Chapter Twelve
Ollie is lying with his head on my chest, our legs tangled together. It’s perfect. When we’re finally ready to disengage our bodies—when our breathing is normal, and we have enough strength back in our legs—we have a shower. Soaping Ollie’s body was almost as much fun as fucking it, or maybe it was the mutual hand jobs that did it.
“You asleep?”
he murmurs. His voice sounds heavy, as if sleep is a blink away.
“No, I’m getting there, though. What’s up?”
I stroke through his still-damp hair.
“I’m sorry,”
Ollie says gruffly.
“What for? You’ve done nothing wrong. We both should’ve owned up to our feelings. I think we’ve learnt that we always have to have open communication with each other.”
“No, not for that. I am sorry for that too, but that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry you heard the speech, that I hadn’t told you what it was really like at school. Why Monty was the last person I ever wanted to see.”
“Ollie, why did you say yes to him?”
“I think because he still has no clue what he did was wrong. That it wasn’t exactly what he thought it was—a bit of teasing. And when it comes to him, it’s easier to give in than to fight.”
Ollie shifts so he can look at me. “It wasn’t him who made me do what I did. He and his friends were the cause of my unhappiness, but it was the lack of support from the school.”
He looks away, stroking the edge of the cotton sheet, but after another beat, he lifts his gaze back to me. “And my family. I come from an old-school traditional family. My mother did as she was told, and my father was a tyrant. I guess they are both still in those roles. I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t see them.”
I think of my overbearing mother, and even though she does my head in, I wouldn’t want not to see her.
“No, not since university. It’s been eight years now.”
“What did your dad do, Ollie?”
“He blamed me, said it was my fault for not fitting in, for not joining the rugby or the cricket team. My fault for being a nancy boy. A woofter. His idea of making it go away was to inform the school that I needed to bunk with Monty in my last year. To build a friendship with him.”
Ollie draws in a deep breath. “We were allocated single rooms for the sixth form, but Monty was the head boy, so he had a small flat. I had to bunk with him there.”
“Jesus, Ollie. Fuck. You don’t have to say anything more.”
I don’t want him to tell me. I’ll be paying Monty Atkinson a visit without hearing why Ollie, the man I’m in love with, tried to take his own life.
“I’m telling you because after tonight, I don’t want us to talk about it again. But I don’t want secrets between us, and I think this is one you could end up holding against me. Anyway, I managed the first term, ignoring him as much as I could. I’d spend my time in the library or the caretaker’s lodge. He was a nice guy and knew more about what went on in that school than anyone else. The next term was the hardest. The bullying and taunting were relentless. I was exhausted, tired of trying to get someone to take me seriously. I took a shit ton of paracetamol and washed it down with some vodka I had stashed away.”
“Who found you?”
I can hardly speak with the pain in my heart.
“The caretaker. He found me in the boathouse. I was on the rowing team. The coxswain, I was the smallest. Anyway, it was Graeme. He’d noticed I’d been acting differently and had kept an eye on me. He saved my life.”
“What happened after that?”
“I got my own room back and finished my remaining few months in detention. I went to classes but had to spend the rest of the day in my room. I was still the one being punished. It was never talked about, all hushed up. I left, and that was that.”
“Christ, Ollie.”
I haul him up to me. “You’re an amazing man. You faced your worst memory tonight, but you turned it around and owned that room. You’re, shit, you’re brilliant.”
I cup his face and kiss him with everything I have. I pour my heart and soul into it. It’s too soon to love him, but I’m getting there. When I release his face, I touch my forehead to his. “Thank you for trusting me, Ollie. For sharing that with me.”
“It’s okay. I wanted it over and done with. Now we can get back to cuddles and sleep.”
He yawns, shuffles back down the bed, and puts his head on my chest.
“One more thing. Does Jack know?”
“Yes, of course he knows. That’s why he hates Monty.”
Ollie sighs and settles down to sleep, whereas my mind is buzzing with other questions.
“One more. Then I promise to leave you alone.”
“What?”
He sounds tired more than grumpy, so I continue.
“What happened to the caretaker?”
“Graeme? He handed in his notice when they told him never to mention it again. I see him quite often. He’s more of a father to me than my own.”
“Thank you. You can sleep now.”
“Thank god.”
I chuckle and close my eyes.
I wake up when the mattress shifts and the quilt flops across me. Why is my bed moving? The faint scent of Ollie’s Ralph Lauren cologne fills my nose. Yes, I remember now. I got my man, my boyfriend. I slowly open my eyes and smile. Ollie’s sleeping face lies all crumpled on the pillow. His usually scruffy hair is even crazier as bed hair. This secret moment of simply watching him makes my heart swell. He’s here. Ollie is my boyfriend. His nose twitches, and he lifts his hand to scratch it, but he bumps into me before it gets there. Ollie’s eyes fly open.
“Good morning, boyfriend.”
I drop a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“I forgot I was here. That was a surprising way to wake up.”
“A good surprise?”
God, please don’t let him regret it.
“Yes, a really good surprise.”
Ollie smiles, still sleepy, but my heart soars.
“That’s good to know.”
I lean in and kiss him chastely with no tongues. How does he feel about morning breath? I needn’t have worried. He grips my hips, pulls me against his body, and sweeps his tongue over the seam of my lips, asking for entry. Hell yes, we’re doing this.
Ollie pushes his body so he’s rolling me onto my back, our mouths still fused as our hard dicks line up. I groan into his mouth as he rolls his hips. My stomach gets sticky from pre-cum from him or me. I don’t know or care. I just want more. I cup his arse to match his grinding and squeeze the firm globes. Ollie moans.
The ring of my phone startles both of us. Ollie pulls his lips from mine and rolls off me. I curse long and loud. My mother.
“Are you going to answer it?”
Ollie asks, his head back on his pillow.
“I’m thinking about it. It’s fifty-fifty at the moment.”
I rub my hand down my face. “It’s my mother.”
“Oh,”
he says simply. Over the last seven weeks, I have told him about the crazy that is my mother, and he knows what she’s like.
My phone keeps ringing and ringing, loudly belting out Maneater by Hall and Oates. Ollie chuckles.
It stops, and we both exhale and smile.
Until it rings again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
I snatch the phone and swipe the call. “What do you want, Mother?”
I snap. Ollie rolls his eyes at me.
“That’s no way to greet your mother, Kit,”
she replies haughtily.
“Then don’t call me at ten o’clock on Sunday morning, especially when I specifically told you I wouldn’t be available this morning.”
I wink at my gorgeous boyfriend.
Ollie raises his eyebrows and holds back a laugh.
“I can’t remember everything you tell me. I have a lot going on. You know how busy I always am.”
“Then you have to be prepared for me to be pissed off with you. You can’t have it both ways. Now what do you want?”
“Lunch, of course.”
“I’m not coming to lunch. This is another topic I’ve already spoken to you about. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
“I didn’t think you meant it. Patty Windsor is bringing her godson with her. He’s a delightful young man. I think you’ll get along splendidly.”
“No. I’m not coming, and I have a boyfriend. I have to go. I’ll speak to you in the week.”
I end the call and turn my phone off. I grin at Ollie. “Now, where were we?”
Ollie pounces back, and we lose ourselves in the tastes and touches of each other’s bodies.