Chapter 6 Olivia
OLIVIA
The rain was back.
The hope I had that crews were out repairing lines from the storm’s damage dwindled the longer I sat on the bathroom floor and listened. Every now and then, there was a rumble of thunder in the distance, but I wasn’t sure if it was getting farther away or if it was closing in on where we were.
Then again, did it really matter?
Things couldn’t get any worse.
Weston was out there doing who the hell knew what while I stayed locked in the bathroom, unable to look at him any longer. The truth was, I was fed up with how he was acting. I was also disappointed in myself for dropping Lennon’s truths the way I did.
It was best for us to keep our distance. To stay as far away from each other as we could. One of us was bound to get burned if we didn’t. Judging by the way it was going so far, it was clear that someone would be me.
I leaned my head back on the wall and closed my eyes.
Rest was almost impossible with the way the storm raged on.
But also because I couldn’t get the night’s events out of my head.
Every minute of the evening was there, playing on repeat.
There was also the ringing in my ears that picked up in the quiet.
Eventually, it would fade away, but I wasn’t quite there yet.
I imagined things being different. I thought about what I was going to have to do when I got out of here.
Breaking up with Lennon was inevitable. Drawing it out wasn’t going to help either of us.
If anything, it would only stir more resentment.
Not that I necessarily had any, but I was sure it would pop up eventually, because at the end of the day, I was hurt over Lennon's actions and words.
As much as he said he’d do better, he failed every single time. I was coming to terms with the fact that we weren’t right for each other.
There were also the glaringly obvious feelings that manifested in my body when Weston was so close. What I felt when his hand was on me was not normal in any sense of the word, which only reaffirmed that Lennon wasn’t the one for me.
I might have been young—only twenty-six—but I knew attraction when it hit me. I had a good enough relationship with my body to know when that needy desire blossomed and when it didn’t.
I was just trying to figure out why it was Weston who made me feel that way. Out of everyone in this damn office, why was it the Taylors’ brothers who made my heart do all sorts of weird things?
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and damn it, I wish they didn’t. It meant Weston was close, and I didn’t want to think about that. The only thing I wanted was to get the hell out of here, pretend the night never happened, and show up to work on Monday all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Well, as long as Weston didn’t actually fire me when we got out of here. I didn’t exactly speak to him nicely. Some would have even said I was out of line.
I groaned, but it was so low that only I could hear it. Frustration swirled through me at my stupidity. At my inability to stay in my own lane when it came to that man out there.
He got under my skin in the worst of ways. He tested me. He made me absolutely mad.
A crinkling sound I couldn’t quite place sounded, and I squinted against the darkness in the bathroom.
It was pretty much pitch black outside of the tiny strip of light coming under the door from the flashlight, which was exactly where my eyes went.
I found the same protein bar Weston tossed my way on the floor, just clearing the thickness of the door.
I couldn’t help but think: here we go again.
This push and pull with him was becoming exhausting. No, scratch that. It already was.
I didn’t want to touch the bar. I wanted to pretend like it didn’t exist. I wanted to smack my hand against it and send it flying back out under the door like a puck across ice.
That would send a message loud and clear. But was that what I really wanted? Did I want to add fuel to the fire that burned between us?
The answer was no. As much as we bickered, it wasn’t because I necessarily wanted to.
I tried so many times over the last few months to be decent with Weston.
It was usually always him who started it.
It was him who ignored me, who snapped at me, who said things that shouldn’t have been spoken at all.
The only time he actually put on a decent front was when his brother was around, but I was pretty sure that was more for pleasantries than anything else.
If nothing else came from me knowing Weston, I could live with the fact that I wasn’t a spiteful person. That I was exactly who I said I was, even when he accused me otherwise.
There was also the fact that I was really hungry. Fainting almost made my hunger pangs worse after my body settled down. I thought of food no less than a dozen times since hiding away in this blackout of a bathroom.
So, I snatched up the bar and tore at the wrapper, sinking my teeth into the soft, gooey texture and sighing when I swallowed the first bite. I finished it in three seconds flat before rolling up the wrapper and rocketing it under the door with a flick of a finger.
It wasn’t long until those lingering footsteps stopped.
What came after was the rattle of the bathroom handle before the door softly pushed open.
My stomach and heart jumped, both competing with each other in height.
I pushed myself back into the wall, my feet flat against the floor and my knees bent, pointing toward the ceiling.
My dress fell down my legs, bunching at my waist, but it wasn’t like it mattered. No one could see anything in here.
And Weston probably didn’t even want to look at me, anyway.
A more pressing thought, though, was how he unlocked the door and why he was encroaching on my space. Wasn’t he sick of me? Didn’t he want to get as far away from me as possible?
I was so used to him being difficult that my mind couldn’t make sense of his presence. Couldn’t make sense of him sticking something in the flathead lock to twist it free.
I didn’t want to be the first to talk. I said what I had to before. Besides, it wasn’t me who had to apologize for being a rude ass.
He closed the door and slid down beside me, his hip pressed firmly against mine before he scooted away an inch.
See. He wanted nothing to do with me, and yet, he was in this bathroom with me, claiming a spot on the somewhat dirty floor. Though, if I was being real, they always kept every room in the office spotless.
I would’ve guessed that his home looked the same way.
That not a fingerprint of dust was anywhere to be found.
I also would’ve bet a grand that he lined up his cans in the pantry according to their expiration date.
You didn’t run code day in and day out and not walk away with at least a tiny bit of neuroticism.
“If what you said is true,” he started, and I interrupted him straight away.
“It is true. I wouldn’t just make something like that up, Weston.”
“Relax,” he scolded, his voice turning lighter when he repeated himself. “If what you said is true, then I owe you a massive fucking apology.”
My head tilted to the side in confusion because, did I hear him right? Was he about to tell me he was sorry for the behavior he exhibited and the words he shot my way?
Yeah, I was fully living for this moment.
“That’s the first time you’ve been right all night,” I told him.
He grumbled next to me, clearly having a hard time coming up with words, but then he said them, blurting them out into the open like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“I’m sorry for how I acted and for the things I said.
You didn’t… You didn’t deserve them. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
It’s been a long fucking night. A long fucking year.
” He muttered the last part, and it was almost like he was confiding in me.
Like he was opening up and allowing me to see his vulnerable side.
Whatever made the year so tumultuous for him was right there on the tip of his tongue and inches from entering my ears and making things make sense.
Perhaps it was the reason why he was so short with me.
Why he pivoted and skedaddled out of the lunch room whenever I entered it.
Why his footsteps grew faster when we were in the hall together.
“That’s… That’s why you found me in the break room. I needed a damn drink and remembered that Lennon hid a bottle a few months back on top of the cabinets.”
I knew it.
Still, I didn’t push.
It wasn’t my business unless he wanted to make it that way. So I said, “Thanks,” and accepted his apology.
It was a solid start. A small part of me hoped it’d be the beginning of a new friendship that wouldn’t always end in hurt feelings and snippy comebacks.
I realized then that it was almost odd how quickly Weston believed what I said. He didn’t question it once. Not out there or while sitting with me.
“I find it kind of hard to believe that you’re not questioning what I said about your brother.”
Weston made this sound in his throat. It wasn’t him clearing it, but it wasn’t not that either.
“Lennon dated this girl his junior year of high school. Spent most of his year with her, and she thought they were serious, but Lennon…” I imagined him shaking his head.
“He was screwing around on her with a few of the girls on the cheer squad the second half of the year.”
Wow. I couldn’t say I was surprised. Not with that easy grin Lennon gave everyone.
“She didn’t know?”
“Fuck no,” Weston said sharply. “No one did. He kept it under wraps and was smart about when he’d meet up with the girls from the squad. It helped that the girl he was dating was more into academics than sports. Their social circles never crossed.”
Go figure.
“How did she find out then?”