54. Megan
Chapter 54
Megan
The next day, I drive home from work on autopilot, already unlocking the main door to my building before remembering I was supposed to keep going up the high street, and onwards to Mum and Dad’s house across town.
I think about turning around, but I’d love to see Ollie, even if it’s just for five minutes. I’ll pretend I’m here to pick up clean clothes or something.
Music in my bedroom is blaring, and I find him up a ladder singing Don't Stop Believing while he fixes new ceiling panels with a nail gun.
He doesn’t notice me, but I’m quite content to lean against the doorframe just watching. He’s in a sleeveless vest and cargo shorts, a flash of stomach skin on display every time he reaches his arms up high. The safety goggles don’t really do it for me, but the thighs sure do.
“What are you looking at?” he yells when he finally spots me.
“The ceiling,” I lie, earning me one of his beautiful laughs.
“It’s OK, you can look all you like, you little perv.” He hops off the ladder, downs tools, and turns off the music. “Sorry, I’m sweaty and gross. I’ve been at this all day.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, fisting the front of his vest and tugging him towards me.This gorgeous man makes me feel bolder than ever.
Ollie lets me slide into his arms, and I fit right there against his broad chest, my head finding a home on his shoulder. The tension I've been carrying all day slips out with a heavy sigh.
“Are you OK?”
“It’s just been a long week.”
“It's only Tuesday,” he laughs. “What are those dickheads doing now?”
Immediately, I feel defensive, looking up at him with a frown. “Enough of that, thank you. There are no bad children, only bad choices.”
“OK, but what did they do?”
“They’ve just been testing my patience. One of my classes insisted on doing all their Shakespeare reading in Southern US accents. Apparently it’s a trending thing, but I’m already on thin ice for veering off curriculum. And the younger ones have started flipping me off, but they use their ring fingers so I can’t technically tell them off for it.”
“Those cheeky fuckers.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Last year, I coached some students on their fear of public speaking and I stupidly told them I hate clowns, so two of them came to class in costumes. Noses and all.”
I feel a puff of air against my hair, and his chest shakes against my cheek.
“It’s not funny,” I whine, and he wraps his arms even tighter around me. “I really hate clowns.”
“I know it’s not. I’m sorry.” He pulls back and plants a gentle kiss against the corner of my mouth. “This was a nice surprise. I was going to work on the van tonight, but can you stick around and I'll cook dinner for you instead? I'm nearly finished here.”
This was supposed to be a quick hello, but right now there’s nothing I want more than to eat my dinner with him and pretend everything is normal again.
“You carry on, I'll cook.”
“You sure?”
“It’s the least I can do while you’ve been working all day.”
In the kitchen, I prepare ingredients for taco bowls, something quick we can eat on the sofa, since the dining table is still covered in the contents of my bedroom.
Ollie appears behind me while I'm dishing everything up. He presses a kiss to my shoulder and inhales deeply. “This smells amazing.”
I don’t know if he’s talking about the food or my neck, but when his arm bands around my waist, I wrap my hand around it and keep him there. He smells of sweat and plasterboard, a combination that I didn't think I'd ever find sexy, except I do when it's him.
“Are you ready to eat?”
“Gonna grab a quick shower and then I’m all yours.”
He gives my bum a squeeze before he goes, and fighting back a smile is pointless. Ollie's energy is infectious. Even when he's exhausted and things aren't going his way, he's still full of warmth and sunshine.
There's an ease to life with him, and for the briefest moment, I allow myself to imagine how things could be if this was a more permanent situation. We'd take care of each other after long days at work, offload the boring stuff as we changed into comfy clothes. Sometimes he'd have me back in our bed before I had the chance to get dressed, sometimes we'd laugh and joke around over dinner and the sex part would come later. Soft and slow after brushing our teeth side by side and smiling at each other in the mirror.
My thoughts drift to visions of us going for evening drives in the van to watch sunsets, and that brings my delusions crashing back to reality.
He was going to work on his van— his dream —tonight, and here I am, exhausted and needy and getting in his way.