooby, down,” Gina commands.
Scooby whines but sits beside his brother
Gina looks at me expectantly. “So, how is it?”
It’s not bad. “Pretty good. Like mildly flavored water.”
“But that's the thing! It’s flavored water with great properties.”
I still don't buy into the whole thing, but I nod enthusiastically and look for a subtle way to bring Dalton into the conversation. “Hey, have you seen the guy who lives above your apartment recently?” Or just dump a random topic on her.
Bless her heart because she takes the sudden topic change in stride. “I don’t think so, no. But now that you mention it, things have been quiet for a while.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “Did he stomp around a lot?”
“No, I often heard a lot of faint growling from upstairs. He must have had some angry dogs cooped up there, or he was watching some weird movies,” she frowns. “Or porn.”
My tea goes down the wrong pipe. ”So there were growling noises every day?” I cough.
“Well, not every day. Like once every week or two. It was often enough that I registered a complaint with the super, but you know him.” I nod.
“Nothing happened. I even went to his apartment one day, and he just glared at me until I left. I even almost called animal control because I’ve never seen him with a dog. What if he’s keeping them tied up?”
My brain tries to make sense of it. So the guy wasn't just a druggie. He had a dog that he didn’t take care of. That's deplorable!
I place my empty cup on the table, and Scooby takes it as permission to climb back over me. This time, he curls up in my lap and lies down, completely forgetting how big and heavy he is. I almost groan, but run my hand over his coat instead.
Gina peppers me with questions about the upcoming episodes of the show. She’s the biggest fan, she had proclaimed the first time I told her I write for it.
I give her as much information as I can without breaking the confidentiality clause. When I leave, I’m more confused than before.
Four apartments no clues. This investigation is clearly doomed.
I give Matt's house another lingering gaze before going back inside, closing the door, and hoping the chamomile tea will work its magic tonight.