Present
“Oliver, where were you all day yesterday?” I ask, rubbing my sweaty hands over my black dress.
“I stayed with a mate. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything stupid. I just needed some time to think.”
I walk up to him and look at his face. He’s doing everything he can to hide his emotions, like during all those times I hurt him, bullied him, and ruined him.
“I was worried. I thought you wanted me to be there… when you talked to your mother?”
“Yeah, I did, but then I thought I had to stop being weak and just talk to her alone.”
“Did it work? I mean, she told me you managed to talk, but then you left,” I ask. All of a sudden, Oliver seems so distant and I can’t break through to him. It’s like there is an invisible wall between us.
He exhales, not looking at me. “She blamed her hate on her mental problems and my father.” He sighs. “I think it’s all bullshit. She wasn’t being completely honest with me. She couldn’t hate me just because of her illness.”
I look at him, startled, seeing the pain in his eyes is still raw and real.
“At least you made some small progress,” I say and give him a smile. “But I don’t think we should leave yet, not until you talk more.”
“No, we’re going. I can’t be here knowing what you did with Bryan after his death. God, India. I thought you hated that guy.”
I want to start shouting that it’s not like that. Oliver doesn’t understand. He’s stepping into dangerous territory. We promised we wouldn’t talk about the past. Now I feel like I have to break that promise and just go ahead and tell him the whole truth. Then my internal voice breaks through, telling me Oliver isn’t ready. He’s still angry with his mother and overwhelmed with his father’s death.
“It just happened, all right? It’s the past—remember, the forbidden subject,” I tell him, leaning over to kiss him.
He stares at me for several more moments like he wants to know what I’m thinking. My heart is slowly breaking into pieces.
“You’re right. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“But what about—”
“Seriously, India, a few days is my limit. There will be another time when I’ll try again with my mother. At the moment, I don’t think I can take this.”
“Are you going to tell her you’re leaving? At least she deserves that.”
“I already did yesterday. What about your mother?”
“She should be fine. It hasn’t been long anyway, you know, since Christmas break,” I explain, feeling I shouldn’t let him leave yet. There is still so much we have to talk about. Oliver hasn’t finished straightening up his affairs here, but I know I have to give him time.
Present
Next day, I say my good-bye to Mum and Josephine and we leave Gargle. On the way back, Dora tells us that Bryan ended up with a couple bruises and scratches. She also heard that his mother went ballistic when she heard he was involved in a bar fight. Bryan’s parents were always vigilant about their reputation, but I don’t believe Oliver has escaped the consequences of that fight. Bryan might seek payback at the most unexpected moment.
I tried to talk to Oliver about this yesterday, but as usual, he just waved his hand and told me not to worry about it. He doesn’t care about his reputation in Gargle.
“So do you think Oliver is going to be all right? You know, with the whole fight?” asks Dora once we walk back to our apartment.
Oliver and Jacob have their rugby practise so they were in a hurry to the stadium. He knows he can’t play at least for another four weeks, but he’s happy to sit on the bench and watch what’s happening on the field.
“You know Bryan. Do you think he’ll ever let it go?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders.
“Not sure. Maybe Oliver was lucky. Bryan’s mother would do anything to avoid such a scandal.”
“I guess so, but I’m still worried this might bite him back when he least expects it. Oliver lost his temper. He wanted to show Bryan that he isn’t weak like he used to be.”
Dora nods. She understands what I’m talking about, but I know Oliver beat up Bryan because of what he said. I hate he had to find out I slept with Bryan like that. We weren’t even together then, but I feel like I owe him an explanation now.
That unusual feeling settles in my stomach later that night. Oliver isn’t with me; he’s catching up on his coursework, and I stare at the letters, wondering if I can wait any longer.
Present
The next couple of weeks move way too quickly for me to comprehend what’s going on with Oliver. He hasn’t been staying at my place most days, ands he seems absent, lost in his own world. Our relationship hasn’t moved anywhere. We still haven’t brought up the past and my letters are hidden in the drawer. He says he is not affected by his father’s death, but deep down he’s going through emotional turmoil, like he’s hiding his true self.
Days pass by and slowly Oliver comes back to me, emerging from what seems to be grief and pain. After an exhausting week at uni, he asks me to accompany him to the hospital for his checkup. Shortly after that, the doctor gives him a clear pass and Oliver can go back to his beloved rugby.
When he starts playing again, I notice a small change. He starts being more like his old self, before our short trip to Gargle. It’s a slow process, but we are getting back on track.
He starts joking around and we go out more often. During one evening after my rowing training, we go out for coffee. Oliver hasn’t talked about our trip to Gargle for a while, but today, for the first time, I can see he is in a good mood. Maybe he has finally forgotten about the past.
“Did you bring me here to have a serious conversation?” he asks, passing me a mug of mocha. I have been thinking about this talk about the past for a while, and I don’t know if I’m ready, but I want to try.
“Yes, I feel like we haven’t talked for ages. You know, after the funeral you were kind of distant,” I say, smiling. “Don’t you think we should talk about the past? I’m sure you have questions.”
Oliver looks at me intensely. “No, India, I don’t have any questions. What happened in the past doesn’t matter. Today, now, it’s about you and me,” he says, taking my hand and staring into my eyes, melting the doubts I’ve had since we came back.
“I think you’re taking a big gamble here. Our past is important. I hurt you, but you’ve still forgiven me. If you want to move on, you need to do the same with your mother.”
Oliver frowns and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Our relationship has nothing to do with her. I want to take you out for dinner this weekend,” he exclaims unexpectedly. “We went through a lot. Let’s celebrate.”
Butterflies wake up in my stomach and my mind starts functioning again.
“Why this weekend? If you have something to tell me, then you shouldn’t wait.” I tease him. My heart beats fast. We haven’t had a chance to talk about what we have between us. I’ve wanted to tell him that I love him since that day he revealed that he broke up with Rhian, but I was scared it was all too fast.
“I want this to be special. We’ve waited long enough and we aren’t teenagers anymore, India. I desperately want to make love to you,” he whispers, leaning to kiss me deeply. My pulse starts racing and blissful joy embraces my heart.
Then we talk about everything and anything. For the first time, we’re open about our expectations. An hour later, I’m back on campus, rushing to my next class.
When I finally get home, it’s late. I had another late visit in the library, trying to finish my final assignment for criminal law. My apartment seems deserted and I’m not expecting anyone in, so when I see Oliver in the kitchen, my jaw drops. We both agreed to stay away from each other until our date night, so I’m surprised he hasn’t stuck to that plan.
“Let me guess, you couldn’t stay away?” I ask, amused at seeing him trying to make something in our kitchen.
“Well, I thought ab
out it, and when Dora said she was going out with Jacob for a drink, I couldn’t stand the fact that you were all alone today,” he says as his eyes flash with mischief. “And I decided to show up without a formal invitation.”
He approaches me and I feel like all of a sudden I’m not annoyed he’s here. I’m glad we can spend the evening together.
Oliver wraps his palms around my waist, smiling, before he leans in and whispers, “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
The heat from his touch is too much for me to bear, and I’m afraid he will say how he feels. I had this whole conversation planned out while I was in the library. My thoughts trail back to my drawer and those three letters I wanted to send. Panicking that he will finally say how he feels about me, I kiss him, hoping for a moment of distraction.
Our breath moves with the rhythm of our hearts, and Oliver takes the initiative, not surprised at all with my outburst of passion.
“Okay, fuck this weekend. I can’t wait any longer,” he growls, taking off my jacket. I laugh, unable to hold back how much I want him. He breaks the kiss and lifts me. “Bedroom!”
He bursts through the door and drops me down to the bed. The fire in his eyes blazes through my entire body. My mind starts racing, but I shut down the silly voices in my head, knowing we both have been holding back too long.
When his chest is bare, he takes my hand and lifts me to him. His gaze hovers over my body and tiny goose pimples shoot up over my arms. My heart rate picks up when he starts unbuttoning my sweater.
“So beautiful and only mine,” he says, kissing me with so much passion that I’m melting away in his arms.
His hands move down, exploring my body.
We’re on my bed again and he’s on top of me, trailing kisses down my shoulder. I let go of a soft moan when he tastes my hardened nipples, sending shivers down between my legs.
It’s not like I’m inexperienced and let him take control, but I’m savouring the moment, blocking all my memories from the past. Christian never touched me like that. He liked violence. He had to be in control, even though I was suffering.
Oliver slips my jeans off and when I lift myself, his head is between my legs. A wide, whacky grin breaks over his face and our eyes meet.
“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?”
He doesn’t let me respond, starting to massage my hot spot. The pulsing sensation between my legs keeps growing, and I cry out, forgetting he asked me a question. Soon his hand moves over the line of my panties and his fingers start making long circling motions.
Then the silence is broken by the shutting door, and we both hear voices that belong to Dora and Jacob.
“Just ignore them,” I hiss, knowing this isn’t happening for real. My best friend hasn’t just ruined my first makeup sex with Oliver.
His blue eyes stay on my breasts. My cheeks are flushed and I desperately want him to touch me again.
“It looks like they’re staying,” mutters Oliver. He’s right. I can hear the TV, and then before I can protest, he gets up and starts putting on his T-shirt. We leave the bedroom shorty after that, and Dora gives me a questionable smirk. Oliver looks pissed off with Jacob’s change of plans, but we stay in, trying to dismiss the tension that only keeps growing between us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fake It… Fake It Until You Make It