35
FALLON
After a hug that felt like it went on forever, and at the same time didn’t feel long enough, Oliver relinquished his hold of me. He went to grab my bag and took me by the hand once more. I followed behind him as he took me down a softly illuminated hallway.
My eyes danced over the rooms we passed. Everything was black and white. Not a single splash of colour on the walls or floor. He had several oddly shaped statues sitting on the bookcase. I could hear Rosie’s voice in my head screaming at the blatant misuse of the furniture. Unlike me, she had several bookcases in her flat, all stuffed to the brim of her favourite novels.
Oliver stopped short before entering his bedroom fully to reach around and flick on a light switch and turned the dimmer right down, so only a faint glow lit up the room. ‘We can leave this on for the night,’ he said when he saw my confused expression.
‘You don’t need to-‘ I started to object, but Oliver shook his head and tugged me into the room.
‘It’s staying on,’ he said firmly.
The only show of personality in the house was Oliver’s bedroom and even that was sparse at best. The walls were painted white, however, clothes were strewn on the armchair in the corner and bottles of protein drinks cluttered up his bedside table. A giant oversized bed was the crowning glory of the room, the navy duvet was rumpled like he never bothered to make it.
Depositing my bag at the end of the bed, he let go of his grip on my hand. I ignored the fluttering in my chest at the loss of contact.
‘Oliver, what are you doing?’ I asked when he started stripping down to his boxers. Goddamn the guy was built. All the moisture evaporated from my mouth at the sight of his chest. Not an ounce of body fat on him.
‘Getting into bed.’ He made a point of pulling back the duvet and slipping into bed, propping himself up against the padded headrest—one arm bent, resting behind his head.
I stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. ‘What amIdoing?’
‘Standing there asking obvious questions.’
‘Oliver,’ I groaned.
‘Come on.’ He patted the space beside him.
I chewed my bottom lip. ‘You don’t have a spare room?’
‘No, I do.’
‘I, uh, can sleep in there.’
He leaned forward. ‘If you’re sleeping in there then so am I. However this room has a much better TV, so my preference is here. But if you insist.’ He lifted the duvet from his body like he was about to get out of bed. Looking up at me he seemed to read the desperation on my face and took pity on me.
He sighed, eyes casting to the floor, not looking at me as he spoke. ‘Don’t ask me to let you go. Not tonight. Not right now.’
The truth was I didn’twantto sleep anywhere but right beside him. I felt safe with him. And selfishly, I wasn’t ready to let that go.
‘I need to get changed,’ I said softly. Whether it was my silent agreement to sleep in the same bed as him, or simply the fact that I wasn’t arguing with him anymore, Oliver lifted his head and smiled. ‘The bathroom is just in there.’ He pointed a finger to the opposite side of the room.
I rummaged through my bag. My pulse sped up when I kept searching and didn’t find what I was looking for. A frustrated breath left me. In the rush to leave my flat and engulfed in my panic I hadn’t paid attention to what Oliver had packed in my bag. I didn’t have the energy to be bothered that he had clearly gone through my underwear drawer and pulled out several garments. None of those help me right now. Never before in my life had I wanted my Winnie the Pooh pyjamas more than I did right now.
‘Something wrong, Pooh?’ Oliver sat up in bed.
I straightened. ‘I don’t have any pyjamas.’
‘Ah,’
‘I did notice that you managed to pack my sluttiest underwear, however.’
He climbed out of bed, placing a hand over his chest, ‘You accusing me of something?’
Don’t ogle his chest.Mentally high-fiving myself when I managed to keep my eyes locked onto his blue eyes shining in the low light, I shrugged. ‘No, just making an observation.’
He went to a chest of drawers, pulling open the top one, he grabbed a t-shirt and handed it to me.
