Chapter Eight
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I haven’t heard from Ollie for four days. Nothing. Not even a text telling me to get lost. I shouldn’t have kissed him. But it seems that’s all I’m capable of when I see him. He’s so cute it scrambles my brain, and I’m lost for words. So the only thing I can come up with is kiss him, but then I think I’ve gone too far and I’m so embarrassed I run for the hills. He was wavering about our arrangement, but I thought maybe he would realise I want more than being a pretend boyfriend. I want to be his real boyfriend. I want to hold his hand and kiss him whenever I feel like it. I want to strip him down and claim him. I want my mouth on every part of him, taste him, lick him, love him. Now I’ve messed it all up, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
“Kit, are you listening?”
Jack clicks his fingers in front of my face.
“Huh, sorry, no. What did you say?”
“I said what time are you meeting Ollie tonight? The reunion is only a week away now. Have you learnt everything you need to know? Shoe size, favourite food, what his parents do for a living, where his favourite place to holiday is?”
He gives me a sly smile. “Whether he dresses to the left or the right?”
I ignore the jibe. “We haven’t arranged to meet tonight. I think we’ve covered everything, and yes to all your questions. I know the answers to all of them.”
I walk over to the young, preppy-looking man who’s just walked in, effectively ending the conversation with Jack.
At lunchtime, I check my phone, where a message from Ollie is waiting for me.
Ollie: Can we meet up tonight?
Me: Yes, definitely. Where?
Ollie: The Orchard Bar, near me?
Me: Okay, what time?
Ollie: I’ll be there after six.
Me: See you then
I frown at my phone. It doesn’t feel right. There was no friendliness, no smiley faces. I’m not sure what’s going to happen tonight. I’m less sure I want to know.
I don’t say anything to Jack until the end of the day and we’re getting ready to leave. I put my coat on, wrap my scarf around my neck, and pick up my bag. “I’m meeting Ollie in a little bit, so I’ll be coming back with you.”
“Oh, okay. When did he call?”
“He sent me a message.”
“He didn’t call?”
“No, what difference does that make?”
Where’s he going with this?
“None. He usually calls because he doesn’t like sending too many texts. He says it’s easier to call than wait for messages to go back and forth.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet. The tube is busy, and Jack seems engrossed in his phone. Either that or he’s ignoring me. Does he know what’s going on? My stomach churns, and that’s so not like me. I’m the confident, cocky one, the flirty and funny guy, but Ollie has changed me. And I’m perfectly happy with that. The days of one-night stands and short-lived affairs are over. I’m ready to be his forever after. I want to be his forever after.
We get off the tube and trudge up the stairs, elbowing our way through a throng of people wanting to get out of work mode and into the Friday evening and weekend vibe.
When we reach the top, Jack claps me on the back. “See you later, Kit.”
“Oh, okay. You’re not coming to the pub?”
“Nah, I’m not in the mood. I’m going crash in front of the TV tonight.”
“See you later, then.”
Jack goes to the right, while I go straight ahead to the pub.
Inside, it’s busy with chattering and laughing people. I look around. Is Ollie here already? There. He’s sitting at a small table in the corner, a pint that’s still almost full in front of him, so I grab one for myself and weave through the clusters of men and women.
“Hey, Ollie.”
My greeting startles him, and he looks up, his face flushed.
“Oh, hi, Kit. Thanks for coming.”
“Ollie, we’ve got together every Friday for the last seven weeks. It’s not a problem. How’ve you been? We haven’t spoken much this week. Is everything okay?”
I sit opposite him.
He looks at me and then away again before taking a drink. “I can’t do this anymore, Kit. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come with me next week. It’s all got too complicated. I’m not good at pretending, and I won’t be able to pull off that we’re not really boyfriends. School was hard enough for me, and to have to deal with all the scrutiny of those men won’t work. I’m sorry.”
“What’s happened, Ollie? Why have you decided this now?”
“I’ve been feeling it for a while now. I should’ve told you earlier. I really hoped it would be okay, but I don’t want to mess you around any longer. It’s not fair on you.”
“It is me? Is it because I kissed you? I know I shouldn’t have, that I crossed a line. I’m sorry.”
“No, Kit. Don’t apologise. It’s nothing you’ve done. It’s all on me.”
He looks over his shoulder at the crowded bar, then back at me. “I’m sorry.”
He stands and kisses my cheek. “You’re a lovely man, Kit. Thanks for everything.”
He moves through the groups of people like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I hate that I’ve caused him to be so unhappy. I hate the bastards who bullied him at school, thinking it was fun. I hate Monty fucking Atkinson for making him do this in the first place. But the person I hate the most is myself. I should’ve owned up to my feelings for him and asked him out properly. I’m a damn fool. I don’t deserve him.
Without drinking my pint, I leave the bar.
At home, I turn my phone off and lock myself in my room.
Adam tries to coax me out, but I ignore him, and eventually, he stops.
Thank god it’s my Saturday off tomorrow.
I can’t deal with Jack and his questions and accusations.
After having a shower and slinging on a pair of sweatpants, I collapse on my bed.
I pour some of the red wine I purchased at the off-license in my water glass.
I have every intention of drinking the entire bottle.
Hopefully, it’ll do the trick and lull me to sleep without thoughts of Ollie and how much I’ve fallen for him.