Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
OLLIE
“I think something is wrong with me,” I say to Ross as I sit next to him in the lecture hall. For such a small class size, we sure do have a large classroom.
“What’s it this time?” Ross asks as he brings his coffee to his lips.
Classes started this week. I thought it would be helpful and keep me distracted from this unsettling feeling I have pumping through me, but it’s done nothing other than frustrate me.
I haven’t really spent time with Silas since the zoo and the almost car kiss.
We’ve seen each other in passing as I’ve used his gym, but he’s been busy with practice and sponsorship meetings with his agent and apparently shooting some commercials as well.
I’ve been keeping up with my internship and getting ready for the new school year.
I turn to Ross. “I’m really horny.”
He nearly spits out his coffee. “Jesus, Ollie. Warn a guy.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, seeing that we’re drawing attention from around us. “But it’s true.”
“Don’t you have a fake boyfriend to take care of those needs?”
“No,” I say. “And please use your whispering voice. You never know who might be listening.”
“What do you mean, no? I thought you and Silas were getting along nicely.”
“We are. He texts occasionally to see how things are going and asks if I need his help. I tell him everything is fine, but that’s it.
There’s nothing sexual about our interactions.
” Nothing sexual that goes all the way, at least. It’s almost as if we’ve been edging each other, and that’s more frustrating than anything.
“Do you want it to be sexual?”
“If you were in my situation, would you want it to be sexual?”
Ross takes a sip of his coffee and stares at the classroom in front of us. “I would let that man do anything he wants to me.”
“Exactly. He’s so hot, Ross, it’s breaking my will.”
“If you like him, then just fuck him.”
“I can’t,” I say. “That’s the problem. Our situation is great right now.
Plus, I know he says he doesn’t, but I think he still has a thing for his ex, and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of that.
He won’t even talk about what happened between them.
The last thing I should be doing is fucking his brains out. ”
“And you would, wouldn’t you?” Ross asks with a smirk.
I lean in a little closer and whisper, “I want to suck his cock so hard. I had a dream about it the other night. And I’ve been itchy ever since.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“No, but I got an email from Roberts yesterday asking how my hockey assignment is coming along. And I’m going to tell you right now.
I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I thought I had an angle for a second, but nope.
I can’t think of one single thing to write, and what Roberts wants me to write about is out of the question. ”
“What does he want you to write about?”
“He wants me to try to expose the Agitators owner. I know nothing about him. I haven’t even met him, and it’s going to look awfully suspicious if I ask Silas a bunch of questions about some old man who pays his salary.”
“Yeah, that won’t come off right.”
“So basically, I have nothing to write, I’m going to fail out of school, and I’ll have to live with my parents and eat my words.”
“Yeah, that does seem plausible.”
“Ross,” I say while pushing him.
He chuckles. “I think you should meet up with Silas and talk to him about it. Maybe he’ll have some ideas. And also, you can stare at him while he talks and think about all the ways you would love to suck his—”
“Good morning,” our professor says while setting his bag on the teacher’s desk.
“Good morning,” we say collectively.
Ross elbows me. “Text him. See if he’s busy.”
He’s right. Silas might be able to help me with some ideas. And yeah, maybe I miss seeing him a little bit. I always have fun with him, so it might not kill us to get together and have a moment to catch up.
I open my computer and shoot him a text.
Ollie: What are you up to tonight? Free?
As I take notes, listening to our professor, Silas texts me back.
Silas: Yup. Need something?
Ollie: Can I come over? I want to talk hockey.
Silas: Talk hockey? Am I going to need some alcohol for this?
Ollie: Probably.
Silas: I’ll stop by the store. What time tonight?
Ollie: See you around seven?
Silas: That works. Want me to pick you up?
Ollie: That’s okay. Thanks, though.
Silas: Let me know if you change your mind. See you tonight.
Whispering to Ross, I say, “I’m going to his place tonight. Going to talk all the hockey.”
“Hopefully, that’s not the only thing you do.”
Hopefully, it is because I don’t think I could handle anything else.
* * *
Why am I nervous?
Jesus, Ollie, get it together.
You’ve hung out with this man many times.
Yet this feels different.
Why does it feel different?
Maybe because the last time I was with him, something changed inside me. The way he spoke to me the night of the family skate night. How he apologized without blinking an eye. How he took full responsibility. And how he didn’t want to leave me that night.
And then he followed it up with breakfast in bed . . .
I don’t know. I’ve never been treated like that before and found myself loosening up around him.
Like in the sauna, where I didn’t mind that he saw my ass.
That I was thrilled to show it to him, and even more thrilled to think about the possibility of him getting hard over it.
And then his genuine kindness toward me on the anniversary of Grandma’s passing. The almost kiss.
It’s all flipped a switch inside me. I want him. The man so far out of my league...my business partner. Of sorts.
What is wrong with me?
Now I’m just teasing him and myself.
Because I know I’m not going to let anything happen between us. Like I told Ross, Silas has some demons to deal with, and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of them. So instead, I’m apparently just going to flaunt myself, driving us both crazy because I’m so fucking horny it hurts.
Hence the nerves.
I’m nervous that I’ll say or do something stupid, like I don’t know, accidentally trip and fall head first into his lap. Or say something like . . . can I suck your cock as an appetizer?
Urgh, I bet he has the most delicious penis ever. Thick, but not too thick, veiny . . . pierced. If he’s not pierced, I would be so freaking shocked.
The elevator dings, and I step off and head to his door. I’m glad his apartment isn’t one of those places where the elevator opens up into the actual apartment. I like knowing there’s a barrier.
I walk up to his door, and even though I have a key, I knock. As I wait, I glance down at my outfit. I chose a pair of black leggings, thick poofy socks to wear over them, and his sweatshirt because it’s chilly out today, and it’s really comfortable.
The door unlocks and opens, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel a sense of belonging. It’s odd. Like this man completely understands me despite him not knowing everything.
His dreamy eyes scan my outfit before locking gazes with me.
“Nice sweatshirt.”
“Thanks.” I smirk. “Someone left it in my dorm, and as I like to say, finders keepers.”
“It’s quite big on you.”
“The way I like it.” Gripping the straps of my little backpack, I say, “Are you going to let me in?”
“Sure,” he says as he takes a step away from the door, and that’s when I notice he’s wearing black joggers with no socks and a heather slate-gray shirt that clings to every contour of his body.
It’s a simple outfit, yet for some reason, he still looks incredibly hot, especially with his hair still wet from a recent shower, showing off his eyes.
“What is that heavenly smell?” I ask as I take my shoes off.
“Got some lasagna and garlic bread from one of my favorite places.” He shuts the door, and as he walks by, he leans in and says, “And I got some for you, too.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask in a joking manner, but he just shrugs and leads me to the kitchen.
“Help yourself,” he says as he pulls the food out of the oven where he’s kept it warm.
We each serve ourselves a plate and then we sit at the dining room table—which is nice because I’m usually eating on my bed or at my desk. I like my place, but sometimes a table is a nice change.
I dig my fork into the lasagna, but before I take a big bite, I say, “Thank you for this. I’m starving. All I had was a protein bar today and an iced latte.”
He glances up from his plate with a stern look on his face. “Why? That’s not enough, Ollie.”
“I was really busy. Classes and then I put in a few hours at my internship, then came here.”
“No excuse. You need to eat more than that.”
“You worried about me, Taters?”
“I am. Can’t have you fainting at events.”
“Do you have any events coming up?”
“I have a sponsorship party on Friday, but I don’t think it’s something you have to go to. I’m sure you’d rather go out.”
“But do you need me there?” I ask.
“I don’t need you there since Pacey and Holmes will be there. I can just hang with Holmes since he won’t be bringing anyone.”
I pause, slightly confused. “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Insecurity laces up my spine as I think about our last interaction and how I taunted him with my vibrator.
Did I . . . did I scare him off? We haven’t hung out since then.
And he’s checked in a few times, but if I truly think about it, he’s pulled away a touch.
“What?” he asks and shakes his head. “No, you’re good.”
“Okay, well . . . I’d like to go to the event if you want to take me. I feel like you do a lot for me, and I need to be able to be there for you in return. If you’re worried I’ll embarrass you, I can—”
“I’m not worried about that.” He picks up a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite.
I pause for a moment to study him. “I feel like you’re acting weird. Like I did something, and you’re not telling me.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Oliana.” The way he says my real name in such a serious tone penetrates right to my heart.