CHAPTER FOUR
The frying pan spattered and crackled on the other side of the kitchen, eggs cooking excitedly within. I was really glad Oliver liked to cook, because all I seemed able to do since lunch with Derrek was sit with my head buried in my arms. Oliver gently patted my back as he passed me to tend to breakfast, and I lifted my heavy head.
Talking to Oliver would help. Whenever either of us had boy problems, talking it out with each other always seemed to help, and I still hadn’t told him why I had to bail on lunch so suddenly. Eggs plated and coffee poured, I slumped forward, cupping my large mug with both hands.
“I saw that guy from the bookstore again yesterday,” I said as he sat down across from me, face blank.
“Wow, I didn’t think he’d wanna see you again after you, y’know, forgot his name.” He poured himself a generous glass of orange juice and leaned back. I blinked, confused for a moment before scoffing.
“Ugh, not that guy! The one from the line during your reading. Derrek.” My voice hiccupped when I said his name. I could feel my face flush when Oliver broke into a cheeky grin. He put down his glass and crossed his arms over his trim chest.
“Don’t hate him so much after all, huh?”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling, Olly. He’s so…”
“Attractive?” he finished for me. Oliver still sat with his arms crossed, grin threatening to swallow the softness of his features. “Baaaaangable?” he said, practically singing it as my face grew hotter despite my scowl.
“Very. Very. I missed lunch with you yesterday because of him,” I said, sitting up straighter to take a sip of my coffee. Oliver’s mouth hung open and I nearly did a spit-take. “WE DIDN’T FOOL AROUND,” I screamed. His face seemed to become less tense as he picked up a fork and broke eye contact with me to poke around his plate. “He kind of surprised me at Elevensies.”
“What, like, he followed you there?”
“No. I, uh, kind of found him on Knight and sent a message a few days ago.” I picked up my own fork and stabbed at my egg yolk, letting it burst and spill across my plate. “He was picking up a take-out order and saw me at our regular booth.”
Oliver chewed impatiently, eager to speak through his breakfast. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Aiden Reed.”
We narrowed our eyes at each other across the table.
“Ha ha, best friend, you’re hilarious. I’m just taking your advice and going after a guy who isn’t so boring,” I said, picking up a piece of toast and taking a small bite. “I…I think I like him. Like…I like him like him,” I continued while still trying to chew. Oliver raised an eyebrow and sipped his own coffee.
“That’s great. Cool. You don’t even really know him, though, right?” he mumbled.
I swallowed my toast and let my mouth morph into a thin line. Oliver gripped his mug firmly with one hand, his other arm still crossed over his chest, back straight. It wasn’t the most intimidating thing—Olly was a daydreamer who didn’t really do anything rough—but I could feel the atmosphere in the room take a darker turn.
Before I could open my mouth to say anything, he stood up.
“I’m gonna be late for work, I’ll see you later,” he said quickly.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked, twisting in my chair to face him as he walked toward his bedroom. “You seem…off.” His bedroom door closed without a response. I swore I heard the heavy thud of a coffee mug being slammed down. Maybe it was better to drop it; Oliver was impossible to talk to when he got mad about something.
A loud ping brought my attention back to the breakfast table, where my phone sat displaying a new text. I thumbed my screen and opened the text to find the race details Derrek had said he’d send. I smiled despite the sinking feeling in my stomach, excited to hear from him, but less excited about the race. Oliver rushed past the kitchen toward the front door as I put my phone back down on the table. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“He’s a good guy, Olly. We spent an hour just talking to each other over lunch yesterday. I don’t even remember the last time I talked to a guy for that long and still wanted to hear more about him,” I said in a rush as Oliver reached for the door handle.
His arm fell and he let out an audible sigh.
“Good for you, Aiden.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I said before I could stop myself.
Oliver let his bag fall from his shoulder, the laptop inside thudding against the floor. He took a few steps toward me, pointing a finger at my chest as he advanced.
“Maybe I’m finally getting tired of hearing about all these boys you can’t keep around! Maybe I’m tired of trying to find ways to agree with you when you’re the reason they don’t wanna stay,” he shouted.
My hands balled into fists at my sides and I gritted my teeth, my chest tight. Even as Oliver spoke, I could see his eyes widen at his own words, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as his body shook, his breathing still heavy.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know I was so hard to love. Thanks.”
“I—you’re not—fuck, that’s—I didn’t mean that,” he stuttered, still shaking.
“Sure you did,” I said, picking up my phone to leave the room. “You’ve never said a thing to me that you didn’t mean.” He didn’t move from where he stood by the door. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him wipe at his face with a sleeve.
“Just…just be careful.”
Oliver picked up his bag and was out the door faster than I had ever seen him move in our entire friendship. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I slumped back into a chair and loosed a deep, heavy breath, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Uuuggghhhh,” I garbled, picking up my phone and marching toward my bedroom.
Oliver wasn’t wrong. It was stupid to run off for a lunch date with someone who had insulted me the first time we met. Maybe I was rebounding from a really bad dry spell and wasn’t thinking clearly.
Still, that didn’t change how different it felt getting to know Derrek. The fact that I didn’t know a lot about him but already wanted him so badly sent a shock through my system.
What if I found out something I didn’t like?
What if he found out something he didn’t like?
I bit my lip as I crawled back into my bed, burying myself in the comfort of warm blankets and a lazy Saturday morning. As I lay in semi-darkness rereading Derrek’s message about the race, I felt a tug and instinctively maneuvered a hand to rub the scar that fit so neatly in the small of my back. Shaking the frown from my face, I rolled onto my side and typed a quick response.
Aiden: Will I get to see you at all after the race?
A minute had barely passed before I got a response.
Derrek: You better, I wanna know what you think!
I dropped my phone and buried my face into a pillow, smiling like a teenager over his first crush. Almost everything about my butterflies for Derrek confused me. He was rough. He was sharp. He was a stranger and a comfort all at once. On our lunch date I saw how soft he could be, how much power he could put into a kiss. It all just made me want him more, made me want to get to know the whole of him.
Oliver was overreacting.
Derrek wasn’t some sketchy guy looking for a hookup. If that’s all he wanted, he’d have tried to do more than just kiss me while we were alone—and I wasn’t looking for someone to just bang and bail. Derrek felt the same spark between us that I could feel getting bigger the more I thought about him. He wanted to see what could happen between us, too, and we both wanted it to be something special.
At least, I knew that’s what I wanted.
I picked up my phone and slouched out of bed to grab a towel from my closet and put on my favorite Plastic Stars EP on my way to the bathroom. A cold shower to clear my mind felt like exactly what I needed. Derrek’s race was coming up, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from going to see him again.
Especially not myself.