Chapter 36 #2
I squeeze my eyes shut. Shit, I fainted in front of the entire family and Oliver? How humiliating. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, don’t be sorry,” Oliver insists, handing me a glass of water. “Once you’re feeling better, we’re leaving.”
I gratefully take a sip. “What am I going to say?”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Oliver responds. “If they have questions, I’ll handle them.”
I groan.
“Here, eat this,” Oliver says, handing me a buttered roll. Reluctantly, I take it and nibble at it.
“Why didn’t you eat anything earlier?” he asks after a moment.
I shrug. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Oliver shakes his head. “Because of the anxiety?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Oliver sighs. “I’m so sorry. I should have paid closer attention.”
“It’s not your fault—”
“I know,” he reassures me, then glances toward the door. “It’s theirs.”
I slowly finish my dinner roll, and we stay in the guest room until I feel well enough to stand.
We slip out the front door without speaking to anyone, and my anxiety spikes again as I wonder what my parents might be thinking.
Are they going to confront me about this later?
Do they think this is Oliver’s fault? Will the family decide to forbid me from interacting with the kids after this?
“Clearly, Auntie DEADNAME is crazy. Don’t let her around the kids. ”
As we approach Ripley, I pull the keys out of my pocket and open the driver’s side door.
“Whoa, hey,” Oliver says, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “How about you let me drive, okay?”
I take a shuddering breath, then frown at him. “Can you drive?”
Oliver chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I can. I just don’t do it often, so I might be a little rusty. But I’ll drive nice and slow.”
I hesitate, but only for a moment, then hand over the keys and climb into the passenger seat.
As soon as Oliver settles into the driver's seat, he growls and urgently yanks off his orange sweater. He’s about to toss it in the back, but I hold out my hand, silently asking for it. He hands it over, then turns to his phone. “Where should we go?” he asks.
“Anywhere but here,” I mumble, wrapping myself in Oliver’s sweater and pressing it to my face. It smells like him—comfort, safety, and warmth.
Before we hit the road, Oliver starts playing The Beatles, and the music slowly calms my nerves. I don’t pay attention to the GPS—only the music.
At some point during the drive, Oliver reaches across the center console to rub my leg. I take his hand in mine, interlace our fingers, and try my best to relax.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.
“Not yet.”
Oliver’s thumb caresses mine. “Take your time.”
I close my eyes, grateful.
By the time I realize where we are, I chuckle. “Back to school?”
“Is that okay?” Oliver asks nervously. “I figured this is the closest thing we have to a shared home.”
My throat grows thick with emotion. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Oliver parks in my usual spot, and we sit quietly for several moments. “Yours or mine?” he asks.
I consider it. My gut says to go to his, but I realize that’s probably just because I crave his presence. But since he’s already with me, maybe spending time in my room won’t feel as lonely. “Mine.”
Oliver nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The Village is a ghost town. It’s not surprising, given it’s Thanksgiving, but it’s still surreal to walk through the empty lobby and hallways. Oliver and I silently trek to room 714, and I immediately flop onto the couch.
“Can I get you anything?” Oliver asks. “Water? A snack? Maybe some coffee?”
I shrug. “Maybe some water?”
“You got it.”
While Oliver prepares a glass of water for me, I take the chance to watch him.
I assume the events back at my parents’ house made him too hot, as evidenced by the slow deconstruction of his outfit.
His sweater was the first to go in the car and is now on me instead.
I’m not sure when he pulled his hair back into a bun, but now only a few loose strands of golden hair dangle freely.
His white dress shirt sleeves are rolled up, exposing his long, slender arms, and several buttons at his chest have been undone.
His loafers were discarded at the door the moment we stepped into the room, revealing his adorable argyle socks.
He’s so effortlessly beautiful. I adore him.
“Here you are, your excellency,” he teases, handing me a glass of iced water. “Is there anything else your heart desires?”
You, I cry, but never aloud. Instead, I chuckle. “I wish we could build that cuddle puddle again,” I muse.
Oliver tilts his head. “Yeah? Hm, I think I could find a way.”
I snicker. “No, no, it’s okay. We don’t have any air mattresses.”
“I think I still have Harrison’s in my room! Let me go get it,” he says, turning on his heel. “I’ll be back in like two seconds–”
“No, don’t go!” I beg, panic spiking. “Please.”
Oliver stops at once, returning to my side. “Okay. I’ll stay right here. Promise.”
I’m not sure whether it’s his sincere smile or the warmth with which he promised to stay by my side, but whatever was holding me together crumbles, and I break down in tears.
Oliver holds me through it, rubbing gentle circles on my back and running his fingers delicately through my hair.
He says nothing out loud, but his comforting presence and tender touch are everything.
After what feels like hours, I finally find my words. “Oliver, I’m so sorry.”
“Jude, hey–”
“I shouldn’t have dragged you into my family shit. I’m so sorry they were so awful to you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” he soothes. “Absolutely nothing. It’s not your fault that your family is a bunch of assholes.”
“But I shouldn’t have–”
“I wanted to come, Jude,” he insists. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”
“But—” I freeze. Wait. Did he call me “love”?
“If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. I snapped at Cody and said things I probably shouldn’t have. I’m not sorry for what I said, but I’m sorry I broke my word to you.”
I’m only barely listening. “Love?”
Oliver’s eyes go wide. “What?”
I blink, then shake my head. I’m being an idiot. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“No, what is it?”
“Sorry. It was stupid. Earlier, you said ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, love,’ but… yeah, then I remembered you’re still probably in character.” I shrug. “See? Stupid.”
Oliver stares at me for a disquieting few seconds, then shoots to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He paces a few times, then stops and looks back at me with an intense expression. “Fuck. Jude, I have to tell you something.”
Oh, God. He’s going to leave. I crossed a line. I’ve made him uncomfortable. I knew this was too far. I knew the fake dating thing was a bad idea. I knew—
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Time grinds to a halt. I must still be unconscious. This is just a dream.
“Actually, I don’t think it. I know it. I am in love with you.”
My heart thumps erratically against my chest, but the rest of me is paralyzed, too stunned, too terrified that if I move, I’ll wake up. And I don’t want to wake up.
“I know, and I’m so…I’m so sorry. I told you I was ace, and I am ace, but apparently that doesn’t mean I can’t fall in love, because I did.
I’m so in love with you that it’s stupid.
And I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.
I swear, I didn’t become your friend with the intention of being anything more than friends.
I’ve never been in love before—shit, I’ve never even had a crush before.
But suddenly I met you, and… I didn’t know what it was for a while.
I just knew you were special. More than special—you were everything.
But, fuck, Jude, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to make things weird between us because I know it would never work.
So just know that I’m trying to stop. I’m trying to get over it. I’m—”
No.
“No” is the only coherent thought I have before I launch toward him. I throw my arms around his neck, stand on my tiptoes—
And I kiss him.
He gasps in surprise as our mouths collide, but he doesn’t pull away.
Instead, he bends slightly, leans in, and kisses me back.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, then lets out a low, contented sigh.
Our lips part, moving in tandem, and his tongue glides against mine.
I nearly faint again, so lost in him that I forget how to breathe.
Suddenly, he recoils, stumbling backward, breathing heavily. His cheeks are tinted pink, and his pupils are dilated. “Wait,” he gasps. “Hang on.”
“I love you, too,” I blurt breathlessly, clinging to his forearms as if my life depends on it. “Fuck, Oliver, I’m so in love with you.”
Oliver’s breath catches, and he exhales a laugh. “You…really?”
I nod, stifling a laugh. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same way.”
“I didn’t think so, either,” Oliver replies, repositioning his arms to hold my hands. “I thought you were only attracted to girls.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m…I’ve always been into both genders. All genders, really. But, after Tyler…”
“Right,” Oliver says. “Of course. That makes sense.”
“But you,” I whisper.
Oliver scoffs. “No, you,” he argues.
An emotional laugh bursts out of me, and a tear trickles down my cheek.
Oliver cups my cheek and strokes the tear away with his thumb. “I love you, Jude.”
“I love you, too, Oliver.”
His face cracks into a wide smile before he leans down to kiss me again.