45. Megan
Chapter 45
Megan
He wants to say hi to his dad before we go, which is fair, since it is his party, but all the men in this room look the same to me. Stuffy, arrogant, and entitled. All of them except Ollie.
Ollie, my fake boyfriend, who’s playing the part so well I’m going to have a hard time untangling these feelings when we leave.
“There he is,” he says, pointing to where his sisters huddle together.
A waitress steps in front of us, offering fresh glasses of champagne, and we look at each other, shrug, and take one each. With his palm pressed flat across my lower back, he guides me through the throng, but as we approach, I hear one of the blonde sisters gossiping loudly.
“I don’t know what she sees in him, really, and I can’t believe he’s still refusing to get his hair cut. It’s revolting.”
“ Absolutely revolting,” the other blonde echoes.
“Is he still planning to live in a van?” Caroline asks. “What's he going to do, shove her in a roof box?”
The three of them collapse into giggles, shredding my last nerve. I push my way into their circle.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry for eavesdropping, but it’s hard not to when you’re being so loud and indiscreet about my boyfriend.”
They cast their eyes over my body, not a hint of shame that they’ve been caught bullying.
“He’s our brother, we can say whatever we like,” Caroline scoffs as she takes a small sip of her champagne. “We’ve known him his whole life. You’ve known him five minutes.”
There may be an element of truth in her exaggeration, but I can guarantee I've spent more time with the real Ollie, than they ever have. These past few months have taken me completely by surprise, and having him as my roommate has been a joy I don't think I could ever have manifested. Our nights on the sofa are the best part of my day, and I've lost count of the number of times one or both of us has slipped off it in a fit of giggles.
Thanks to Ollie, I'm eating better, sleeping better, and feeling generally much happier. He might be the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm not going to stand here and let them treat him this way.
“You might think you know Ollie, but I’m confident you don’t know him as the man he is today. And that’s your loss. You could have a beautiful relationship with him if you weren’t so busy being cruel and spiteful, and obsessed with how he lives his life when really it’s none of your business.”
Ollie’s mum appears with a man who, I presume, is his dad, no doubt wondering what the commotion is all about. The crowd around us falls into a hush, but I don’t care. If they’re going to loudly belittle him, then I’m going to defend him even louder.
“What’s going on here?” Annabelle asks, and the sisters spread out, making space for their parents to join our circle.
“Mrs Mortimer, I was just telling your daughters how wonderful Ollie is, and how much I love my life with him. I know he might not have followed the path you and your husband hoped for him, but I want you to know he’s doing a fantastic job of following his own. He’s hard-working, dedicated, and there’s nothing he can’t do if he puts his mind to it.”
I should probably stop before it starts to sound like I’m writing a school report, but I barely pause for breath in case one of them tries to argue with me.
“He is thoughtful, and kind, truly abundant in the qualities that really matter. He’s a fantastic cook, a brilliant friend, and just a thoroughly decent man. I’m incredibly lucky to know him.”
For my final blow, I turn towards the sister whose comments sent me off on this rant in the first place. “And I happen to think his hair is one of the most gorgeous things about him. So you’re wrong on that front too, Jessica.”
“I’m Lauren,” she huffs and I press my lips together to hold back my natural instinct to apologise.
Instead of letting go, Ollie squeezes my hand tightly, so I press up on my toes to plant a kiss on his rosy cheek. If I’ve embarrassed him, I don’t care. He deserves to know how decent he is, and these people, his family for goodness' sake, clearly won't be the ones to tell him.
“Anyway,” I say, turning my attention on Ollie’s parents before they find yet another guest who they deem to be more important than their son. “Thank you so much for having us, and congratulations again. Hope you have another forty wonderful years together!”
I clink my champagne against Annabelle’s, then drain it fast before spinning away, dragging Ollie behind me. I weave through the crowd, dumping my glass, and pushing through a door to an empty hallway I hope will lead us out of this hellhole.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“We’re not spending another second here with them talking to you like that. I’ve never seen such awful behaviour in my life, and I’m a teacher, so I’ve seen a lot of—”
My words are cut off as Ollie hauls me backwards, spinning me to his chest. One hand loops around my waist, and the other cups the back of my head, holding me against him as his mouth crashes into mine.
My entire body pulses with adrenaline, and it takes a second to realise that Ollie is kissing me, and I’m kissing him back.
He walks me back against the wall, his tongue teasing my mouth open, and my resolve comes crashing down. When I moan softly, his fingers grab hold of my hips and my hands find their way into his hair, pulling his mouth harder against mine until he’s moaning too.
He tastes like champagne and something that is so uniquely him.
Ollie tugs at my hair, tipping my head back, opening me up for a trail of kisses across my collarbone and up to my ear. My knee lifts and he hikes it up to his waist, driving against me until I’m crushed between him and the wall. The sensation is incredible, and whatever I’ve been searching for is nothing compared to this. I feel a surge of heat between my legs and I know this is the thing I need more than anything in the world.
Him.
When he thrusts up again, my nails rake over his scalp and down the back of his neck until he groans deeply, sliding his hands lower, filling them with my backside. Effortlessly, he lifts me higher and my ankles lock around his waist as he nips my lower lip between his teeth.
Oh my God.
The pressure between my legs builds, and I think he’s going to make me come right here, up against the wall with all of my clothes still on. If this is what he can do with just his kiss, I can’t imagine what he’d be capable of if we were the only two people in the world.
But we’re not the only people in the world, and we’re definitely not the only two in this house. From somewhere down the corridor, a firm cough snaps us out of our lust-filled stupor. Ollie freezes, his eyes locking with mine, but instead of backing away, he presses harder against me, one arm above my head, shielding my body from the view of our unwelcome companion.
“Fucking Harold,” he whispers, craning his neck to look in both directions, but it seems we’re alone again.
Ollie presses his forehead to my cheek, and we fight for the same air. I’m certain I’d melt into a puddle were he not still pinning me with his hips, my dress hiked up around my belly. It feels like forever until he lowers me, then only a millisecond for reality to hit.
He looks everywhere but my face as he puts me back together, wiggling my dress back down and tucking my tangled hair behind my ears. He drags his thumb across my lower lip to wipe away the evidence of our kiss, and my head thumps back against the wallpaper that probably cost more than my car.
“What was that?” I ask, and when finally our eyes meet, it’s too intense. I can’t handle him staring at me with so much heat in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he says. My gaze lowers just in time to find him adjusting the front of his suit trousers. “You didn’t have to defend me or lie about who we are to each other, but thank you.”
Thank you?
Flowers or chocolate would have been sufficient, not the most soul-shattering kiss I’ve ever received in my life. I know it’s been a while, but it’s never been like that.
“Can we—”
“Pretend that never happened?” he interrupts, raking his hands through his hair. His words hit like stepping into a shower after someone’s used up all the hot water, and the flurry of goosebumps that prickle my skin are no longer the good kind. "Yeah, of course."
I was going to say ‘can we do it again’ . Pretending it never happened is probably for the best, but I already know I’ll never be able to forget it.