Maybe I could skate over it. Find something else we could talk about. I needed more clarification on the offside rule; that one still baffled me.
Isn’t this the whole point of the book? This is the reason he needs this to work.
‘It’s just-‘ Oliver lifted his brow, waiting.Argh. I could do this. Deciding to bite the bullet, I blurted it out in one go. ‘WekindaneedtotalkaboutAshley.’
Oliver paused, his coffee halfway to his lips. He’d been staring at me so intently, but the moment I’d uttered his ex's name, his whole body stiffened, eyes darting down to his lap.
He tapped the rim of his mug. ‘Ah, hence the nose scrunch.’
Surprisingly, his lips rose at the corners. He took another sip of coffee, resting the mug casually on his lap in a way that made me want to crawl towards him and beg him to?—
ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT!
The look I had on my face was one Oliver misread as anxiety because he sighed heavily, rubbing his temple with the tip of his finger.
I downed the last of my Red Bull and let the can fall to the floor. Trying not to let my eyes wander over his body, draped effortlessly over my sofa.
‘Look, I’m not an idiot. I know that my previous relationship is the big draw for some people to even pick up this book. I’m just not relishing the idea of reliving it.’
‘It was a bad break-up then.’
He shot me a look that quite clearly said,no shit Sherlock.
Shrugging sheepishly, I closed the lid of my laptop. ‘I know itlookedbad. But from my experience, things are rarely what they seem.’
A strained silence stretched between us.
Oliver broke it with a frustrated exhale. ‘It was bad. I think.’
‘You think?’
‘By the time things werebad’—he used air quotes to emphasise his point—‘I’d been so blindsided that it felt like everything blew up in my face.’ He paused and ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. ‘Everythingdidblow up in my face.’
Knowing that how I handled this conversation could make or break Oliver’s sudden desire to drop his arsehole banter, I continued cautiously.
‘How did you guys meet?’
He lifted his head and stared at Eeyore on the armrest.
‘It was a charity event. The kind of thing where youdonate a shit ton of money, and they offer you champagne and tiny portions of weird-tasting food.’
I smiled.
‘Ashley was working the room,’ His face curled up into a sneer. ‘Like she always does. I spent most of the night in the corner trying to avoid the press when she spotted me and came over. She was beautiful. You’d be a liar if you denied it. We got talking, and I think by the end of the night, she’d convinced me we were the only two people in this odd circus who truly understood each other.’ He scraped a hand down his jaw.
‘We met up a few times after that. Each time, I thought, how could this person get any more perfect for me? I didn’t want anything serious, nor did she, so we fucked and continued our lives. Then she asked if we could be serious. At that point, I was riding a career high; we won most matches, and everything was just… working out. I thought this gorgeous woman was asking me to be serious about her; I had no reason not to. We got along, had a ton in common, and she understood how important football was to me and knew it was my priority. Should have been my first clue. No woman in the world isthatselflessly supportive of a guy’s career.’
‘Or maybe you’ve just met some shitty women.’ I interjected.
Oliver looked up, his eyes dimmed—a far cry from the light-hearted conversation of a few minutes ago.
‘Both.’
I cleared my throat. ‘You were together for a year.’
‘Around that, yeah.’
‘Wh-‘ I started, but the question died in my throat. ‘I guess-‘
