Oliver actually has no clue that I’m planning to show up to help with the winter formal setup.
It’s now been a full week since we went official.
And it’s unraveling me, bit by bit.
Every day he refuses to go grab lunch or dinner with me at the Kettle when I ask. He claims he’s busy with school and some volunteering he’s been doing with Wes and Roman for the society, but I know for a goddamned fact everyone else is home more than he is now.
My dreams have been driving me crazy. I need to be around real-life Oliver for long enough to get it out of my system.
Sevan lets out an exhale. “I do need to get out of this fucking room. Fine.”
“Beautiful. I’ll come, we can drive over in the Mustang, and I’ll help you in.”
A few minutes later, I’m over at the Double Daggers house, helping Sevan down the stairs. He gets into his wheelchair and I bring him out to the car, getting him into the front seat and folding the chair into the back of the car.
As we make the short drive to the parking lot behind Student Hall, Sevan starts to grill me.
“The pictures have looked good with your guy. How’s that going?”
“It’s fucking awful.”
“Hm? Not all sunshine and roses after your first fake week?”
I grip the steering wheel as I turn into the parking space. “He barely speaks to me, other than to coordinate photos for social media. We need to beseentogether in person to make anything believable, but he’s avoiding me.”
Sevan snorts. “That’s the opposite problem of most of your exes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You end up with obsessive stalkers, yet your current fake boyfriend doesn’t even want to spend time with you?”
“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up, will you?” I say, with only a loving tone in my voice.
“Sorry. It’s just kind of funny.”
“Funny sad. Funny pathetic.”
“Why does it matter? He’s the one who wants the fake boyfriend so badly. Doesn’t really affect you if he’s being cagey.”
I exhale a slow breath, turning the key in the ignition and sliding it out.
“Oliver just… bothers me. He always has. There’s something about him that has always seemed specifically designed to irritate me. Back when we played hockey against each other, I wanted to punch himeverytime I saw his face.”
“Sounds like you were the obsessive one.”
Sevan is grinning at me.
“If you weren’t already injured, I’d hurt you right now, Sevan.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Let’s just get inside.”
I help Sevan onto the chair and we head in.
I push his wheelchair down the long corridor in Student Hall, following the signs that point toward the ballroom.
“I’ve still never been in the main ballroom.”
