Chapter 14
Dean
Not wanting another awkward interaction so soon, I’d stayed in my room after my shower the other night. Honestly, I’d been avoiding Oli as much as I could since our encounter in the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure what his deal was, but I was a little overwhelmed.
It felt like he was always around. He wanted to eat dinner together every night, and if I said no, he left me a plate all wrapped up with foil.
He texted me any time he left the house so that I’d know where he was going, and he was doing a weird walking on eggshells routine.
I wondered if I’d offended him or something. Maybe it was when I offered to help him with the internet bill. I’d dealt with my fair share of disconnected services when I was younger, so I knew the shame that came with it.
When I’d chosen to move out of the dorm, I’d been looking forward to some freedom. Privacy. Breathing room. I had my own space, but it didn’t really feel like it.
That was why I’d taken as many shifts as Remi would allow, claiming I needed the practice. He reiterated that he was going to put me on a set schedule once he trusted my abilities, but for now, he seemed to be okay with me taking the extra time.
It was also why I was in the library right now, working on the project for Mr. Pritchard’s class.
I was going through all of the survey cards, tallying up the answers.
It was tedious, but it was also insightful.
Once I was finished, Oli was supposed to evaluate the data.
He’d said some weird statistics lingo that I didn’t really understand, but his eyes had lit up as he went on about it.
“Working hard?”
I stared down at the card in my hand. Was I going crazy? Something had to be nutty up in my head.
Raising my gaze, I looked at Oli. He was standing across the table with his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
It was raining outside, but it didn’t seem to matter.
The Carhartt hoodie just added to the odd look.
It was olive green, which I wouldn’t have picked up off a rack, but I actually liked it when I saw it on him.
I must’ve taken too long to answer because he sat down and leaned his elbows on the table. When he rested his chin on his fists, he looked a bit childish.
“Dean.”
“Hi.”
His lips curved upward. “Hi there.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Would you believe me if I said studying?”
I peered around him to see if he had a backpack. He didn’t. Not a notebook or anything.
“No,” I replied.
He grunted, then leaned a little closer. “You’re avoiding me.”
“Just working a lot and studying.”
“Study at home.”
My jaw ticked, and I saw his eyes hone in on it. His face became serious as he sat back. After a deep breath, he nodded.
“I’m going to try not to spiral, okay?”
“Spiral?” I repeated. That didn’t make me feel better about anything. Was he going to go off the rails and start swinging an ax through my bedroom door?
“I have a tendency to . . .” He paused, cocking his head. “. . . overthink things. Maybe overthink isn’t the right word. It’s more like I read someone’s vibe, then make assumptions, then I run with it and start spinning out.”
“Okay . . . Why are you telling me?”
“Because I’m a communicator. I study the brain and healthy mind-body practices; communication styles and healing.
It’d be pretty disingenuous if I didn’t practice what I preach.
” He looked down at his hands, which were now folded on the table.
“And I spent a long time around people who didn’t communicate in good ways. Or at all.
“Call it a trauma response or maladjustment or me just being a freaking weirdo. It's something I can fight but can’t always win. Even though I know you’ll probably dip, I want you to understand me in the hopes that maybe you’ll give me a little grace.
” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just spit-balling. ”
While I thought about what he’d said, I started fanning the cards with my thumb. He watched the movement, and I watched him. I assumed he was aware of it, but he didn’t say anything or look at me.
“Why are you so concerned with what I think about you?” I asked.
“Because I can see you’re a good person. No, I can feel it.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued quickly. “And if a good person hates me, what’s that say about me?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
His silence made my gut twist. I didn’t think I’d given the impression that I hated him, but it was written all over his face. Even when he tried to hide, he was an open book.
“I don’t know why you think I’d leave if I knew you were struggling,” I said after a few minutes.
He shrugged again. “That’s what people do. I share, they get uncomfortable, and the cool, chill Oliver Bennett becomes someone they no longer see as fun—just one of those guys with a shitty backstory who would probably be too much work to actually befriend.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
I kicked his leg under the table. “Not you or whatever your past is. All of us have shit, man. That’s not a reason to decide not to be their friend.”
“Some people want something easy.”
“Good friendships don’t come easy. Real ones don’t.”
Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were even more green than usual, and they might’ve been shimmering. “We don’t know each other, and you think I’m weird.”
“You are weird,” I agreed. “But hell, I made the decision to move into a one-bedroom apartment with you. I don’t really care if you have some quirks.”
“Even though it makes me annoying?”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes a little. “It’s annoying because I don’t know what the hell’s going on. I thought I was the one who misspoke or something.”
“Oh.” He sat up straighter, the lightness returning to his face. “In that case, do you want to know what made me into this hot mess?”
With a laugh, I straightened the cards. “Sure, but maybe don’t tell me everything at once. Let’s just get to know each other, okay?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely.”
I started packing my stuff into my bag, then got to my feet. He followed along beside me as I headed for the exit.
“Are you going to the party this weekend?” I asked.
“No. I mean, are you?”
“Remi agreed to let me leave early.”
He was silent, which made me glance over at him. As we exited, he looked deep in thought. When he lifted his head to the sky, letting the rain fall on his face, it was impossible not to wonder what was going through his mind. Nothing, maybe. A million things, most likely.
I tapped his chest with the back of my hand to get his attention. “Do you want to come?”
“To the party?” The way he said it was so full of excitement that it all but confirmed he’d been waiting for the question. “With you?”
“Sure. We can drive together.”
He nodded quickly. “I don’t drink, so I can drive.”
“I don’t intend to get drink much, but that sounds good.”
“We can take my car. It’s nicer.”
“Well, you don’t have to be rude.”
“You know it, I know it, the world knows it. I bet the mechanic who fixed it was dying to give it a proper burial.”
I muttered something under my breath that would have my mom glaring daggers at me. Oli just laughed, then slung his arm over my shoulder as we walked.
“Don’t worry. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go if that thing craps out on you.”
“It’s in perfect condition now.”
“I’ll drive you anyway. Or maybe you should drive me. I’d look good as a passenger princess.”
I’d gotten myself into a world of weirdness with this one, that was for sure.