Twenty-One
MIA
I’m finishing painting the hallway in Oliver’s house while he finishes a light workout.
He has a fight tonight and he wasn’t going to go down there and workout but I made him.
I can paint on my own without a babysitter.
I also prefer it. I don’t work well in groups because I have a big tendency to want to do everything on my own.
And his home is the type of quiet that is comforting.
There aren’t the odd cold drafts. Each room is lit in sunlight and warmth.
The floors don’t give the eerie creeks, they feel solid and ready to take on the day.
And the fresh coat of paint brings another layer of comfort to the open space.
I take my roller and paintbrush to the sink to clean up.
I have one of my favorite playlist playing and I don’t even think twice about dancing around the kitchen.
Something I have only recently found therapeutic.
Bare feet on bare floors and my favorite songs vibrating through my whole body.
It’s freeing in a way that I’ve never had in a home before.
Always order and schedules and fittings and dinner parties.
Something so simple shouldn’t awaken something so buried beneath years of compressed yearning.
All I want is to feel everything without having to suppress the constant worry of upsetting everyone.
I turn to place the now clean rolling brush on a towel but hit a solid wall of a man instead.
Oliver’s hands instantly steady me by holding firm to my arms, his eyes raking over me mildly amused.
Then I realize I’m still covered in paint splatters, in my t-shirt, and my hair is more wild than usual.
“Is that T-Pain?” His voice carries over the music still playing through my headphones.
Reaching up to take them off my ears and letting them rest on my neck, I smile. “Don’t hate on my music. It’s soulful.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “If your soul is laced in sex and good times.” Then he cocks his head before giving me a shit eating grin. “Actually that does suit you. Please carry on dancing around my kitchen.” He motions to the empty space.
He’s dressed in sweats and an open zip up hoodie.
Nothing else. The ends of his wavy curls are still drenched in sweat and the mint from his muscle rub is permeating the air around us.
We still haven’t had a conversation about why we keep spending our Saturdays together like this.
But I think it’s because we both don’t want to pop the perfect bubble of playfulness and contentment when we are around each other.
It’s satisfying, the lack of need for conversation or entertaining each other.
“I actually need to shower. Is it okay for me to get ready here?” I give him the respect of asking, but I already brought my stuff and planned to anyway.
“Guest shower is still yours. I even got cherry body wash for you this time.” I feel the surprise take over my face before I can control it.
His eyes soften, “I just figured that’s what you used.
And I wouldn’t dream of making you stay covered in paint splatters.
We both know how much you love to dress up and look good.
” He takes a cursory glance over my entire body before meeting my eyes.
“You think I look good?” I grin.
“Everyone thinks so.” He states it, no ounce of jealousy or insecurity found in his voice.
“You’re creepily sweet when no one is looking, Oliver West.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“You are.” He says so softly that I almost miss it. My head tilts in confusion and he lets out a breathless chuckle. “You’re looking. And you deserve for someone to be a step ahead of you too.” He steps forward to gently spin me around to face the back hallway. “Go take a shower. Get ready.”
“You’re going to hate my outfit.” I tease.
“Wear whatever the fuck you want. You’re coming to watch me fight and you demand your own respect.
I’m excited for your outfit.” I feel my chest get heated at his words.
He nudges me along the hallway though, grabbing a towel as he walks me to the bathroom.
I’ve been pushing every boundary I can while I’ve been in town.
I threw every curated piece of expectation held against me into a fiery furnace.
My outfits are my greatest source of expression and rebellion from the silk cloth I’ve been wrapped in since birth. I hate expectations, they feel limited.
The shower is scolding hot, the way I prefer it every time.
And there isn’t just cherry body wash in here now, he still left his soap.
I sit on the decision for a few long moments before I remember the way he lingered near me when I used his soap last time.
Pushing Oliver is my favorite thing. The decision is easy.
I realize that I never got my stuff out of my car before I got in the shower. I text Oliver to bring me my bag from my car. I prep my playlist as I clean off the mirror. A soft knock on the door comes a few minutes later. I wrap the towel around my body before answering.
“What’s this playlist?” He asks as he walks right behind me to sit on the toilet seat before handing me my bag. “Hot girls know they are hot.” He reads the title of the playlist out loud and scrolls through the songs.
“Don’t hate on my playlist.” I warn him again.
“I’d never. I love that you are a walking self affirmation.” His eyes meet mine before I watch his jaw twitch. “You didn’t use the body wash I got you.” His voice is even a little tight.
“I like yours more. Makes my skin extra soft.” It doesn’t.
Not even a little bit. He doesn’t need to know that I just like the look on his face right now enough to not care about the hydration of my skin.
He stands and places my phone back down.
I stop him as he is walking back out of the bathroom.
“Oliver?” I swallow thickly with the question I’ve been craving to ask him.
“Hmm?”
I look up at him through the mirror. “Do you think your mom would be upset over all the changes we’ve been making to her house?
” I have been so restrained with not asking him about his mom because I know that his knowledge of her is sparse.
I also know that he always seems to be chasing her ghost. There’s a reason out of the three of them, he wanted this house.
And as validating as it is to be creating something new while highlighting the old, I worry he is going to feel like we are erasing a part of her.
He brings his hands up to my shoulders and rub gentle circles, helping the tension dissipate.
He ducks his head down to ghost his lips over my skin before squeezing a little tighter.
“She would love that someone was pouring love back into the home.” He stands up taller than he seemed before and he smiles at me.
“Dad always said she was a huge music lover. Had a song for everything. So she would probably love that you fill each room with a new playlist.” I feel his thumb tap on the top of my shoulder before he exits the bathroom, leaving me feeling even more conflicted with his answer than before I asked the question.
The whole moment was so tender and heavy at the same time.
“You love to make men suffer.” Oliver comments as he helps me out of the car.
I wanted to take his bike, but he has a conscience when it comes to me riding his bike and not being properly dressed for it.
He holds my hand tightly in his to help cross the gravel parking lot easier by towing me behind him so he can feel a weak spot in the rocks before I step there.
“I told you that you would hate my outfit.” I knew what I was wearing the minute he told me that he had a fight and invited me to go.
No one knows me here. I don’t have to worry about judging eyes or a bad comment getting back to anyone.
I found this black dress in a store that I made AJ go with me to the other week.
Black is not my normal color, but I don’t care.
It has an open string laced up each side of the dress that starts off small at the side and only gets wider as it goes down and more open lace up string straight down the middle exposing my full chest and most of my stomach.
So it covers almost everything and nothing at the same time.
I did pair it with my favorite set of heels though, which is why he is having to help me across the gravel.
“I love your outfit.” He corrects me as he greets Eli at the front door, never letting go of my hand.
Eli barely glances at my outfit but I see the small raise of his eyebrow as he looks at his brother.
“I have to go and talk to Tucker real quick. Take her to the back rooms and I’ll meet you there.
Don’t lose her.” His tone is so serious that I laugh.
“I’m not going to get lost.” Both their heads swing to me at the same time, the same doubtful look on their face showcasing those triplet genes. I throw my hands up in surrender before squeaking out, “I won’t get lost.”
Oliver is less convinced than before. A set of arms wrap around me, nearly toppling me over.
“Careful, dumbass!” Oliver catches me as I stumble forward a few steps. The missing anger in his words and heavy annoyance confirms it's his other brother and not some stranger.
“Hey sunshine.” He sloppily kisses my cheek before letting go, completely ignoring the wrath of his brother.
“See. Definitely not getting lost now.” I grin at Oliver.
“I’ll meet you guys in the back. Give me ten minutes.” Oliver gives me one more quick look before disappearing around the side.
I quickly turn to face the guys with the biggest smile on my face. “No.” Eli immediately cuts me off.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
He crosses his arms and looks down at me, pursing his lips slightly. “Still no.”
“You’re the boring brother.” I groan.
“And you’re a menace.” He steps forward to glare a little harder but I can see the twitch at his lips.