Nick Oswald

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“JESUS, NICK, WHY DIDN’T you say something? Why didn’t you tell me or something?”

Nick stared at Olivia's face in disbelief. Was this chick seriously blaming him for the two of them being stuck in the pantry? When she was the one who had just let the door close? It sounded like it, and he felt himself starting to get good and pissed off. Even so, he couldn't help but notice how hot she was. Her being pissed off like she was only made it worse. Her hand was balled up into fists by her side, and she looked like she was going to start stamping her feet any second now. He was acutely aware of every little sound inside of the small space, aware of the fact that, for the moment, the two of them were stuck together. Meanwhile, she was looking at him with fiery eyes and waiting for him to answer her silly questions.

“Are you kidding me, sweetheart?”

“Oh, nice. Sweetheart, huh? Is that what we’re doing here? You’re going to break out the patronizing bullshit now that I’m stuck with you? Sounds about right.”

“Fine. You’re right. My mistake. Sweetheart most definitely isn’t the word to describe you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

"My point was I told you not to let the door close. You can try and say I didn't, but we both know that's bullshit."

“You didn’t tell me the door was going to lock behind me!”

“I’m sorry, just how much time do you think I had to get that out? This isn’t a movie. Time doesn’t slow down for you to get your statement out in real life.”

“I don’t think I need you to tell me about real life. In fact, I think you’re just about the last person on the planet I need to be hearing about that kind of thing from.”

“Look,” Nick said evenly, fighting for calm and to get some control back over the situation, “this doesn’t have to be a big deal, alright?”

“Is that so? Great. Awesome news. How do you figure?”

"It's not like we're stuck here forever, right? We're not in some godforsaken no man's land. Caroline and Abel will come home, and they'll let us out. And in the meantime, we're in a pantry. There's plenty of food and even some booze. Things could be a lot worse."

Olivia looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes and then exhaled in disgust. So much for making the best of things. She looked like she wanted to storm off, something he already knew from personal experience she was very good at, except that there was nowhere for her to go. If anything, the amount of space available to them only seemed to be shrinking, and he was starting to think he might actually be able to feel the motion of her breathing. If he was being honest with himself, which he'd been having some trouble doing lately, he thought he might be able to feel the way she was feeling about him, too. He wasn't big on tucking tail and running away, but if the option had presented itself to him, he thought he might have taken it. Her opinion seemed to be morphing into a physical thing, and it was a thing of oppression. When he glanced down at her, he saw her wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him unflinchingly. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and before he could stop himself began to speak.

“You really don’t like me much, do you?”

“Ha!” she answered with a withering tone, her eyes finally looking away, “is that supposed to be funny? I mean, I’m assuming it is, but you never know. Guys like you.”

“Guys like me?”

“Sure, guys like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that a certain kind of man–”

“The kind of man like me.”

“Yes, the kind of man like you. The kind that interrupts when somebody is answering his question.”

"Okay, then tell me. Tell me why you don't like me. And you were right; it wasn't a joke. I'm really wondering."

“Can I ask you why?”

“Why what?”

"Come on, Nick, try to keep up," she rolled her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. Part of him, the part where his ego lived, wanted to ask her when she thought she might start acting like less of a bitch. She didn't know him well enough to be half as judgmental as she was being. There was another part of him, though, that wanted to hear what she had to say. He didn't have a clue why he cared what she thought about him. He had asked the question as more of a joke than anything else, at least he'd thought that was what he was doing. Just some bullshit comment to pass the time. Now he wanted to know what she thought. He wanted that, and he wanted to make her stop chewing on her lip the way she was doing. It was distracting.

"Okay, Olivia, how about this? I'll try to listen better; you tell me what your problem is. Sound like a deal?"

“I guess so, although if I were placing a bet on the odds of you being able to hold up your end of the bargain it wouldn’t be good.”

“I’ll do my best. Give it a shot. At the very least you’ll finally have the chance to tell me why you think I’m such a prick.”

“True. Okay, fine. Do you really want to know, though? We’re already stuck in the smallest place ever for God knows how long. You think this conversation is going to make that better?”

“Don’t think it’ll make it worse. Just say it, okay? You’re making a pretty big deal, don’t you think?”

“Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you. That, for starters.”

“What do you mean, ‘that?’ I don’t get it.”

"That attitude. You've got this attitude that you know more than everyone around you, and it's maddening. You're so cocky. You act like your God's gift to women or something. You act like you're the only rich white guy around with a fast car and a dick."

“Jesus, Olivia.”

“You asked,” she said defiantly, her face going so red it was noticeable even in the low light of the pantry, “so I’m telling you. You act like you’re better than everyone and it doesn’t seem like you care all that much how you affect other people.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

This was the last thing Nick had expected to feel. Guilty. He heard what Olivia was saying, really heard it, and it made him feel like a piece of shit. Women had called him plenty of names and they had made plenty of points of informing him on what a dick he was, but he'd never had anyone explain to him in such blunt terms what was wrong with him. It was humbling, and humble wasn't something he had felt a whole lot of in his life. Before she had given her reasons, Nick had been well on the way to pissed. Olivia had already been there. Now, it felt like some of that anger was gone. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to replace it with. Olivia wouldn't look at him anymore, and somehow that made things worse. It made him feel insecure like a little kid.

“I’m sorry.” He was mumbling, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry? What did you say?”

“Come on, Olivia. You heard me, right? There’s not much of anywhere for the words to go.”

“No, honest to God. You’re like, whispering or something.”

“I said I’m sorry, okay?”

“Um, okay. Sorry for what, exactly?”

“For what you’re telling me. I’m sorry if I’ve been as big of a prick as you’re making me out to be.”

"You don't have to apologize. You asked, I told you."

“I know I don’t have to apologize. I’m apologizing anyway. I’m sorry about the other day, too.”

“We don’t need to go there.”

"I do, actually. I shouldn't have teased you that way when you showed up at my building. I'm not sure why you were there exactly, but I get the impression you were just trying to say thank you. I was being an asshole. I'm not really as bad of a guy as you think I am, or at least I don't think I am."

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully, a little bit of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

“I can prove it to you. Seriously. It doesn’t look like we’re going to vanish from each other’s lives anytime soon, you know?”

“Yeah, well. Thanks. It’s not that big of a deal. I shouldn’t have made it into a thing. I was just tired, okay? I was just–”

Nick cut her off mid-sentence by cupping one of his hands over her mouth. She let out an indignant squeal, and he made a point of tightening his grip. Her eyes were wide and accusing over his hand, and he could see that she was thinking about her next move. He could feel her breath, hot and damp, against the palm of his hand and the skin there began to tickle faintly.

“Calm down,” he said in a low, almost inaudible whisper, “I’m not being weird. I think they’re home.”

She started to talk again, and he knew what she was going to say. It was the same thing he would have asked if their roles had been reversed. If Caroline and Abel were home, why the hell would they be silent? They weren't playing a game. This wasn't some kind of adult version of seven minutes in heaven.

“What–?”

“Shh! Just hold on.”

Thankfully, shockingly, Olivia was silent for a second and it was long enough for both of them to get a really good listen to what Nick had already been pretty sure he'd heard. Caroline and Abel had come home, that was for sure. They had blown through the front door with a crashing sound and Nick would have been surprised if they had remembered to close their front door. Even from behind the closed door of their temporary prison he could hear them panting. He could hear the sound of zippers undone and clothing being removed. He glanced at Olivia and saw that she was looking at the door fixedly. Her blush had returned, and she seemed to have almost forgotten that he was there. At the same time, she had moved unconsciously closer to him. He could smell the sweetness of her skin, of her breath. Every move she made, even though she never actually touched him, made his skin ache anyway. He couldn't tell if he was aching because she was too close or if it was because she wasn't close enough. When she finally did touch him, her body pressing against him in an action, he seriously doubted she was aware of it. Now her breath was hot against his neck and he could hardly breathe. He was sure that if he took a breath, she would realize what she was doing and she would move. He didn't want her to move. He wanted her to stay right where she was, even if it was a kind of sexual torture.

And just what the fuck was going on here? This was Olivia Young he was dealing with. This wasn't some hot, easy number he had brought home with him to easily get rid of when he was through. This was Olivia. He had always thought she was a stuck-up prude and she had made it very clear what she thought of him. So then why the hell was he so turned on? Maybe it was the sound of his friends getting it on in the other room. Things with Caroline and Abel had quickly progressed from the beginning heavy petting stages, and the sounds he and Olivia were unwilling parties to now were unmistakable. They were having sex, and it was very enthusiastic sex at that. Listening to that should have been awkward, involving two people he was friends with and all, and maybe it would be later. It likely would be later. For the time being, though, it was killing him. The close proximity of sex coupled with the feeling of Olivia's soft, pliable body next to him was intoxicating. Everything about her was tempting. He imagined he could feel the silky smooth of her skin. The scent of her, her hair, her body, filled him up the way he wanted to do to her. His whole body was trembling, but it was his fingers that trembled the most. He wanted to touch her. It felt like touching her was the only natural thing to do, like it was the only right thing to do. Then there was the unmistakable sound of climax as both Caroline and Abel cried out and things outside of their cramped four walls calmed down considerably. Nick heard the sound of Abel's low, gentle voice but couldn't make out any words. Caroline's giggle, almost giddy, made it so that he didn't have to. They were happy. That's what those sounds were. They were happy together, and he was hearing it in a more honest way than most strangers ever got the privilege to when it came to the private life of another couple.

“How long are we going to do this?”

The sound of Olivia's voice startled him, almost scared him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been listening to the sound of Caroline and Abel's post-coital interaction. He had no way of figuring that out. The small space was like a makeshift deprivation chamber, and it made all of his senses stronger and more confused all at the same time. Olivia's voice brought him back down to earth. He wasn't sure he wanted to go.

"We can't just live in here, can we? We need them to let us out. It's going to be beyond embarrassing at this point, but we need them to let us out."

Nick nodded. He didn't want to be let out. It was psychotic to want to stay in a laundry room with a woman who didn't like him all that much, but that was how he felt. When he got out of this tiny space, things would go back to normal, and he wouldn't have the scent of her clean, floral hair filling his head. Knowing this, hating it for reasons he couldn't understand, he cleared his throat.

“Um, hey! Hey, guys, sorry to cut things short, but we could use a little bit of help in here!”