Chapter 16
Oliver
By the time Oliver joined the others by the van for their double date, the sun was fully overhead, beating down ferociously on the asphalt driveway.
A drop of sweat made its way from Oliver’s nape to his lower back as they piled into the van.
To his surprise and apprehension, both Paige and Brian had met the four of them out front, offering no explanation for the additional producer oversight.
Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the fight.
The ride was awkward.
He and Declan sat next to each other in total silence as the van made its way down the winding road.
Declan was determinedly staring out the window, an unreadable expression on his face.
Despite the shower, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, pale, with slight purple bruises under his eyes.
He hadn’t bothered to style his hair or shave.
Oliver’s long legs meant he had to make an effort to keep his knee from touching Declan’s.
He had the feeling that any accidental contact between them would make the afternoon completely unbearable.
He kept thinking of their hands touching when they had been in bed together.
‘All right,’ Paige said with forced cheer, as they finally pulled into a driveway.
‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
Eavie gave Oliver an encouraging smile as he helped her out of the van, which made him suspect he looked as upset as he felt.
They had arrived at a stone manor house, and Paige gestured them through an intricately carved gate and into a pretty courtyard surrounded by flower bushes.
The wooden table in the centre held two bottles of champagne in ice buckets.
The air was hot and sticky, more suffocating than it had been since Oliver had arrived on the island, having seemingly grown even warmer during the ride.
‘Just give us a moment to check camera angles.’ Paige gestured to the two cameramen coming through the gate.
‘You can sit, we’ll get the establishing shots later.
I think we should jump right into it.’
She glanced at Oliver.
He didn’t meet her eye, but he followed her directive.
Eavie sat across from him and Imogen took the place next to her.
Declan hesitated for a moment before pulling out the chair beside Oliver’s and slouching into it.
He looked like he was steeling himself for a few hours of torture.
‘This is nice,’ Imogen commented.
‘Much prettier than the last date, don’t you think, Oliver?’
‘Er – yeah, very nice,’ he said.
The longer he sat, the more on edge he felt; the sun was like a spotlight on him, as though he was about to perform but had no idea of the routine.
‘I guess they grouped the four of us together for optimal awkwardness,’ Eavie said, with a small smile.
Oliver started. ‘What do you mean?’
Imogen gave him a curious look.
‘I think she’s referring to our date.’
She turned to Eavie.
‘You don’t have anything to worry about, babes.
I don’t fancy men who are clearly smitten with someone else.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Oliver ran a hand through his hair without looking at Declan.
Paige ended her consultation with the cameramen and walked over.
‘Everyone ready?’ She looked for confirmation from Declan, who had been staring at the table.
‘Yeah,’ he said, bringing his head up and giving her a bright smile, slipping effortlessly into his performance.
‘Ready.’
‘Rolling!’ Paige called, stepping out of frame again.
‘This is so gorgeous,’ Imogen said, her dreamy gaze wandering around the courtyard.
‘Very romantic,’ Eavie agreed, with a look to Oliver.
He nodded enthusiastically.
‘Great spot.’
Declan snorted softly by his side but said nothing.
Imogen reached forwards to open a bottle of champagne, pouring a glass for each of them.
Oliver raised his in a wordless toast, taking a sip.
‘So, Eavie,’ he said, ‘dancing for Rambert. What’s it like?’
Imogen groaned. ‘Please, no career talk. If I say one more word about fashion, I’ll never sew again.’
Oliver blinked at her, losing his footing.
‘Did you have something else in mind?’
She rested her elbows on the table and looked around pensively, giving the impression of deep thought.
‘I’m scared,’ Declan quipped, and Oliver bit back a smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
‘How about this?’ Imogen said, giving each of them a deliberate look.
‘If you had to give up your current career, what would you do instead?’
‘That’s tricky,’ Eavie said.
‘I guess, practically, I would want to use my degree. But it’s in art history, so I don’t know if it would do me much good on the job market.’
Imogen pointed an accusatory finger at her.
‘No practical thinking allowed.’
Eavie laughed.
‘Okay, I suppose I’d want to be an archaeologist. It seems like a fascinating field.’
Imogen nodded, turning to Declan.
‘What about you?’
‘I’m Declan King,’ he said, giving a short laugh.
‘Can’t be anyone else.’
Oliver rolled his eyes.
‘I’d be a lion tamer, I think,’ Imogen announced.
‘I love a good top hat.’
‘Ooh,’ Eavie said, delighted.
‘I think you’d smash that.’
Oliver turned back to Declan, unable to help himself.
‘Sorry, I don’t think that’s the point of the question.’
Declan’s expression was infuriatingly pleasant.
‘I dunno, mate. What would you do?’ Oliver’s mind drew a blank, and he said nothing.
‘Guess you never came up with a plan B, then?’ Declan said, with a hint of irony.
Before Oliver could reply in kind, Imogen took control of the conversation again.
‘Next question,’ she said.
‘What’s your favourite spot in London?’
‘Easy,’ Oliver said, glad for the reminder to not antagonise Declan, ‘the V Oliver felt a pang of unease.
Declan was a bit too pleased with himself now.
‘That’s sweet,’ Eavie said, her cheeks reddening, ‘but of course I do. You can’t be a dancer and not have lost out on a gig before.’
Declan pressed on with a wide smile, eyes still locked on Eavie.
‘Bet you don’t lose out on the blokes, though.
Not looking like that.’
Eavie shot a confused glance between Declan and Oliver, seemingly waiting for someone to explain to her what exactly was going on.
Oliver turned to Imogen, hoping for support.
Her eyebrow was raised, but she said nothing.
‘Could you not?’ Oliver asked tightly, hoping Declan would realise he had touched on a nerve and lay off.
Declan didn’t heed the warning.
‘Calm down. I’m just getting to know her,’ he said in that same grating tone, giving Oliver a friendly slap on the back.
Oliver winced. They hadn’t touched since the night they had shared a bed, and he couldn’t think about that now.
‘It’s not called Summer of Friends .’
Eavie frowned at Imogen, as if unsure of how to proceed without offending anyone at the table.
Oliver couldn’t blame her; he was still holding out hope that Paige would interrupt at any moment.
If this continued any longer, he didn’t know what he’d do.
‘Hear, hear!’ Imogen said, breaking the silence and moving her glass to clink with Declan’s abandoned one.
She didn’t look put out by Declan’s attention shifting to Eavie, but rather wildly entertained by the unfolding events.
At the sound of the colliding champagne flutes, Declan seemed to recall that he hadn’t had his second drink.
He poured himself another, gulping it down as the rest of them stared at him, then leaning towards Eavie.
‘You know, I’ve always fancied dancers.
You lot have the most incredible bodies.’
Oliver felt a sinking loss of control, and that same sense of impending rejection that had accompanied his short-lived relationships with Maeve and Zoe.
Here was Declan yet again messing with Oliver’s chances.
Even though he had a perfectly solid option in Imogen, even though he was supposedly heartbroken over Zoe, even though he had nearly kissed Oliver, he was still pursuing Eavie.
Oliver made to stand, and in the process, his knee touched Declan’s under the table.
He nearly jumped out of his skin.
‘Mate, everything okay?’ Declan asked, grinning as though Oliver had told a particularly funny joke.
Oliver couldn’t keep it together, between the accidental touch and the discordant smile on Declan’s face.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he yelled, standing fully now.
Declan’s grin, if anything, grew wider at the explosion, as though he had been hoping for it.
‘Language!’ Paige called, and the ringing in Oliver’s ears quieted a bit.
‘Let’s take ten,’ she said, and Oliver flinched away from a touch on his arm before realising it was Paige trying to steer him away from the table.
He allowed her to pull him, not paying attention to where they were going.
He tried to take a deep breath, and found it stuck in his chest. They were inside the house now, in what looked like an abandoned dining room with a camera set-up.
It was clear the producers had designated it as the interview room for the day.
Paige deposited him into a chair and kneeled in front of him.
‘Oliver, what’s going on?’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
he asked, his voice coming out hollow.
‘He’s the one who was being a prick back there, but I’m the one who has to be talked to, is that right?’
‘Hey,’ Paige said soothingly, ‘I’m talking to you because you’re upset and I care about you.’
‘Oh, sure,’ he replied, anger flaring in his chest again.
‘But you’re the one who had the idea to put me and Declan on a double date right now, aren’t you?’
He found that he was standing again, though he didn’t remember making the decision to do so.
Paige looked into his eyes, but he couldn’t read her expression.
‘You know the audience responds to you and Declan together. That’s all it was.
And you’re going to come out of this situation looking fantastic, by the way.
You should be thanking me.’
‘Right,’ Oliver said sarcastically.
‘Remember,’ Paige said, laying a calming hand on his shoulder, ‘you care about this opportunity. Remember what you care about, okay? And please , ’ she said, her tone sharpening, ‘take into consideration that I’m not the one flirting with Eavie.
If you’re angry, be angry with Declan, not me.’
‘Right,’ Oliver said again, not thinking about what she said.
The only part that stuck in his mind was remember what you care about.
The rest was a bit fuzzy around the edges.
‘Okay.’
Paige gave him a long, concerned look.
‘Take a few minutes to collect yourself. You don’t need to be back right away.
Bathroom’s down the hall.’
With one last encouraging smile, Paige left the room.
Oliver felt unnerved in the interview room, even with the camera off.
The thought of being recorded immediately set him on edge.
The bathroom would be better.
He could splash some water on his face, put his cheek against the cold ceramic, look at himself in the mirror and think .
The door to the bathroom creaked as Oliver swung it open.
He saw the silver feet of a clawfoot bath, the green tile backsplash and an ornate light fixture shining down over a smudged mirror.
He noticed all of those details before he noticed Declan standing in front of the mirror, an inscrutable expression on his face.
Declan had been looking into the drain of the sink, but as Oliver entered, he glanced up and their eyes met in the glass.
His expression softened into something pitiable, between the apology in his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks and the downwards turn of his mouth.
Oliver was not in the mood to pity him.
‘Come to yell at me?’ Declan asked hoarsely, turning to face him.
‘I haven’t decided,’ Oliver said, taking a step forwards and instinctively closing the door behind him.
‘I mean, what were you doing out there? It seems to me as though as soon as I’m with a girl, you have to have her.
Like you can’t stand to let me have anything.’
His voice was getting louder.
‘That’s not what’s happ—’ Declan started.
‘I thought you were on my fucking side here,’ Oliver said, cutting him off.
‘And now I have no one, and I feel like I’m going mad.
Between you and Paige, I don’t know what to think any more.
I don’t know what’s real .’
He waited for Declan to say something, but he kept his head down, staring at the tiled floor.
Oliver felt exhausted even looking at him.
‘What are we doing?’
Declan’s hands fisted by his sides.
‘I don’t know! I don’t have any answers.
I’m sorry, okay? I’ve fucked this all up and I’m sorry.’
‘What are you sorry for?’ Oliver demanded.
‘I don’t think you even know what I want you to apologise for.’
‘I’m sorry that I—’ When Declan met Oliver’s eye, he broke off, looking down.
‘It’s my fault. All of it.’
Oliver took a staggering step forwards before realising what he had done.
He was as close to Declan as he had been under the duvet.
Declan’s eyes pored over his face and Oliver had the feeling that he was thinking about the exact same moment.
The circles under his eyes gave him a wounded appearance.
Oliver wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, to feel the roughness there.
Something about an unkempt Declan made him want to lean closer, to run his hand through his thick hair, to feel the drum of his heart.
He inhaled deeply, struck by the scent of spearmint.
‘I should’ve…’ Declan’s lips twitched, and Oliver lost any of the composure he had left.
He leaned down and kissed him.
Declan made a small noise of surprise and Oliver almost lost his nerve and pulled back, but then Declan’s hand slotted into Oliver’s hair, pulling at the roots.
Declan let out a broken groan, deepening the kiss, nipping at Oliver’s bottom lip, and Oliver sighed into his mouth, relieved at not having horribly misjudged the situation.
He gripped Declan’s shoulders tightly, worried he would fall without the support, and pulled his body harder against him.
All the anger and confusion of the last several days, of the last several weeks, drained out of Oliver at the press of their lips.
Every glance, every touch, every word that they had spoken to each other finally clicked into place, and he could see it all perfectly in his head.
He felt foolish, like he should’ve noticed sooner – their meeting on the plane was always going to lead here, to this moment.
Declan stumbled forwards, unsteady, pushing Oliver up against the bathroom door, his stubble scratching Oliver’s cheeks.
His body recognised the differences of kissing a man, the strength behind Declan’s grip, the surprising smoothness of his lips, and yet Oliver was struck by the sameness of it all, the familiar swoop in his belly and racing of his heart, feelings he thought had left him for America.
A low moan rumbled out of Declan’s chest as he pushed impossibly closer, the carefully constructed facade that was Declan King crumbling as they pitched against each other, thigh catching hip bone, hands grasping bare skin, lips brushing jaw.
There was a desperation in the way their mouths slotted together.
Oliver couldn’t breathe.
He shifted his hand to Declan’s chest, pushing against it gently.
Declan pulled away and made to take a step back, but Oliver stopped him, holding him there, their foreheads touching as he struggled to draw in air.
When he finally glanced up, Declan’s eyes were on him, a slight smile playing at his lips.
‘Can you apologise now?’ Oliver said, giddy laughter climbing its way up his throat.
Something about snogging Declan, and him having that ridiculous smile on his face, made it impossible for him to collect himself.
‘Yes,’ Declan said, voice low.
‘I’m so’ – he dipped his head, kissing Oliver’s jaw – ‘so’ – he placed a kiss on his throat where his pulse beat rapidly – ‘so’ – he mouthed at Oliver’s collarbone – ‘sorry I didn’t kiss you the other night.’
‘I forgive you,’ Oliver said, leaning in to kiss him again.
Declan wrapped his arm around him, hands sneaking into the back pockets of his shorts, and Oliver broke off with a groan.
‘We can’t.’ It killed him to say it, but he knew someone would be looking for them before too long.
‘You go first,’ Declan said, disentangling himself.
‘Right.’ Oliver said, lightheaded, his heart hammering in his chest. He gave Declan one last, long look before exiting the bathroom and walking back towards the garden.
Oliver’s legs felt like they were melting into the ground.
He stumbled down the steps and saw Eavie and Imogen chatting away at the table as though nothing of consequence had occurred.
Paige was having a hushed conversation with Brian, writing something hastily on her clipboard.
‘Hi,’ Oliver said, trying to sound like he was recovering from an angry outburst and not from snogging a man in the bathroom, ‘I’m ready to continue the scene.’
‘Oliver!’ Paige said, with an encouraging smile.
‘That was quick.’
Was it?
He had no concept of how much time had passed between him entering the bathroom and now.
‘Where’s Declan?’ he asked, congratulating himself on the neutral delivery and for remembering he wasn’t supposed to know where Declan was.
‘In the bathroom,’ Imogen said, squinting at him.
‘Oh. Well, I guess I’ll sit, then,’ he said, pulling out his chair and half-falling in.
Eavie studied him. ‘Are you okay? That was a tough situation, with Declan—’ She broke off, unsure of herself.
‘I understand why you were upset.’
Oliver nodded, trying to remember how to frown.
‘It was fucked up. But, you know, we’re mates, and sometimes mates yell at each other, right?’
‘So true,’ Imogen said.
‘Sometimes you just have to release that tension.’
‘Hey there, Declan,’ Brian said, looking towards the manor.
‘All right?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ Declan replied from somewhere behind Oliver.
‘I’m sorry for being such an ass.’
He laid a hand on Oliver’s shoulder unannounced, and he started.
‘Please forgive me?’ Oliver looked into Declan’s eyes, which were filled with mirth.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Happens.’