23. Chapter 23 #2
When another person tries to cut in, the guy denies them, waving them off.
I can’t hear what he says, but the deep timber of his voice vibrates against my spine.
Again, I know this voice. I know this person.
Desperate to keep the connection between us, I reach out, trying to bring his hand back to my body.
He complies, immediately clinging back onto me in exactly the way I crave.
That feeling thrumming through my veins intensifies, and I smirk to myself knowing that Roman is seeing all of this from behind one of the cameras in here.
I imagine whatever delusion I want. That his skin is crawling in discomfort.
I bet he’s twisted up inside, wishing I was with him instead.
He’s at home, sitting at his desk, twirling that pen anxiously as he watches me enjoy every single second that I’m not with him.
That he sees the smile on my face and wonders how I could possibly be this happy without him, because he’s devastated without me.
If only he knew that the smile I’m wearing, the first genuine one I’ve had in days, it’s not on my face because I’m no longer chained to him. It’s only there because in my head… I am with him.
The guy behind me, his hands wander up my chest before he leans forward.
“No lingerie tonight?” He yells in my ear over the music.
I instinctually freeze, my blood running cold.
My heart was already racing from all the dancing, but it’s pounding so loud now that I can’t even hear the music anymore.
All I can hear are those words repeating in my head over and over again.
There aren’t a lot of people that know about the lingerie.
Roman being the biggest one, the only one, I can even remember right now.
Jesus, if I was dancing with Roman… I’m going to be mortified.
It wasn’t actually supposed to be him. This was my time to let loose, to pretend that I had everything I wanted, not to be slapped with reality in the midst of my night for existential crisis.
Fuck.
I spin around, using my hands to put space between us, before I push off of him, ripping myself from his arms. We stand there, staring at one another in confusion.
“Olli?” I yell over the music.
He gives me a sheepish smirk. “What gave it away?” He asks as he glances down at his arms. “The tattoos? Or what I said?” He asks sarcastically.
For the first time in… I don’t know. Ever?
He’s wearing a t-shirt instead of a button-up with the sleeves rolled up.
The tattoos that cover his flesh leave no room for debate.
If only I would’ve opened my eyes, I would’ve immediately known who I was dancing with.
“My eyes were closed,” I reply as I turn my attention back to his face. “I didn’t mean to get all… you know.”
He nods in acceptance as he straightens out his shirt before sticking his hand out for me. “Come on,” he demands. “We can both pretend we’re with someone else for the night.”
I stare at him for a second, debating whether or not this is a good idea, before I relent and take his offer. I spin around to face the same direction as him as he pulls me back against his chest.
“Why are you here tonight, Lance?” He asks as if he has any right when he never leaves the safety of approximately a hundred-by-hundred square foot radius.
I know that he has a problem with germs and being around people that he isn’t comfortable with, so I’m honestly kind of shocked that he came here, of all places.
Somewhere that you can’t escape the sweat and reek of dozens of other people.
“The same reason I’ve been here the last few nights,” I reply sarcastically. “To get drunk. Why are you here?”
“Mhmm,“ he hums thoughtfully. “Because I want him to look at me. To see me, the real me. Now… why are you actually here? Not some bullshit answer.”
There’s an awkward pause, even to our dancing, as I try to figure out how to answer his question.
I know that I can trust Olli with anything, and that he’ll always be on my side, but this thing with Roman…
it’s delicate. I know that I’m a fucking idiot, but I’m not in the headspace to hear that from Olli either.
Luckily for me, I don’t think that he’s trying to dish out lectures tonight.
Olli leans down, glancing at me over my shoulder as I stare ahead blankly. I shrug, not entirely sure what to say.
I think back to all the things that happened between Roman and I over the last few months, tears lining my eyes.
The nights our laughter echoed off the stone walls, or the evenings spent bantering back and forth as we watched television and stuffed our faces with meals that he cooked for us.
All those smiles that I thought were genuine, all the sweet words he whispered.
I believed them. I believed all of it, and that’s my fault.
The signs were there. The way he would never undress in front of me.
The way he never tried to kiss me. The way he refused to have sex with me.
I kept pushing him away, so he kept closing himself off. He didn’t really have a choice, did he?
He was telling me without ever having to speak a word, but all I ever saw was what I wanted to see. I destroyed everything, burned it all to the fucking ground, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
This emptiness I feel without him now, I can’t even blame him for it.
The endless longing and constant ache are all my fault.
I did this to myself, and the worst part of it is that I knew this would happen.
I fucking knew. No matter how much I want to hate Roman…
I just can’t. The only thing I want is what I had, what we had, and I only have myself to blame for burning every bit of it to the ground.
I smile weakly as I lean back against his chest. “I gave him everything, Olli, without even realizing it. I gave him everything, and now I’m just… empty.”
“You aren’t empty, Lance. You just need time.
I promise it’ll get better.” He says as he wraps his arms around me, comforting me.
It’s rare that Ollivander even touches other people, let alone gets this close to them.
I lean into his warmth, soaking up the only optimism that I’ve ever heard fall from his lips, even knowing that it’s all lies.
Tears start to trickle down my cheeks, and he reaches up with his thumb to wipe them away. “He didn’t deserve you anyway, Lance. You have to know that.”
I shake my head in denial, because he’s so fucking wrong.
Did Roman have a foul mouth and a bad attitude sometimes?
Obviously. That’s not all there is to him, though.
All the nights he spent complimenting me just to help build my confidence.
All the dinners he cooked for me. All the days he let me talk for hours on end about stupid shit while he worked.
How he would go out of his way to do things for me without even expecting recognition for them.
Ollivander didn’t get to see all the things in between.
He doesn’t know him like I do. No one does.
Roman took everything I threw at him without a single complaint.
Even though I kept him at an arm’s length, that didn’t change the fact that he was invested in us in a way that he didn’t have to be.
He treated me so fucking good, and I never gave him any credit for all the shit he didn’t have to do.
I wish I would’ve. Honestly, there’s a long list of things I’m wishing for right now, but there’s one that sticks out among all the others.
“I just—” I wipe some of the tears from my face as I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “I wish I could start over, Olli. Just this once.”