“Never. Ifeellike an idiot. But thanks.”
A few snowflakes fall onto the shoulders of his coat as he shuts the front door.
He’s illuminated by the lanterns on either side of the front door, and when I look down at the snow-covered stone steps, I see a perfect opportunity.
I pull out my phone, open the camera, and snap a picture.
It’s a shot of both of our boots in the snow.
Subtle.
But it very clearly depicts me with another guy, out on a snowy night with each other.
I post it online, because Callum deserves to see that his little prank meant nothing to us.
I hold out my hand. Ollie gives it a glance and then looks back up to meet my eyes.
“Just take my fucking hand,” I tell him.
“It’s not like anyone’s watching us right now.”
“Hand. Now.”
He puts his hand in mine, and as I expected, his fingers are a lot colder than mine. I always run warm, and I tend to be fine with just a hoodie all winter. Ollie needs more warmth.
Our boots crunch lightly in the dusting of snow on the walkway, and I lead him out and onto the street.
Say something.
Anything to get him to stop worrying he’s done something wrong.
“Callum just wanted to get to me,” I explain. “You don’t need to worry. Okay?”
“Sometimes I feel like worrying is my full-time job,” hesays softly, like he’s ashamed. “Niko, is Callum… dangerous?”
Yes.
Very.
I’ve seen his collection of guns and weapons, which even includes a fucking medieval spiked mace he paid for with my money.
Callum always acted like his collection was just a hobby.
He even told me he never intends to use any of the weapons.
But I’m not sure I trust that anymore.
“He can be dangerous, butyouaren’t in danger,” I tell Oliver. “He’s upset that I finally escaped the prison that was his house.”
Oliver turns to look at me, his breath visible in the air. “Did he hurt you, Niko?”
“No. Not once. I wouldn’t have let him.”
He’s silent for a moment, then finally nods. “Okay.”
He expects more out of me, but what the fuck am I supposed to say?
How can I describe what I went through?
