26. All the things I want to hate and conveniently long elevator rides

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Okay guys (; I hope y'all like this one!!

Vote, comment, and idk what else y'all can do lol.

Play the song when you see (*) I honestly couldn't pick a song so if you wanna use a diff one, go ahead (:

18+ (maybe bc Idk what counts)

_____________________

Nova-

"Ready?" the driver asks after he sits down. I nod with a polite smile.

During the drive, I keep checking how I look on my phone and switch between the same three apps because I can't think and keep forgetting what I'm trying to find on my phone before realizing I'm not trying to find anything. I make the mistake of googling the event again and seeing all of these new articles. There are also some really good pictures of Theo out there. Not that I care. I definitely go through them, though.

The drive is kind of long, and the car's dark, aside from when we pass streetlights. To my surprise, we stop outside of an apartment building. The driver gets up and opens my door for me and before I get to question anything, I see Theo walk up to the car. This is probably another one of his apartments. I thank the driver.

I take the steps that close some of the distance between me and the guy I want to smack. I don't know how to stay away from him and I hate it. Even when I feel all the annoyance in the world towards him, I still want to be near him.

He's the one who couldn't find time to text me back or even call me on his own phone to tell me when I'd be picked up. He's also the only person I've thought about for the last two weeks. When we got closer, I realized how busy we both always were and even the smallest conversations could hold me over for days.

Even a quick text from him assured me that he didn't hate me. I know how dumb that sounds but I'm incapable of not overthinking when there's too much silence between me and someone else. To me, silence equals distance, and the more silence there is, the more distance there is.

I'm this way with everyone. It takes one wrong look from my barista for me to tip them double just so that they'll like me. To me, we just got rid of all the silence that surrounded us. Then, he went and ruined that. Now I'm back to not knowing where we stand. I keep thinking about if I did something wrong.

If I unknowingly said something during our last phone call to make him mad at me. I couldn't think of much. I guess not talking to me worked out in his favor because it made me feel so desperate. I drove myself insane because, in hindsight, it's not that bad. We don't have to talk even when I want to.

Two weeks isn't even a long time. So why did it feel like forever? I think I convinced myself I didn't like him. Now, I'm watching him approach me and I'm not sure how I could've believed myself. Screw the event, I think I've been more nervous about this.

The way it feels when he's so fucking close but I can't be for sure if he's genuinely here. I've gotten so good at this. At us. Or at least I thought I'd gotten good. Maybe, I did do something wrong. Perhaps he'd had some thoughts about me that made him not want to talk to me.

All of those thoughts slowly morphed into a subtle frustration that lingered on my skin. If he didn't have a damn good reason, I think I'd strangle him. He's wearing a crisp black suit with a white button-up with the first few buttons undone, showing the silver chain he always wears.

His hair, which had been longer with more texture when I last saw him, was shorter and tamer. It was pushed back like he had run his hands through it a few times. It still looks good. You're not still supposed to like guys when they cut their hair.

I still think he looks best with messy, longer hair, but I'd be lying if I said he didn't good right now. He looks more put together than normal and it almost leaves me breathless. He stands tall, arrogant, and very much so like he's about to get handed keys to a multi-million dollar business.

My annoyance at him grows when I can't shake off the effects of him simply standing in front of me. His green eyes lazily scan my face and I feel really hot in the cold weather. When his eyes make their way back to mine, I do my best to show that I do not like him today.

One side of his lips quickly quirks up. I'm so close to screaming. "You wanna go or keep staring?"

Asshole. His voice is deep and full of amusement. I roll my eyes, "I'm just waiting for you to step aside." At least I don't sound like I'm about to run from him. I walk past him, completely aware when he starts trailing behind me. When we pass the entrance to the building, I nod towards it, "You live here?" I ask it just to say something.

He nods, dismissively saying, "Most of the time."

How many things do I just not know about him? "Why do you live everywhere?"

"Because I own the buildings," he looks down at me with a quick smirk. I look away quickly, still feeling that tingle in my stomach at the image. I don't think anyone else's smile affects me as much as his.

I make a face and he catches me, his lips almost shifting into an actual smile. I don't want him to smile. I don't think I'd be able to stay upset if he did. He doesn't smile though. I keep coming up with questions to ask and things to say but if I open my mouth again, the first thing that will come out is going to be, 'Why couldn't you just text me back?' Maybe with a few curse words mixed in: 'Why the fuck is it so goddamn hard for you to just be fucking consistent with me?'

We approach another black car. This time it's just a different style. He holds open the door for me and I try to get in the car as gracefully as I can in the dress. I decide that for the sake of making it through the night without going insane, I'll be nice. "How do you feel?" I can't help but ask. My tone is all stiff and I have to force the words out.

From the way he's sitting in the fucking car, I'd guess he felt bored. One arm was draped over the top of the seats, his silver laced fingers almost touching me, while his other hand seems to be playing with a ring he slipped off one of his fingers. He doesn't really fit in the car so his legs are spread and he pushes his hips forward to adjust a little. "Fine."

The short one-word answer makes me roll my eyes. He clearly catches it when he says, "What? I need to say I'm scared shitless for you to be satisfied?"

"Yes," I counter defensively. "I would be."

"Scott, you are scared," he says, amused. I hate the sound of his voice when he's so close and the city seems so quiet, making it harder to let the noise cover up any thoughts I have about him. I hate the way he says my name (or, I guess, the way he doesn't say my name).

"No, I'm not," I try to sound offended.

"You've redone your coat knot five times since we sat down," he comments and I sigh, realizing he's right. He notices those things. I hate that too. I hate that nothing about me escapes him. As if he knows me so well that the changing of my constants would jar him.

"So?" I say, shifting to sit on my hands so I can control them from fidgeting. "That doesn't mean anything."

He bites the inside of his cheek, nodding his head, "Of course, my bad." 

I don't look at him, resting my head on the window, careful not to mess up my hair or make-up. I've been sitting stiffly for the whole car ride because I'm more aware of how easily he could look over and I could be looking bad. I hate how much that matters to me. It's stupid to want to look pretty for a guy who's seen me at my worst and still talked to me like I was normal.

It also feels weird that even though I said I'd get pretty for me, I hope he sees it too. Have we spent too long aligning with each other in a simple pattern just for these feelings to ruin them when it's too late? Has he spent so long not caring about how I look just to not notice it now?

I keep secretly looking over and I see his perfect posture while he looks out at a city I love and he hates. I've spent part of my life trying to figure him out and when I think I've done it, I lose him just to find him and view him completely differently.

Right now, I'm not figuring out who he is. This time, I'm figuring out how I feel about us. There's always an us. I want to hate that but I can't. I'll hate how he makes me feel when I don't want to but I'll spend a little bit of forever in love with the fact that there is an us.

I love that he's my best friend and I love that he's spent so long putting up with me that he knows me better than my own parents. I love the contrast between us and how it works and I love that he's next to me and I love how funny it is that I only catch feelings after spending so long hating him.

Maybe there isn't an 'us' in the way I seem to want, but there is something. I don't want there to be quiet car rides on nervous nights. I want to talk to him and not only look at him when I know he won't catch me. I don't want things to go in the direction they're going.

How do you beat the sense into someone? You don't. Especially when they're huge. Why the fuck is he huge? Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I've never gotten into a fist fight but there's a first for everything. If I really surprised him, I probably could do enough for him to need plastic surgery. A few minutes of quiet pass before he turns to me and says, "We'll be sitting at the same table as my family."

That's what he has to say to me? I nod and pretend like that isn't the scariest thing I've ever heard. I had been expecting to meet his family, but for some reason, the idea of being at the same table as them means I can't quickly say hi and sprint like my life depends on it. "What else do I need to know?" What else is he hiding in that big ass head of his?

"Asher and Jordan are there," he says without looking at me, looking at his watch. Oh so not talking isn't enough? Shouldn't prissy rich kids know enough about eye contact? Or is that another way of avoiding me?

What on that watch could be important enough? Does he still not know how to read analog watches? That's kind of bad because he wears a lot of those. Maybe, I'll tell him to buy a watch he can read instead of getting plastic surgery after I fuck him up.

His words set into me and I feel relieved because I have friends there. We have friends that we share now. Huh, who would've thought? Truly, I only call them my friends because we have a group chat without Theo in it where we talk shit about Theo, but it's okay because it's like a therapeutic bonding experience.

"I also have to do a conference with my father, so I won't be with you all night," he adds, looking back down at his watch. Alright, what is so damn interesting about that watch?! I raise slightly from my seat to see because I'd like to know and he looks over at me with furrowed brows, "You can ask for the time, Darling. It's free." I shoot him an annoyed look, warmth settling in my stomach at the name. Punk ass bitch. Just wait until he's getting his shit rocked.

I look back out the window, relaxing in the heated seats. Yes, heated. Isn't it so fancy? I might have to sneak out of the party to just sit in here. Never mind, that's weird but I'm putting heated seats on my list of things to get when I buy a car (Which will be never). I bite my tongue we're in the area surrounding the new building.

Thinking about his conference, I don't care that he's not going to be by me all night but I do care that he could've told me this stuff earlier. We'd actually have to talk for that to be the case, though. When we arrive outside of the familiar building, I remember that this was kind of where we had first genuinely started being friends. On the roof where amends were made. This time, however, there wasn't construction everywhere.

"The building looks good," I say in wonder. It's a tall glass building that's exactly what you think of when you think of New York.

"Yeah," he agrees, absently like he doesn't see what's so special about it. I hear his door open and before I can open my own door, he's already doing it for me. Theo Black can be a gentleman. Surprising.

"Are you still going to have that office?" I ask when I think about what I remember from the last time I was here. The moment it leaves my mouth, I know it was a stupid question because now I'm thinking about how he said it was a good place to fuck someone. Is he going to? That thought makes my nerves get worse. I don't want to have to think about that. Gross. Gross? Yes, gross. Really? Shut up.

"No," he deadpans and I look at him a little confused before he rolls his eyes and says, "You ask some of the stupidest questions. Why the fuck would I change my office?"

"In case they finally realized you're too much of a jackass to be in charge," I sa coldly, looking at him.

His lips quirk up, the shadow of his dimple on his cheek, "Who's they? No one's in charge of me, Darling."

The word darling will never be the same for me after him. "Not even your dad?" I grin.

His gaze narrows, "Not even my dad."

"Since when?" I ask, just for my own amusement.

"Since he realized I did shit better than him," he says casually, sliding a tip to the driver.

I nod even though he's not looking at me. We start walking and pass a few people who clearly recognize him. I put my hands in my coat pockets, listening to the quiet clicks of my heels. Occasionally, his arm will brush mine and I'll feel a jolt. I feel like a loser, getting excited at the smallest touches. "Remember when you made us break in?" I ask.

He looks down at me, meeting my gaze when I quickly look up. "We didn't break in," he sighs.

"I know, I know, you had a key," I say the words I know he's about to say.

He nods, adding, "I remember." 

His response is short and curt and it bothers me. I also notice how he keeps the distance between us and my stomach sinks. How the fuck do we change so much in a few weeks? Why did we have to change when I finally don't want us to?

We reach the door and a doorman holds it open for us and I smile at him before almost jolting when I feel Theo's warm hand on my back. My breathing shifts and I look at him with a glare, finding his eyes already on mine. That makes my heart quicken some more.

I take this second to study his face, finding a bored expression in his eyes. I hold back my frown at these little exchanges that give me nothing but more nervousness. When we enter the foyer, I relax a little at the change in temperature. Thank god it's warmer in here otherwise my tits would've fallen off in this thin strap dress.

I try to peek into the main floor of the building to see who's already in there, trying to spot some of the people I'm scared of seeing. The annoying man in front of me says, "My family likes you, quit worrying."

I glare at him, "I didn't say anything." I hate how well he knows me.

"You don't need to," he says, glancing down at me. Then, he nods at the coat-check guy who steps behind me and I have to let him yank my coat off of me just because Theo decided. Bitch (Theo, not the sweet coat guy). Honestly, I still wanted that coat.

"I don't care about what your family thinks of me," I scoff, hoping it's believable. I give myself a second before looking at his face to see if he thought it was believable. I find myself looking at the curve of his lips. So pretty...

"If you think they don't like you, I'll kick them out," he shrugs, sounding too amused by my genuine fears.  

I fight my smile, "You can't do that."

"Sure I can," he says. "It's my event." 

"Okay, remind me to never throw a party for you because it obviously boosts your ego too much," I say, leaning against the counter. Theo takes the paper the man gives us for our coats. They put my coat on a hanger and I follow their every move because looking at Theo right now would make me too nervous. 

I watch the man take it away, trying to see where he's going in case I need to make a run for it. I wrap my arms around myself trying to rub the goosebumps off. Someone else walks in and the cold breeze from outsides circles me. I look at Theo to say I want to go inside but my mouth shuts closed when I find his eyes trailing over my body.

Oh god, what if I'm not wearing the right dress? I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to read the expression on his unreadable face. When his eyes finally reach mine, I realize that I suddenly have goosebumps for a different reason.

"You weren't descriptive with what to buy," I say, clearing my throat, having to take a step closer to him when another person walks in and decides they want to ignore me. His eyes scan my face, switching between my eyes and mouth and I sigh, "Honestly. A kindergartener could've given me more detail."

He frowns, shaking his head slightly, bending down so I can hear him over the conversations of the other people who have entered, "Stop talking. You look good."

I sigh. Isn't he so charming? "Wow thank you so much for such a detailed compliment," I say, making a face at him. We're still close and my words come out kind of hushed because I don't want the people around us to hear. 

He looks like he wants to smile but he bites the inside of his cheek when his eyes meet mine, sudden seriousness wandering through his face. "You look perfect, Scott." 

That makes me lean back to meet his eyes again and I notice that we're closer than I thought. He meets my eyes, something shifts between us again, and then, like we didn't just have a moment, he goes back to being the way he has been for the majority of the evening. 

He's still taller than me when I'm in my heels but I don't have to tilt my head as much as I normally need to. His cologne and warmth envelop me, making me want to get closer. He smells clean with an apple and spice scent. I swear he gets his cologne personally made because I've never met anyone else who smells the same way he does. I don't want to notice that. Especially with how quickly he's been switching between calling me pretty and trying to act like I'm not here. 

I want to wrap my arms around him when he's this close and bury my face in his neck. I don't because he looks from my eyes to my lips, making me run my tongue along the bottom one consciously, my breathing slows, and then, he steps back, putting his hands in his pockets, looking away from me entirely. This is what I mean, he knows exactly how to draw me in just to leave me frustrated.

I can't spend my whole night settling for almost. I don't want to almost have his attention, almost talk to him, or have it almost feel like he wants me here.

"Let's go," he says, sounding impatient. I catch his eyes run down my body again, landing on where my bare thigh is showing, and his jaw clenches while his lips form a slight frown.

When his eyes meet mine, something I can't read flashes in them and he looks conflicted. The goddamn butterflies in my stomach almost kill me every time his eyes reach me. It's not like he's even doing something worthy enough to make me feel this way. Especially when he's frowning at a dress I feel good in after he just called me pretty. 

I shoot him a glare before I walk ahead of him even though I don't know where we're going. My nervousness is masked by my need to pee and the fact that I need to put lipgloss on. I admire the lobby because the outside looks gorgeous but the inside is even better. The sleek white, black, and gold interior

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