13

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height


Oliver lets out a low grumble, almost a growl. Something shifts in his eyes. His previous calm but nonchalant expression has become stone cold.

I almost expect him to run his hand through his hair again. But he doesn't. Instead, his entire body tenses.

But I don't regret speaking my last words. It's the truth.

"Whats your side of the story?" I ask him.

H frowns at me, confusion clear in his face. I can feel my stomach rise up in my throat. I can't look at his damn eyes. I just want to cry. I hate this so much. Fuck Oliver.

"What do you want me to say?"

I scowl. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

I did not expect him to be as frustrated as he is. His whole attitude has changed.

"You want something from me that I can't provide."

He was the one that wanted to talk about what happened!

"That's bullshit," I grumble. "Your constant honesty and openness was a key part to our relationship. I don't believe for a second that you can't tell me your perspective or how you feel. That's why I loved so much, Ollie. You let me in."

He shakes his head, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips. Something gleams in his eyes. It's something I haven't seen before, but I instantly know what's going on. It's not that he can't tell me his side of the story, it's that he doesn't want to.

"You're embarrassed," I say.

He doesn't respond. He doesn't even look at me.

"You haven't kept watching documentaries, have you?" I ask.

It's a method we used to have. We'd watch a movie I wanted, usually a documentary, and then a movie Oliver wanted, usually a thriller. He learnt so much about, and I was definitely a proud girlfriend.

"Have you kept watching thrillers?" he responds.

"No, I haven't," I admit.

Silence washes over the room, neither of us sure of what to say. He gets bored quickly, I'm sure he'll be first to crack.

I lean against the backrest of the couch, letting out a deep sigh. I should make myself some more pancakes.

"Fine, Lucy, you want to know?"

I smile over at him. I knew it. He cracked.

"Yes, please."

"What the fuck was I meant to do?" he exclaims. "Everything you said to me that day you found out I was leaving, was true. I should have fucking told you! I didn't know what the fuck to do! I wanted you to come with me, but you wouldn't even move in with me when I asked. I was afraid you didn't love me after all. You were so young, when I was your age, I didn't know shit!"

Oh my god. He thought I didn't love him, despite his confident exterior. That whole time, he was insecure about my love for him, and I didn't even notice.

"And when I was over there, and Mary told me all about the mad rat-race you went on to find me that morning, I lost my fucking mind," he continues. "I didn't know what to do. I was so fucking embarrassed. Not just for not telling you I was leaving, but for not saying goodbye. I didn't even fight for you, Lucy. What kind of boyfriend am I? Hell, what kind of man am I? I didn't know how to face you. I felt so fucking pathetic."

I take a step towards him. Despite his angry tone, I'm not afraid of him. There's nothing to be afraid of.

"You tried to forget you, I didn't know what else to do. I blocked all your emails and sent all your mail to Liam instead. I was fucking scared of you, Lucy. I felt weak. I felt like nothing. I started hooking up with girls, having sex, but it didn't work. I couldn't stop thinking of you. You were always on my mind. I couldn't even et my fucking dick up! I took viagra like fucking candy," he rants.

I learnt about this in one of my classes last semester. He was trying to compensate for his masculinity. He felt unmasculine because he was afraid and insecure, so he did other masculine things to make up for it. Sex, drugs, alcohol, exercise, its all examples of masculine compensation, and a perfect description of Oliver's behaviour.

But, it's no excuse.

He was never like that before. He drank and smoked, sure, but I'd never seen him take drugs, and he was a virgin. He was respectful, kind, sweet, and perfect in every way.

"Kaleem was the one to snap me out of it," he continues. "he beat me the fuck up, man, Jesus. That's when I started sending you messages, and I called your phone, and I sent you gifts. When you didn't respond to anything, I booked a ticket to see you. Liam stopped me. He told me you needed space or whatever, but it fucking killed. I should've come."

I never received any phone calls, messages, or gifts. I didn't hear anything from him.

"And then I saw a picture of you hooking up with some guy on Mary's Snapchat," he says. "I was broken. Completely fucked, and it all started over again. I couldn't have sex though. I'd hook up with girls, but none of them were you. I started drinking more, and Alex gave me some weed, and I loved it. I'd take anything to get my mind off you. I was almost CEO by then, so I had so much to do. The press wouldn't get off my back. I was stressed out of my mind, and I'd get fucked just to forget everything. It wasn't hard to learn to cover up my drug use. I just worked from home most days."

I can feel the tears form in the corner of my eyes. It hurts just to listen to. He looks up at me, and for the first time, I don't want to look away.

"I was so lost, Lucy. You were my baby, and I let you down. It wasn't until I fucked up that I realised I had to sort myself out. I fucked up a trade deal with Romania and lost millions. My dad was so fucking pissed, but no one was as mad as I was. But then I thought of you, and what you would say, and I knew exactly what I needed to do. I wanted to offer you a job as an advisor, but I knew it was a bad idea. You hate me, and I love you, and it would just get messy. But if I couldn't have you working with me, I needed you supporting me. I'm not afraid anymore, Lucy. I'm so fucking sorry for everything I did to you, but I need you in my life. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But trust me when I say that I still love you, and I will wait for you, however long it may take for you to forgive me."

No, no, no, no, no.

I can't handle any of this.

Without a second thought, I run out of the room. Oliver calls after me, but I don't stop. I hurl myself down the stairs, almost tripping through my sprint.

"Lucy! Please!"

I pull the door open, not bothering to stop and close the door. Usually, I wouldn't be able to run all the way to my house, but the adrenaline is pumping through me.

Oliver must've stopped following me by now.

It's not until I make it inside my house, that I realise that I'm sobbing.

I barge up the stairs, ignoring the odd looks the others give me. Mary calls out to me, but it's Liam who follows me into my room. I collapse onto my bed.

"Lucy?" he whispers. "Oliver texted me. He told me what happened."

"I'm so...," I swallow. "Confused."

He lets out a deep sigh, taking a seat on the mattress next to me. My head begins to throb, the crying overwhelming me. My throat is drying up, almost choking me.

"I'm sorry, Lucy, I'm so sorry," Liam says. "I fucking hate this."

Now Liam's getting angry. I know he feels guilty for it. I know him. He thinks he shouldn't protect me. I want to reassure him, but I can't form the words.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net