Chapter 26
Huxley
As Oliver relays the details of his meeting, I feel like all the oxygen is being sucked out of my lungs. I’m conscious of my slight rocking, as I try, and fail, to quiet the escalating negative thoughts inside my head. Every possible horrid outcome is causing more and more panic.
Adrenaline slowly permeates my bones, snaking through my limbs and rendering me weak. I don’t know if I want to cry, scream, or run away and hide. It takes all my willpower not to show it on my face. More than ever, Oliver needs my support, and I’m determined to give it.
I would never forgive myself if he lost a job he loves trying to defend me.
How can Williams suspend Oliver for doing the right thing? It’s like being trapped in a surrealist painting, nothing is as it should be. Oliver is still talking through the situation, and if I’ve heard correctly, he’s considering quitting next week. What the actual fuck!
“Oliver, you can’t resign,” I say, finally finding my voice.
“Promise me you’ll take at least a week, even a few weeks, to decide what to do.
It’s not a decision you should make when you’re angry.
And we might think of another way to handle this.
You said Jennifer is on our side and trying to come up with something. ”
“Maybe,” Oliver says, slumping back in his chair, looking worn out.
“But if I don’t resign next Wednesday, then I’ll have to accept that Jake and Troy are on the team.
Can you imagine how they’ll behave towards me?
They’ll have no respect knowing their fathers have more influence than I do. Hux, this is completely fucked up.”
I reach for Oliver’s hand, wanting him to know I’m right here with him, but weighed down by guilt all the same. “I know it is. I’m sorry, this is all my fault. You’d be better off if you’d never met me.”
Oliver looks so hurt by my words that I almost wish I could take them back.
“What? Why would you say that?”
“Well…it’s true, isn’t it? You love your job and now you’re considering leaving because you’re trying to defend me.”
Oliver squeezes my hand. “Please don’t say I’d be better off if I’d never met you. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, I am defending you, but I’m also standing up for what’s right. If this was happening to anyone here at school, I’d fight for them, too.”
“Are you fighting for yourself?” I ask, my tone harsher than I’d intended. But Oliver sounds like a straight ally talking and not a queer man. This is his rights and his identity on the line too, and it seems like he hasn’t made the connection.
Oliver’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“You’re bi, Oli. If you were out, or if we were out as a couple, they might be saying the same things about you.”
Oliver chews on his bottom lip.
“Then again,” I continue, “Maybe they wouldn’t say anything because you’re this straight passing, masc, sporty teacher. Maybe if they knew someone who looks and acts like you could be queer, then it would change their negative views.”
We both fall silent, our eyes locked on each other. Then Oliver replies, “Maybe. But look at how Reece reacted. It didn’t stop him from being a fucking homophobe.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling guilty for being critical and for causing all this mess in the first place.
Oliver blinks, his brown eyes so sad. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
He can say it, but it doesn’t mean it’s true.
I look down at my uneaten lunch.
“Hey, since I’ll be off work tomorrow, I’ve decided to visit my mum. I want to speak to her about what happened before Reece does.”
Yeah, and I’m fucking up Oliver’s family, too. “How come you aren’t mad at me?” I blurt out.
“Why would I be? Troy and Jake and bloody Bob and Williams are the people I’m mad at.” Oliver sighs.
I know I’m being too needy. I don’t know when to stop talking sometimes.
Oliver gives my hand a little tug. “Am I still coming over to stay at your place tomorrow night?”
Is he having second thoughts about us? I mean, it doesn’t make sense for us to continue seeing each other if it upends his life. “Do you not want to?” I ask.
“Oh Hux!” Oliver stands, pulling me out of my chair and into his arms. “Of course I want to. I’ve been looking forward to it. Please stop thinking you’ve done something wrong. You’re the person who puts a smile on my face.”
I melt against his chest, the truth of his words evident in the way he holds me. Closing my eyes, I push aside all my stupid thoughts and focus on the man before me. “I’ve been looking forward to it too. And you still want to, you know?”
Oliver pulls back, eyes searching mine. “More than ever. I need you, Hux.”
He kisses me gently at first, then more urgently, the remaining tension falling away as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. This is what I need. Oliver.
After dinner, I chat to Maddie and Lara on the phone for an hour. They do their best to help me with my anxiety, which has spiked again since saying goodbye to Oliver in the school car park. If I’m being truthful, I’m not in a good way.
Needing another distraction after the phone call, I try taking a bath, then watch my favourite episode of Interview with the Vampire. Even though it’s almost bedtime, I know I won’t be able to sleep, so I sit down to write.
I haven’t added a chapter to my current fanfic in a while, but I give up after twenty minutes of staring at a blank page.
Lara asked me if I’d told Oliver I was diagnosed with autism, and when I said, “not yet,” she promptly scolded me like a toddler.
But it’s not easy telling people. I mean, I know Oliver will be fine—he’s a teacher after all and works with neurodivergent students all the time—but I still fear he’ll see me differently.
I know I mask, and I probably shouldn’t, but I’m low on the spectrum and mostly manage well.
Apart from noise sensitivities, some weird food texture stuff, and needing time alone every day, it’s all good.
Okay, I admit it, there’s heaps more to it than that. Like needing routines and repetition, my complete aversion to change and socialising, and let’s not forget the big one—the fucking anxiety!
Lara’s right, I should tell Oliver. I struggle in high stress times, and this bullshit at Brighton College is only getting worse.
“Louis,” I say, patting the pup at my feet. “Should I tell him?”
“Ruh-roh.”
“I don’t want to call. I’d rather tell him in person, but I don’t want to do that tomorrow night, being the big night and all. What if I just text?”
Louis sprawls out on his tummy and places his head on the floor. “Hrrf.”
“OMG Louis, so judgy. Yes, I’m a coward, I admit it.”
I spend at least ten minutes writing, editing, deleting and rewriting the text before I hit send and die a little inside.
Me: Oliver, I know I should tell you this in person, but I’m too stressed about it.
I’ve been trying to pretend all this shit at school isn’t too much, but truthfully, my anxiety is kinda bad right now.
Please don’t think differently about me after I tell you this, but I have level one ASD.
It’s all good, I cope okay, and I have a great psychologist who supports me, But I thought you should know.
Sorry, I’m rambling. I hope your visit with your mum goes well tomorrow. x
I stare at the message on the screen, reading it and rereading it to check if it makes sense. Which is why I startle and almost drop my phone when Oliver calls me—with a FaceTime request no less. “Fuck fuck fuck.” So much for avoiding a phone call.
For a few seconds I contemplate not answering but then suck in a deep breath and compose my face.
“Hey,” I say when Oliver appears on the screen.
“Hey, is it okay to call this late?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I got your text.”
I nod dumbly, not sure what to make of Oliver’s worried face.
He continues when I don’t reply. “I figured this school stuff was causing a lot of stress. You didn’t even eat any lunch today.
I know you feel responsible for my suspension.
But you shouldn’t. Hux, you need to tell me before it gets bad so I can be there for you.
Let me know what helps and what you need. Can you please do that?”
I frown, utterly confused. Didn’t Oliver read the text properly? Guess I have to say it to his face after all. “Yeah, I’ll try. I promise. But did you read all the text?”
Oliver smiles, his eyes filling with affection. “You mean the ASD?”
“Well, yeah. What do you…um…do you…”
“Hux, maybe I shouldn’t have, but I already assumed you were neurodivergent. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like it’s obvious, but if you put the pieces together, it points in that direction. Did you think it would bother me?”
My thoughts spiral a little, not sure if I’m happy that Oliver noticed. Does everyone know? Am I that obvious?
Whoa, I need to discuss this with my psych, because I think I have some internalised prejudice going on here. “I hoped it wouldn’t bother you,” I finally say, trying to relax.
“Well, it doesn’t. I promise. It’s just one part of what makes you unique, and, honestly, fucking adorable. But let me know what stuff stresses you out and what you need. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
Oliver and I talk for another twenty minutes or so. It’s after 11:00 when we finally hang up, and I head to bed.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting in deep. I want to be with Oliver. Not just dating but an official relationship. Is it too early to have that conversation? If our night together goes well, then maybe.
Am I falling for him? I don’t think I want to admit that yet, but if the romantic scenarios running loops in my head are anything to go by, then… I put an abrupt stop to that thought. It’s way too early to go there.
I settle in bed and pull the doona over my head, groaning as my imagination runs away with me. I need to stop overthinking everything!
At least this time, it’s the good stuff.
Rolling onto my other side, I try to quiet my mind because I need to sleep.
But images of Oliver a little older appear before my eyes.
I see our house, and Cazaly and Louis running around the backyard.
Oliver is playing footy with our kids, while I organise lunch for us.
“Ah, just stop!” I announce to the darkened room, annoyed with myself.
Louis makes a little ruff sound as if scolding me.
“I know,” I say. “But Oliver would make such a great husband and dad.”
God only knows what time I eventually fall asleep.