Page 14 of Oliver

Me: thanks

I toss my phone aside, the sandwich I’d made only ten minutes ago looking far less appetizing now. I shove it away and pick up my controller before drowning my feelings in a game ofCall of Duty.

I’ve managed to avoid Oliver for the most part, over the past couple of days. We’ve run into each other occasionally, but I’ve spent most of my time in my room or out of the house. The worst time of day is in the evening, when Mom is home and we’re expected to eat dinner together around the table like a fucking family.

The icing on the cake is when she tells us she might not be able to make it on the trip after all because of work. I can tell she feels awful about it, and she’s exhausted. Apparently things are really hectic and intense right now with the case she’s working on, and while she has someone who can cover for her that she trusts, she’s worried it will be too much for them.

I can’t be upset with Mom, though. She’s always been amazing at what she does, and one of the things I respect about her is her dedication to her clients and helping them get thejustice they deserve. She’s clearly stressed, and warring with herself about whether or not she should be making the trip. But if she decides she can’t come I’ll just head back to my apartment because I am not going on the road for two weeks with just Oliver, or spending more time here alone with him, or I’m fairly certain I’ll end up on the six o’clock news.

It’s the second night in a row we’ve done the family meal thing now, and I always eat as quickly as possible so I can excuse myself. I hate doing it, because I don’t want to be rude to Mom, but I can’t stomach sitting across from Oliver and pretending like everything is okay. I tell her about my job when she asks, and about the classes I’ll be taking next semester for my psychology major. I fill her in on my roommates. When she asks if I’m seeing anyone I have to do my best not to glance at Oliver. “No,” I say. “Not right now. There was someone I thought might turn into something but turns out he’s a real prick and was just using me. He was in a relationship the whole time.”

I see Oliver flinch and his face flush out of the corner of my eye, and I can’t help but feel a bit proud of myself for that one. He fuckling deserves it after what he did.

“Oh, my,” Mom replies, clearly stunned. “Well, I’m glad you found out before it turned uglier.”

I don’t say anything, just finish my meal and head back to my room, telling her that I’m going to look through my things and decide what to pack for the trip we’ll be leaving on the day after tomorrow, though I’m seriously considering telling her I can’t make it, and making something up, like I need to get back to my apartment, or I’m not feeling well so I shouldn't be traveling. I wish I could use work as an excuse, but she already knows the bar is under construction so that won’t work.

This fucked up situation and the lack of sleep I’ve been getting has me utterly exhausted and out of sorts. I’m so wipedout that I head to bed before ten o’clock. I’m out before my head hits the pillow.

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Fucking hell, this is the second time he’s made me freak the fuck out while I’m minding my own goddamn business getting coffee.

“Well, let’s see, the wedding is in two months, so, I’m thinking probably a good thirty or forty years, give or take,” I say, stirring my cream into my coffee.

“Hunter, please.” His voice is earnest. “You have to know I never meant to hurt you, or your mother.”

I glare at him now. “Yes, you made it very clear that it was a “mistake” I say, putting the word in finger quotes. “Does she know?” He blinks at me. “Does she know, Oliver? Did you fucking tell my mom that you cheated on her? I’m not stupid, you know. I did the goddamn math. How long after you left before you proposed?”

His cheeks darken and he swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It couldn’t have been more than a week, Oliver! Was it the same fucking day? You rushed out of my apartment and you were so guilt ridden, you had to do whatever the fuck you could to make yourself feel better about it so you gave her a goddamn ring? Does she at least know you’re not straight? Did you tell her that much?”

“I am?—”

“If you end that sentence with anything other than “a fucking bastard” I will punch you in the nose,” I grit out. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me after what we did. You can fucking lie to yourself all you want, Oliver. You can lie to my mom if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare lie to me. I don’t know whyyou are doing this. Why you are so determined to make everyone around you believe that you are something you aren't. But guess what? Putting a ring on Mom’s finger doesn't change a goddamn thing, you asshole!” My cheeks are flaming and I’m definitely shouting, but the most horrifying thing about this whole exchange are the tears sliding down my cheeks. “You never told me you were in a relationship. I didn’t even get the chance to make that choice, and now I have to pay for the consequences. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me the past few days, being around her and pretending like everything between us is normal? Pretending I didn’t—” My breath catches and I can’t finish the words.

“Hunter,” he says, stepping towards me again, but I back away as a whimper escapes me.

“I don’t know what to do,” I sob. “And the worst part is, I fucking cried over you, Oliver. Do you know that? The morning you left, without a word, after you told me you would stay, I fucking cried. And then I show up here and you fucking tell me it was a mistake. After I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, about us, jerking off to thoughts of us together night after night because that’s all I have left. Thinking I would never see you again. And now here you are, and I can’t…” My chest heaves. “I can’t have you. Because you’re marrying my mom.”

He’s close enough to me now that I can smell his gingerbread and vanilla scent, and before I know it, he’s taking me in his arms and holding me close to him as I sob, my arms wrapped around him, releasing so much hurt, and anger and grief that I’d bottled up not just since I got home and found out who he was, but since he left that morning three months ago.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Hunter. I know I was wrong to leave. I didn’t know what to do. I’m a complete bastard. I know that. I was scared. So very very scared at how utterly bewitched I was by you. I’ve made some very poorchoices in my life, but you, Hunter Price, were not one of them. Even though it makes me the scum of the earth, I don’t regret what we did, even for a second. I said it was a mistake because I had to convince myself it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, to assuage my own guilt. I never intended to cheat on your mother. I’ve been telling myself I’m not gay for over twenty years, Hunter, because I can’t be gay. Not in my family. Not with my parents. They would never accept it. Being anything other than straight is an unpardonable sin in their eyes and I’ve spent my entire life hearing about how vile it is, how unnatural. Marrying your mother seemed like the next best thing. Though truth be told it can’t compare to how it felt being with you. I’ve done my best to live the only life I can, knowing I can never be who I really am. I had never been with another man before that night, though God knows I’d wanted it. Something about you made me so utterly reckless. I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. Though, heaven knows I’ve tried.”

I lift my head and stare at him. He brings his thumbs to my cheeks and wipes my tears.

“You want me?” It’s subtle, but he nods.

“More than I care to admit.” His finger reaches for the loose lock of hair that’s fallen out of my messy bun and he tucks it behind my ear.

“What do we do?” I ask, feeling so torn inside I could scream.

“What do you want to do, sweet boy?” he asks me.

My heart thrashes against my rib cage. Then I’m gripping his cheeks and kissing him, hard. He moans, the sound vibrating throughout my entire body and making me shiver. Oh, God, yes. This is what I remember. This is what it felt like to have our lips locked and our tongues tangling. This is what I have been craving since the morning he walked away. I need this man. I need his kisses, his touch, his taste. I need his firm, hard body underneath me. I need my lips wrapped around his cock. I needhis obedience, his surrender. I need to hear those sinful sounds pouring from his lips again and again.

“Hunter,” he gasps, pulling away. His eyes flit to my lips and then back to my eyes. Then he’s crashing his lips to mine again and pressing me up against the counter. He stands between my splayed thighs and we make out like we’re fucking starving for each other, because we are. When I grip his auburn locks in my hand and tug, he whimpers and my cock jerks, aching for him.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” I pant, between kisses.

---