69. Megan
Chapter 69
Megan
Ollie scoops my hair off my neck and bends to trails a row of kisses along the side of it.
“I have so much marking to do,” I whine.
Our dining table is covered in papers I’d love to sweep to the floor in a fit of passion, but acting up is no joke.
Mrs Malcolm’s classes have been split amongst the rest of the department staff, and with our eldest students on exam leave, we’re making the schedule work, but somehow covering two roles feels like five. Nobody else is working late into the evenings like I am, and all of this takes me away from what I love most about teaching; engaging young people in a love of literature and language.
May has passed in the blink of an eye, and there have been several occasions where our school caretaker has had to kick me out of the building so he can lock up. Even when I bring work home, I don’t get it done any quicker, certainly not with distractions like neck kisses.
“I’ll mark you ,” he says, gently nipping with his teeth and latching onto me. I soften into him, then come to my senses and pull away.
“If I have to wear a turtleneck in this heat, the kids will never let me live it down.”
“OK, Miss,” he teases, then catches himself, noticing the horrified look on my face. “Oops, not going there. What do you fancy for dinner?”
“I grabbed pizzas. I hope that’s OK? I just needed something quick.”
“That’s perfect. I actually have a bunch of jobs to crack on with in the van, so I’ll give you some space to work and see you later?”
“Sure,” I nod.
The only sound is my red pen scribbling in the margins, and I look up when I realise he’s paused in the doorway. Ollie leans against the frame, a soft smile on his face.
“What is it?” I ask, and he sighs heavily.
“You look really pretty today. I’m going to miss this view.”
When the front door finally closes behind him, I press the heels of my palms against my eyes as if that will somehow stop the tears from coming.
In darkness, there is only us. My body, his, so many orgasms. In daylight there is breakfast and toothpaste kisses, his hands on my hips, my hands in his hair. ‘Have a great day’ , ‘what do you want for dinner’ , and ‘see you tonight’ .
This is a relationship in all but name, and it’s about to end. We both know there’s this unspoken deadline, and whenever he mentions the van, there’s a tightness in my chest. On the worst nights, I wish he’d just go, drive off and leave me to get over him already. Then his hands find my skin in his sleep and I take it all back.
We’ve stopped watching van build videos in favour of swapping orgasms instead, and the lack of sleep is catching up with me. I’ve been too busy to see my friends, I skipped book club for the first time ever, and I haven’t managed any yoga in weeks. And on day one of my period, I’m an exhausted, hormonal wreck.
When he goes, I’ll get my sleep schedule back on track, and all my healthy habits, and finally start getting my life in order. Except the thought of going back to a life without Ollie is unbearable.
I take his dinner out to the van, and by the time he comes in, I’m ready for bed. He finds me in the kitchen making ginger tea to soothe my cramps.
His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me close to his chest and just holds me there. All our hugs last longer these days. If this were any other night, I’d want him to slip one inside my clothes and feel me up, but my breasts are tender and my stomach hurts.
“You smell so good,” he says, taking a deep sniff of my hair. “Your bed or mine?”
“I think I should sleep alone tonight,” I say, my focus fully trained on squeezing the tea-bag against the side of the mug.
He stiffens behind me and takes a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Oh, sure, no problem.” He stands there for a while, and I’m afraid to turn around and see the look of disappointment on his face. “Is everything OK?”
“It’s just my time of the month, so I can’t, you know, for a few days. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Do you think I only want to share a bed with you for sex?”
“Well, that is what we do.”
“But that’s not all we do.”
He takes my tea and sets it on the counter, pulling me back into his arms. His thumb and forefinger tip my chin until avoiding his gaze becomes impossible. My heart thumps in my chest and tears prick at my lashes.
His eyes roam my face, and one corner of his mouth curls up as he admires me. To be seen by Ollie is like opening the curtains to the morning sun. He makes me feel warm and alive, even when I feel hollow inside.
“We talk, we laugh, we kiss, we cuddle. You stroke my hair, and do a terrible job of keeping your hands to yourself, and then we end up fucking, but can you blame me? Sex is only a small part of why I love sharing a bed with you. You know that, right?”
My last period thankfully coincided with his trip to get the window installed in the van and a few late nights at work, so I managed to get through that one without drawing attention to it. Any time I’ve mentioned it to other men, they’ve acted like it’s a huge inconvenience. Yet here is Ollie with more evidence that even though he’s young, he is wise beyond his years.
“If you’d be more comfortable with a whole bed to stretch out in, that’s fine. I won’t be offended.”
“You’re not disappointed?”
“You’ll never disappoint me, Megan,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I know he means it. This man has seen me at my silliest, and my saddest, when I’m pushing myself, and in my weakest moments. He caught me drunkenly searching for sperm donors, for goodness’ sake, and he’s never once walked out or looked away or made me feel like I’ve done something wrong.
Living with him has been the most unexpected gift, and I see now that pretending it would be nothing more than a temporary thing was completely delusional. Ollie shows up for me in ways I never knew I needed.
He shows up full stop.
Not because he has to, but because he wants to.
He might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and my heart hurts to think I might never find something this good again.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll be in my bed after my shower, and if you change your mind, you know where to find me. And if not, then I hope you have a great sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gives me the sweetest, most tender kiss. Just his lips on mine, his thumb and forefinger lifting my chin, keeping me there as long as possible. I squeeze my eyelids shut so he can’t see me cry, but crying is inevitable tonight, so I opt to do it once he’s in the shower where he can’t see or hear me.
My pillow still bears the scent of his shampoo from when he slept here last night. The reminder of him, when he’s literally just on the other side of the wall, is torturous, and I know I’m doing it to myself.
I briefly wonder how long the smell will linger when he leaves. Will I rip the band-aid off and wash everything immediately, removing all traces that he was ever here? Or will I fold him away, destined to live my life taking secret huffs to remind myself of what we briefly had?
Forever isn’t on the cards for us, and once he’s gone, I’m sure I will regret putting distance between us when we had the chance to be close. He’s made his position clear, and the next step is all down to me.
Even though it’ll only lead to more heartache, I slip out of bed and pad down the hallway, finding his door left ajar. I gently push it open in case he’s sleeping, but find him sitting up in bed, reading with his shirt off. This is the view I’ll miss most.
“There’s my girl,” he says, peelings back the covers. I’m under them in seconds, lured in by the softness, the warmth, him. He ditches his book and turns out the light. Snuggling lower, he curls himself around me, dragging me closer and splaying his warm hand against my lower belly.
“Finally.” He sighs against my hair, deep and happy. “I was missing you.”