into the box #2
We eat our lunch, drink our pints, and get lost in conversation.
People come and go past the bar, some of them quietly waving, some patting him on the shoulder.
No one treats him like a famous footballer.
He’s just their former student, their neighbor, or the kid who delivered their newspaper.
It’s completely disarming. I realize how rare this is for him, to be recognized but not followed. To belong without being scrutinized.
“You really love it here, don’t you?” I ask softly after we order a second round of drinks.
“I do.” He glances over at me, smiling. “It’s home. It’s the only place where everything just feels… I don’t know, simple.”
I nod. “Yeah. I get that.”
But truthfully, I don’t get it. I grew up in the same apartment with my parents in New York City, but I never felt like things were simple there. And they certainly weren’t simple when I was living with Matt. I’ve never been in a place that makes me feel grounded. Not like this.
He glances at me, studying my face. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” I shrug, searching for the words. “I don’t know. I think I envy this sense of peace you find here. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that somewhere before?”
“Not even back in New York?”
“God, no.” I laugh, shaking my head. “New York is constant chaos. It’s packed to the gills with people, but no one sees you.
You could disappear in plain sight. Here…
it’s so different. It’s just… real. It makes me wonder if…
” My throat tightens, a thought sits heavy in my chest that I hadn’t considered before.
“Wonder what?”
“Maybe that’s why I set that rule for myself. Rule Two. Never stay in one job longer than a year. I told myself it was ambition, and to never let myself feel small again. But maybe… maybe it’s because I haven’t found a place that feels like home yet.”
“You’ll find it,” he says softly. Then he slides off his stool. “I’m gonna use the loo. Will you be alright for a moment?”
I smirk. “Yeah, I think I’ll survive.”
Oliver smiles and heads off. I watch as he weaves through the pub, nodding to a man playing pool, shaking the hand of another as he heads toward the bathroom. I zone out for a moment, just taking in the sights and smells of the pub. The sound of glasses clinking, the laughter, the banter.
“So,” Jamie says, pulling my focus back to the bar. “How long have you and Oliver been seeing each other?”
I freeze for a second, my mind stumbling over the words. “Oh, um… we’re just, uh… we’re friends. We work together.”
“Right.” Jamie raises an eyebrow. “I just thought maybe it was more because he’s never brought a girl home to Stratton Wood before.” He gives me a quick grin, like he knows we’re just friends but wanted to slip me that information somehow.
“Definitely just friends,” I say again. My words feel stiff, like I’m trying to convince myself.
“Ah, my mistake then,” Jamie says with a shrug. “He’s a good bloke, you know. One of the best, really. He’s been through enough.”
That last statement feels like a warning. It’s like a plea, not even from Jamie, but from this whole town, not to hurt him.
Before I can say anything, Oliver heads out from the bathroom and leans casually against the bar.
“Ready for a little adventure?” Oliver asks, his voice more playful than I’ve ever heard.
“Adventure?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “What are we getting into now?”
Oliver chuckles and hands me my coat. “Oh, you’ll see.”
I watch out the window as the town gives way to rolling green hills—the buildings fading until it’s just us and the countryside.
“Where are we going?” I ask for the third time.
Oliver’s mouth curves into that infuriating half-grin, eyes still on the road. “Oh, nowhere.”
“That’s ominous,” I mutter, which only seems to make his grin widen. “Dumping my body out here?”
“Maybe,” he says, tilting his head like he’s considering it. “If you keep asking.”
Eventually, he slows down and pulls onto a narrow shoulder, just wide enough for the car to tuck off the road.
“And what are we doing here?” I ask, looking out the window for some sign of where we are or why we’re here.
“Well,” Oliver says, turning toward me with a mischievous spark in his eyes, “I’m going to teach you how to drive.”
I blink. “What? Drive… where?”
“Here.” He gestures outside the car like I’ve asked a ridiculous question. “It’s the perfect place. Quiet roads. No pressure.”
I look at him like he has two heads. “Oliver, you realize driving here is the opposite of everything I’ve ever known, right? Wrong side of the road. Wrong side of the car.”
“You scared?”
“Of course I’m scared!” I let out a nervous laugh.
“Addison, life is made up of moments. Don’t let your fear hold you back from having them.”
“But—”
“Trust me, Addie. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Damn it. He says that like it’s a promise.
So, naturally, I say the first dumb thing that comes to my mind.
“Okay.”
He hops out of the car, and we switch places. I climb into the driver’s seat like I don’t belong there. Everything feels backwards.
“This just feels wrong,” I whisper, running my hands along the steering wheel.
“You’re fine,” Oliver says. “Nice and slow. Easy does it.”
I follow his directions and jerk the car forward. His face remains patient and encouraging, but inside he has to be wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.
“Oh my god. I’m gonna kill us, aren’t I?”
“Nope,” he says casually, as if my lack of control isn’t terrifying him. “You’re doing fine.”
I shoot him a look. “You are a terrible liar.”
“I’m a captain, remember? It’s my job to instill confidence in my teammates. Now keep your eyes on the road before you drive us into that hedge.” He grins, pointing ahead.
“Shit,” I mutter as I narrowly avoid swerving off the road.
“You’re alright,” Oliver says calmly from the passenger seat.
Eventually, I manage a turn without panicking and over-correcting. It feels like maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this and my confidence grows with every bend in the road.
But then, of course, a car rushes past me, cutting me off with barely an inch of space to spare.
“Fuck! You wanker!” I shout without even thinking.
“Well, look at you,” Oliver says with a laugh that fills the car. “Did you just call someone a wanker?”
“Sorry.” I look over at him, flushed, but grinning. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
“Oh, sure. Blame me.” He laughs, feigning innocence.
Eventually, it’s just us on the road. My shoulders relax, the tension leaving my body.
“Wow,” I say, my voice caught between disbelief and pride. “I’m doing it. I’m driving.”
“You sure are,” Oliver says, his smile stupidly perfect from the passenger seat.
But then I spot a road sign indicating a roundabout coming up. “Nope. Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line. No roundabouts.”
Oliver laughs. “Alright. Pull over. We’ll switch.”
He barely has the words out of his mouth and I’ve pulled over, hopping out so quickly you’d think the car was on fire.
“That was terrifying,” I say as I clip my seatbelt.
“You were brilliant.” He shifts the car into gear, and we start moving again, heading back in the direction of his mother’s house.
“You’re lying again.” I laugh. “It really was terrifying.”
“But you did it,” he says simply.
I glance over at him. He’s focused on the road, but there’s a small smile on his face, like he’s proud of me.
I look back out the window, watching as the countryside blurs by in soft, green streaks. The adrenaline from my driving lesson has worn off, but my heart is still thudding.
I have rules. I have them for a reason.
It’s how I protect myself.
I came out here this weekend to relax, to get away from all the noise that Matt has brought here. But now I’m sitting beside Oliver in the car thinking I’m breaking rules just by being here.
I let him take my hand, call me Addie, and tell me he’d never let anything happen to me. I believed him. And I loved how it felt. I really loved it.
That scares me the most—how I don’t even realize I’m playing with fire until I’m holding it in my hands.
Panic crawls up the back of my neck, like I need to rewind all this. I need to say something, or crack a joke, anything to put some distance between us again.
Oliver glances over at me. “You alright?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He stares at me for a second, but doesn’t push. “We’ll head back to Mum’s.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. I clasp my hands together in my lap, like I’m bracing myself for a storm I didn’t see coming.
But part of me wonders what it would be like to stop bracing myself. What would happen if I let it hit me? If I let someone in?