The brightness of the TV lights up the room, ths colours of the wall changing along with the screen. I squint at it, my eyes burning. Maybe I should turn on a light. I look around, but the distance to the switch turns me off.

It's currently 2am, and I shouldve been asleep ages ago. I stayed up late working on an assignment, and drank a few too many energy drinks and coffees. I'm buzzing.

"A long time ago, we used to be friends, but I, havent thouht of you lately at all," the TV plays.

I bop my head long to the tune I'm all too familiar with. I've watched all seasons of Veronica Mars over and ovr again. It's so addictive. Plus, it's the perfect mix of crime and drama.

Wallace's face appears on the screen, a smirk on his face. He's talking to Veronica about some girl he has a crush on. I stick my hand in the bag of chips, munching on some more red doritos. Maybe I shouldve gotten pringles instead.

Oh! Left over pizza!

I jump up from the couch, sliding on my slipers over the floor. I bought two large pizzas earlier tonight, one for Ari and one for me, but I didn't finish mine. I left it out on the counter just so I could have some cold pizza for breakfast. But, midnight snack works too.

I shove a slice in my mouth, savouring the taste of the melted cheese. Cold pizza is the best.

A loud baning on the door interrupts my enjoyment.

Holy fuck.

Why is someone banging on my door at this time of night? Better yet, who can get through the giant gate around the estate and the million security measures? Literally, I have to scan my eyes and my hand just to open the gate!

My heart sinks.

"Lucy!" Oliver calls. "Baby!"

He continues his banging, and I feel my swallowed pieces of pizza rise up in my throat.

"Lucy!"

Everything feels like slowmotion. I slide down the door handle, and pull open the door. But, I don't even have to open it fully. Oliver does that himself, with his body. He falls on top of me, throwing his arms over my shoudlers like a monkey. But he's so much taller than me, the pressure of his weight hurts my head.

He doesn't smell like he used to. He smells of alcohol, sweat and weed. He doesn't even look like he used to. His hair is messier than it was last time I saw him, and he's not wearing a suit. He;s wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. The dog tag is still around his neck, and I can't help but wonder what it says.

"Baby, you're so soft," he mumbles.

"Oliver," I wriggle. "Get off me."

"Baby," he groans.

"get off!" I whisper-yell, shoving him off of me.

He stumbles bacwards, his eyes barely open.

"What are you doing here?" I grumble.

"I missed you, baby, you smell so nice," he walks through the entryway, stumbling with every step he takes. "This place smells like you."

I have to force myself to ignore his words.

"Where's your phone?" I ask, regretting my decision to leave my phone in the charger upstairs. "I'm going to call Liam to get you."

I lift my face up, catching his eye. Big mistake. His orbs are brown, with specs of gold in them. As soon as I see them, my mind is flooded with memories. I look away instantly.

Oliver Ferrari is the devil.

He dips his hand deep into his sweatpant pocket, pulling out his phone. Of course, it's the latest iPhone. I take the device from him, trying my best not to touch his skin. He didn't have a lock on his phone four years ago, and he doesn't now. His backgrounds are plain black, no images or anything.

Part of me wants to take advantage of this and search my name, but it'll just hurt me more. I scroll through his contacts and spot Liam's name in his favourites.

The dial tone rings, but it goes to voicemail. Goddammit. I click on Kaleems name instead, but as soon as I press on the call button, the screen turns black.

"No," I grumble.

"Baby, where's your trash?" Oliver asks, rummaging through my kitchen.

I fiddle with his phone, trying to get the screen to turn back on. It can't be dead. I don't have a charger for this thing.

"Oliver?" I ask.

"I love it when you say my name," he walks further away from me, floating through the house.

I can hear the smile in his voice. I turn around to face him, but I freeze when I see him leaning over my garbage can.

"Ollie!" I call, hurrying over to him.

He gags, vomit spilling from his mouth. I don't want to touch him, but he's puking in my trash. I need to do something. I grab a tissue box from the kitchen table, handing it to him. He vomits some more, and I fill up a glass of water to give to him.

At least he's not puking on the floor.

He takes a deep breath and stands up straight.

"Do you feel better?" I ask him.

He nods, drinking the glass of water I prepared for him. He takes some tissues, wiping his mouth.

"I'm done," he says.

He's got to be less drunk by now.

"What re you doing here?" I ask.

"Visiting my girlfriend," he smirks, reaching his hand out to me.

I shove it away, not wanting him to touch me.

"baby, I love you," he says.

Ignore it, Lucy.

"Where's your other phone?" I ask, knowing he's got another work phone somewhere.

"The office."

I sigh. "You need to go home. Your phone died."

"Don't you have a charger? I want to stay here."

"I have the old phone," I say. "You can't stay here."

"I sent you the new one," he tells me.

What the hell?

"Why would you do that?" I frown.

"Because I love you, baby, don't you know?"

I shake my head at him. If he loved me, he wouldn't have treated me the way he did.

"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye," he tells me. "I should've come visit."

"Why didn't you respond to my emails?" I ask.

I didn't have his number in Italy, and I couldn't afford the call anyway. I tried contactign him through Liam, but he wouldn't let me. Eventually, I tried emailing Ollie's work email, and got no response. He checks that email multiple times a day. In fact, his phone lights up constntly with emails.

He definitely read them.

"I was afraid baby, I'm a pussy, I hurt you, I didn't know what to do."

"That's not good enough," I say.

Three years. He had four fucking years.

He's a billionaire, for god's sake, he could've flown over to see me at any time.

"You didn't answer me, either," Oliver accuses. "I sent you stuff all the time."

I never received anything.

I let out a low grumble. I need to get out of here.

"I'm going to bed Oliver, you can sleep on the couch," I tell him, walking out of the room.

He broke my heart.